Finding Rest In Discomfort: Lessons from JFK Airport Terminal 8
Phil 4: 11-12 “I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.”
Often, when traveling internationally, I have to spend the night inside airport terminals. Once I arrive in Delhi, for example, I usually wait around seven hours, but there, they have lounges and restaurants open all night. However, this experience at JFK Terminal 8 was new—the airport turned into a lonely, empty place.
After 31 long hours of travel, including a sea journey from Freetown to Lungi in Sierra Leone, and air travel with layovers in Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso and Istanbul, Turkey, I finally landed at JFK Airport around 10:30 p.m.—only to learn that the airport was closing for the night. My next flight was at 6:00 a.m., but the airport wouldn’t reopen until 4:00 a.m. Like many U.S. airports, the ticketing area at JFK didn’t have chairs, so I prepared to spend the night on the floor, moving around as the night cleaning crew made their rounds.
The challenge of trying to rest on a hard floor while keeping an eye on my three pieces of luggage was uncomfortable, to say the least. Eventually, things quieted down, and I tried to make a makeshift pillow with my backpack. I noticed some travelers who seemed unfazed, able to sleep and even snore amid the bustling airport. As I struggled to find even a few minutes of rest, a thought came to mind.
God reminded me of people I just met in the slums of Freetown. In a place filled with all kinds of noises—loud music, shouting, crying—many are able to sleep deeply, unbothered by their surroundings. Here I was, frustrated by a fellow traveler’s snoring or the sound of a cleaning crew’s music, while others, even in far more chaotic environments, could rest in peace.
This moment took me back 44 years to when I was 16 years old. After a hot Indian summer day and a busy day of work, as a young lad, I would come home, change out of my work clothes, slip into shorts, and prepare my sleeping spot. We didn’t have air conditioning, and we couldn’t use the fan much, as the electric bill would go too high. My parents didn’t have much income, and I contributed a little to help. That was enough to feed all eight of us and cover rent. The fan was a luxury expense. On many occasions, my mother would turn the fan on, only for my father to turn it off once we were asleep. My way of coping was, I would take a Kerala towel, which is more like a cheesecloth, wet it, squeeze it, shake it dry, and spread it on our cement floor to sleep. That was the best cool floor. That simple setup gave me the best rest. Psalm 4:8: “In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety”
Yet here I was, using my jacket to keep warm on the granite floor of Terminal 8 and struggling to find comfort.
Reflecting on these experiences, I realized how much our environment and expectations can shape our ability to find peace in rest.
Maybe it was easier to sleep on that cement floor because it was familiar, comforting in its simplicity. Or maybe I had learned then to embrace the moment, letting go of expectations.
This experience reminded me that rest doesn’t always come from having perfect conditions. Sometimes, it’s about letting go, accepting where we are, and finding peace amid discomfort. And perhaps, in those moments, God whispers a reminder of all we have been given, teaching us to be content and grateful wherever we find ourselves—even on a cold airport floor.
