Luke 10:13-17: in context

As he sends his messengers out, Jesus turns and pronounces woes on the towns that had seen the most of him and changed the least. Chorazin and Bethsaida had watched him do wonders up close, day after day, and had gone on unmoved. If those same works had been done in Tyre and Sidon, he says, pagan cities with a reputation for wickedness, they would have repented long ago in sackcloth and ashes. It will be more bearable for Tyre and Sidon at the judgment than for you. And Capernaum, his own base of operations, lifted to heaven with privilege, will be brought down to the depths.

The logic is sobering. The problem in these towns was not too little light but too much of it, taken for granted. They had grown so used to grace walking their streets that they stopped responding to it, while outsiders who never saw a fraction of it would have fallen to their knees. Familiarity had dulled them, and Jesus counts that dullness as more culpable, not less; the more you have been shown, the more is asked. When the seventy come back thrilled that even the demons obey them, he will gently redirect their joy, too, away from the excitement of what they can do and toward the quieter fact that their names are written in heaven. The danger in the story is not ignorance. It is being so near to grace that you no longer notice it.

The towns that saw the most of Jesus took him most for granted, and were held most accountable. What grace am I so used to that it no longer moves me, and would move a stranger to tears?