Notes from a Pandemic
Day 1
“How precious is your unfailing love, O God! All humanity finds shelter in the shadow of your wings.” Psalm 36:7
We’re all living in uncertain times. Regardless of whether we’re personally concerned by the public health aspect of the crisis or by the economic fallout, collectively our hearts are restless. Unsure of what’s coming down the pike. Unsure who to believe … and about what. Looking out the window to see the trees are blooming, the sun is rising, but knowing that it’s anything but business as usual.
Lord, ultimately, our hope is in you. Not our ability to make a living. Not our smart investments. Not the cash we have stuffed underneath our mattress. You are our hope. And there’s nothing like a pandemic to remind me of that fact.
Lord, you love us. You know our names, you know our individual struggles, you know our bank balances and our proclivities. You know whether we’re prone to worry or unrealistic in our optimism. You know how we’re handling this new reality—nothing is hidden from you. Because you see us.
Lord, tomorrow will bring its own unique challenges, so we’re only asking for enough “daily bread” to make it through today. Calm our nerves, guard our minds, keep us positive. Most of all, remind us of your sovereignty, your love, and the fact that you are in charge. Our hearts find rest in you alone.
Jesus, you are the solution to whatever problems arise today.
“Come to me all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens and I will give you rest. … Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart and you will find rest for your souls.” Matthew 11:28-29
DAY 2
“You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in you, all whose thoughts are fixed on you.” Isaiah 26:3
Our eyes are fixed on you. Even as the worries of the day threaten to crowd out hope and dim life’s sparkle. We set our thoughts on you. The one who commands the waves to lay down and who pumps joy into desperate hearts.
Today, we choose to detach our eyes and attention from anything that disrupts our hearts and seeks to elevate itself above you. For you are big and we are small. And preserving things in that order keeps us in perfect peace.
“Why value humility in our approach to God? Because it accurately reflects the truth. Most of what I am — my nationality and mother tongue, my race, my looks and body shape, my intelligence, the century in which I was born, the fact that I am still alive and relatively healthy — I had little or no control over. On a larger scale, I cannot affect the rotation of planet earth, or the orbit that maintains a proper distance from the sun so that we neither freeze nor roast, or the gravitational forces that somehow keep our spinning galaxy in exquisite balance. There is a God and I am not it. Humility does not mean I grovel before God, like the Asian court officials who used to wriggle along the ground like worms in the presence of their emperor. It means, rather, that in the presence of God I gain a glimpse of my true state in the universe, which exposes my smallness at the same time it reveals God’s greatness.”
― Philip Yancey, Prayer
“Lord, you will grant us peace, all we have accomplished is really from you.” Isaiah 26: 12
DAY 3
“Now stand here quietly before the Lord as I remind you of all the great things the Lord has done for you and your ancestors.” I Samuel 12:7
These days, it’s easy to let the news, economic predictions, and other people’s opinions about “how bad this thing is really going to get” dictate my emotions. We were already in a period of transition, feeling stuck in DC, wanting to move, and waiting for some doors to open so we could. Now, like everyone else, we’re holed up in our condo wondering what life’s going to look like in 2 months ... when we’ve had to dip into the stockpiles of brown quinoa Brett thinks we need to survive COVID-19. Also, why are my pantries filled with bland food. A global pandemic seems like the perfect occasion for Top Ramen.
Don’t get me wrong, life’s not joyless. Humor is a constant companion and there are endless examples of how much slower and softer our communities have become. Just last night a friend celebrated her birthday. She organized a virtual get together, requesting that we all bring something beautiful to share with the group. She also asked that we wear formal attire, which meant I had to lay face-first on the bed while Brett tugged up a zipper on the back of a dress that I hadn’t worn since 2010. :(
Anyway, here’s my point: my tendency during shut down isn’t to worry about dying at the hands of Corona (I don't make light of that, I know others worry about it). But, I do find myself grappling with disappointment. Which is why the directive in Samuel to be quiet and remember all the great things the Lord has done for me, seems relevant. Because if I don’t keep God’s providence at the front of my mind, I’m tempted to forget that he’s in charge.
Not by sight; walk by faith.
Lord, help us all to find a new equilibrium in this time. Your plan for me right now is to love you, to trust you, and to follow you. Help me to be content with quinoa, when that day comes.
“Now stand here and see the great thing the Lord is about to do.” I Samuel 12: 16
DAY 4
“He will feed his flock like a shepherd. He will carry the lambs in his arms, holding them close to his heart. He will gently lead the mother sheep with their young.” Isaiah 40:11
Carry. Close to his heart. Gently.
Quarantine Survival 101: Don’t watch a documentary examining the human suffering of The Dust Bowl’s farming community during the Great Depression. Especially one that stretches over SIX hours, retelling one tragic account after another. Young lives cut short by “dust pneumonia” and the financial ruin—and loss of dignity—that claimed a staggering number of strong and capable men. Woof.
As an aside: current alcohol supplies throughout the United States would be insufficient to play a drinking game based on how often the phrases “if it rains” and “maybe next year” are uttered in the film.
There was one particular aspect of this cinematic gut punch that really stood out. And that was that in trying times, we humans tend to suck at processing big things with our tiny brains, so we end up misattributing suffering as punishment from God. And in our pain and frustration we turn away from the very source that can give us strength and hope.
The longer the Dust Bowl’s drought and hardship continued, some God-fearin’ folk of the southern Great Plains took to pointing fingers. Regional newspaper headlines questioned whether farmer greed and “dishonest gain” were to blame for Black dust storms and bottomed-out crop prices. The end is near-they warned. One can find a whole slew of articles exploring the link between folk eschatology and the Dust Bowl … SHOULD ONE BE SHUT UP IN THEIR HOUSE, LOOKING FOR THINGS TO OCCUPY THEIR TIME.
STAY INSIDE, DOOMSDAY PREACHERS, JESUS LOVES ME. THIS I KNOW.
Lord, you are the Kind Shepherd. Sure, you nudge us back on to the right path when we stray, that’s called discipline. I’m a sinner and I need it. Sometimes I feel the weight of the consequences of my sin. And in those times, I look to you, the one who can save me from myself and redirect me to the right path.
As the creator of the human race, you are not shocked by disobedience and shortcomings. Just like my earthly parents weren’t totally caught by surprise when I tried changing the grades on my report card or would sneak out my window on the weekends.
You designed each one of us to be an expression of yourself … and when we hurt, it does not escape you.
“You keep track of all of my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.” Psalm 56:8
DISCLAIMER: I am not suffering during this quarantine. I am an introvert who likes to be inside, avoiding crowds. I have plenty of food. No one I know is ill, and I haven’t made any money in the last 1.25 years and am living off of my husband’s income. Any pain I feel is on behalf of others who are impacted directly by the economic or health implications of COVID-19.
DAY 5
“… I am about to do something new. See, I have already begun. Do you not see it?” Isaiah 43:19
It's week 3 and I don’t know what I’m supposed to be learning during quarantine. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be working on. In fact, I feel like I’ve been sheltered-in-place for the last 1.5 years when I left traditional employment. I was already going a little cuckoo back in 2019, when we recognized it was time to move on from DC … so now I feel like I’m walking up a descending escalator. Expending energy, but remaining in place.
I once heard a story about prison inmates who were tasked with moving a pile of rubble from one area to another. Once they’d completed the task, they were forced to move it back. And then again. Back and forth. The psychological toll compounded quickly, driving the workers to the brink of sanity.
SO GET COMFORTABLE + GRAB SOME POPCORN, YOU’VE GOT A FRONT ROW SEAT TO WATCH ME SPIRAL INTO MADNESS!
Lord, give me vision for these days. You’re always up to something new, what is it? What can I use this time for? How do I adjust my thinking, learning that I don’t always need to be “making progress” … how do I ride this out in a way that honors you? My pants are tight and I can’t continue to medicate with box wine and Triscuits, so help me gain a bigger vision of you. Remind me that simply reducing the risk of transmitting infection (and not dying myself) are good enough goals at the present. Help me not to be so self-absorbed in the middle of a global pandemic.
Also, give me back perspective. All that my country’s public health officials are asking me to do is to be bored. I’m not being forced to move piles of dirt from one place to another. I’ll be fine. But, I definitely need something new to watch on Netflix; I’m about 4 days away from succumbing to Joe Exotic’s sordid tiger tale.
“I the Lord made you, and I will not forget you.” Isaiah 44: 21(b)
DAY 6
“Now go, for I am sending you to Pharaoh. You must lead my people Israel out of Egypt.” Exodus 3:10
This post has taken me over 3 hours to write because I keep stumbling over my words—trying to make them flow, but in doing so, the real points I want to highlight are failing to stick.
So, I am going to try break this down in simple speak because if I don’t, I will miss what I’m supposed to walk away with. (beat it, grammar rules, hello sentences ending in prepositions!)
Sometimes I think we overlook divine whispers that tell us who we are because we’re searching for a bigger, more sophisticated calling. And in failing to pick up on the small clues we encounter, we fail to solve the larger case, and answer the question of what we’re meant to do on this Earth.
Not unlike Moses. When God appears to Moses in a burning bush, telling him that he’s been hand-picked to lead the Israelites out of slavery, Moses is dumbfounded. Probably for a lot of reasons. But also, because he was unable to recognize that his unique coding had been pointing him in this direction … his entire life.
Moses had already been a defender of the helpless, accustomed to stepping in and standing up to bullies. He intervenes when an Egyptian is beating a Hebrew slave; then he’s forced to flee Egypt and settle in Midian; first stop, a water well. And what does he see? Girls, trying to access said water, only to be chased away and harassed by shepherds. What does Moses do? “So, Moses jumped up and rescued the girls … then he drew water for their flocks.” (Ex. 17) Hates injustice? Likes to solve problems? Two great qualifications for a leader—even if the raw materials need some refinement.
I keep muddling my words. The strokes on the keyboard feel like I’m plunging my fingers into jars of almond butter; and in no way do I believe Moses was equipped without Yahweh in his corner.
All I’m trying to say is that God’s on the move. Constantly looking to restore humanity back to himself, and accepting applications for willing apprentices. There are a few tasks that each of us are uniquely suited for, either because of DNA sequencing in the womb, or because of how we’ve evolved along life’s journey.
I want to pay attention.
“Then the Lord asked Moses, ‘Who makes a person’s mouth? Who decides whether people speak or do not speak, hear or do not hear, see or do not see? Is it not I, the Lord? Now go! I will be with you as you speak, and I will instruct you in what to say.’” Exodus 4:11
DAY 9
“… He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire. He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along.” Psalm 40:2
When I woke up this morning, I dumped out the remaining boxed wine I had in the house. Snip, snip with the scissors and the bag drained out into the kitchen sink. It was garbage wine. Hillbilly dirt punch that only deserves to come off the shelves in times of pandemic.
As I read the verse above, I paused to look up the dictionary definition of the word mire. It means a stretch of swampy or boggy land or a “a situation or state of difficulty, distress, or embarrassment from which it is hard to extricate oneself.”
Hard to extricate oneself…. That’s probably similar to how a lot of us have been feeling, no? I can’t point to any one thing that is wrong with ME—just a persistent, glum feeling about the current state of affairs around the globe. A strange sensation that creeps up around my ears when I look outside (we’re on lockdown in Washington, DC) and remind myself that while the sun is shining, the trees are budding, there is something very, very sinister happening in the world. And there isn’t a darn thing I can do about it.
I don’t like this feeling of helplessness, nor the economic consequences that come with unplugging the U.S. economy. Things feel out of my control, like big decisions are being made in some far and distant place. Somewhere else. As though our fates rest in the hands of a virus … named after a beer.
My friend Katie once gifted me a book written by a disabled endurance athlete. In it, he writes about the overhaul he underwent in order to shape himself into someone who could one day reach an Ironman finish line. Here’s what he says:
“The Laboratory is everything around me—my living space, the town I live in, my training regimen, my diet, my coaching, my friends, my time with God—all calibrated to achieve the goal of getting me successfully to the finish line of an Ironman, Ultraman, or other extreme race.
“Anyone can create their own Laboratory. Unfortunately, too many people overlook this important step on their journey to achieving their dreams. It might be because they aren’t ready to be ‘all in,’ and they think that focusing so intensely on what they want will force them to sacrifice in other areas of life (as I did). Or maybe they don’t believe they have the right to take such a drastic step. But I believe each of us, each of you, has the right to create an environment that allows you to become the person God wants you to be. That means choosing who you do and don’t associate with, how you spend your time, and how you arrange your daily routine. In my experience, by doing this, you give yourself the best chance of success. The Laboratory is whatever you need to realize the potential that God has placed in you.” (Jason Lester, Running on Faith, chapter 3)
So there we have it, whether we reach the COVID finish line, undead and with our dignity intact is probably something, over which, we all have some measure of control.
No, quarantine doesn’t need to transform me into an elite athlete, but maybe I don’t need to let it turn me into 2006 Britney either.
Pinky swear I’m going to quit drinking ethanol from a box while questioning why my corduroys split during a quick run to the post office.
“Put your hope in the Lord. Travel steadily along his path.” Psalm 37:34
Another Note from the Pandemic
The good news that Jesus came to deliver was this:
I see you.
I know you. (even the ugly + broken pieces)
I’m on your side.
We’re in this together.
Take my hand, let’s walk life’s journey as one, side by side.
Lord, you are the good news.
“But the Lord was with Joseph in the prison and showed him his faithful love.” Genesis 39:21
Another Note from the Pandemic
GAPS
“All I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely.” I Corinthians 13:12
“…Gaps are good because they leave room for God to fill in the spaces.” Bob Goff, Love Does.
Over the last year, I’ve been thinking a lot about gaps. Specifically, skill gaps and timing gaps.
A skill gap is the gulf between where we are when we begin something new and where we want to be. In creative pursuits, our taste may be decent and we’re capable of recognize what mastery looks like, but we lack the ability to create at the level we admire. At this stage, most give up; it takes tenacity + discipline to voluntarily suck as one’s skill is developing. But, while it’s a frustrating process, it is a gap that we (usually) can close, with time, hustle, and determination.
The second gap is outside our control—it’s one of time and opportunity.
I was talking to my sister the other day, lamenting that sometimes our own DNA drives us to continue working at something long after we should have quit. Sometimes that type of work ethic is a virtue, other times it means we’re hammering at cement walls, mistaking them for doors that just need a little more applied force, one more swing, to bust through.
But, we're not meant to pursue everything that pops into our head + not all walls are meant to be demolished. As my sister pointed out, there are times in our lives when God needs space to reveal the next thing. If we don’t put down the sledgehammer and allow him that gap, it’s harder to discern the direction in which he’s leading.
Which means, on occasion, we need to wave the white flag and be okay in the silence.
In this time of quarantine, it's tempting to fill every inch of the day, to either keep up with the demands on our time, or to stave off boredom and keep occupied.
But, Lord, give us wisdom to step back and create some margin. Only you know whether we’re supposed to mark off a sacred space and wait, or to keep our head down, chipping away at certain pursuits.
Like a mouse making its way through a maze, remind us that some walls need to remain in order to guide us to where we’re supposed to be.
“All I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely.” I Corinthians 13:12
Thursday, April 9, 2020
“Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.” I Corinthians 13:4
Love is patient and kind.
It doesn’t get annoyed because my husband chews loudly. Love doesn’t spend time wondering how much the downstairs neighbors hate us because he drops weights on the hardwood floors or stomps around like a gorilla.
Love is not jealous
It isn’t envious of, or irritated by, the fact that some goal-getters are disciplined + motivated during this lockdown. Meanwhile, I am lethargic + lazy, testing the limits of my stretchiest yoga pants. My paralysis doesn’t stem from a fear that I’m going to die. Instead, my anxiety stems from inconvenience + self-absorption.
Love is not boastful or proud or rude.
It’s hard to have any pride when you haven’t washed your face in 3 days, so I’m good here. WHERE’S THE LEADERBOARD FOR THIS CATEGORY?! Or maybe the points I scored in this column are cancelled out by being rude in comparing my husband to a gorilla?
It does not demand its own way.
He should leave me alone if I want to use the dishwasher instead of hand wash the bowls from which I eat my canned, refried, black beans + mozzarella.
It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged.
PASS.
It does not rejoice about injustice, but rejoices whenever the truth wins out.
I think Jesus agrees with me that irresponsible aircraft corporations (with a track record of putting financial gain above passenger safety) shouldn’t be getting bailout dollars. At least not without getting a proper spanking first.
Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.
Is there a modification for this one during times of pandemic? Like when someone can’t do a full pushup, they get to do a knees-down version? After being cooped up for 4 weeks in a condo, mourning the loss of 14,802 of our fellow countrymen who’ve died from this virus? What’s the realistic expectation here?
“Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.” I Corinthians 13:4
Tough crowd.
April 10, 2020
“If racing against mere men makes you tired, how will you race against horses? Jeremiah 12:5
WOOF.
This morning, I’d like to avoid Jeremiah 12:5. Because I’ve always read it as an exhortation to try a bit harder where you’re at, so you can get to somewhere else. For obvious reasons, this is a wrong-headed message in quarantine, when we’re all going a bit crazy, trying to fight back against a virus that’s erased 16 million jobs and claimed the lives of 16,676 16,697 Americans (this went up while I was typing).
“Do More! Do Better! Grow a Victory Garden and Ration Your Meat and Sugar!” isn’t a helpful message for any of us. Not to mention I slept in my clothes, so I’m not the most trustworthy messenger.
But the verse happens to come from today’s reading plan. And you guys know I’m on my 5th annual trip through the Bible, which means I have life completely figured out. So, rather than read around this verse, I’m attempting to examine it through a COVID-19 lens. And Jesus will forgive me if I’m stretching Jeremiah too far out of context. Besides, granting comfort in times of tumult, that squares with the God I know.
So, with that in mind, here’s a menu of ways I think this verse can add hope to our tanks. You choose what you want/need from the menu. I’ll do the same.
I don’t need to race horses today.
I am free to be myself.
I don’t need to adopt someone else’s goal of doing 100 sit-ups a day.
I don’t need to lose weight.
I don’t need to become Janel 2.0.
I don’t need to eat organic quinoa (yet).
I don’t need to ace the quarantine test; I can still graduate with straight Ds on my report card.
I don’t need to succumb to despair.
I’m allowed to be sad about the 17 thousand dead people I never met.
I don’t need to drink, do drugs, or smoke cigarettes to calm my anxiety.
I don’t need to learn Mandarin.
I don’t need to shop online for instant gratification.
I don’t need to ignore my health.
I don’t need to substitute ice cream for meals.
I don’t need to let my muscles turn to mush.
I don’t need to ignore my hygiene.
I’m allowed to be happy during these times.
I’m allowed to be hopeful.
I’m allowed to have a sense of humor.
I’m allowed to enjoy this time.
I'm allowed to trust God, without understanding everything around me.
I’m allowed to look on the bright side of quarantine.
I’m allowed to master home workouts.
I’m allowed to pursue hobbies.
But, I’m not allowed to pretend that just because I don’t personally feel hardship or loss, that others aren’t entitled to their own feelings of grief.
My own promise: I am working out. I am eating well. I am showering after workout. I am practicing embroidery. I am shaving my arm pits.
April 14, 2020
“…The Lord doesn’t see things the way you see them. People judge by outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” I Samuel 16:7
Most days I pray that God turns me into a robot.
I don’t use those words, but I may as well.
I want to do the right things without any struggle; I want to stop doing bad things without difficulty or sacrifice. And if I’m not careful, that becomes the sum focus on my relationship with Jesus.
Then when I die, I want to be welcomed into heaven with a thundering “well done good and faithful servant,” as I’m paraded down the streets of gold, admiring fans cheering my arrival. All before I’m ushered over to my lot in paradise—a stretch of beach-front property on what looks like the island of Oahu.
I don’t want to be like David. A hand-picked boy king, forced to wait for the throne and required to do scary things and take risks beyond which his life experience seemingly had prepared him. Battling his own shortcomings time and again.
But that’s how his story goes.
His heart finds favor with the Lord; but his moxie seems to be the vehicle by which he’s used for God’s purposes.
Saul’s the opposite. He won’t act unless he’s guaranteed success. He’s in constant paralysis, hiding in caves, riddled with petty jealousies, insecure in his position.
God doesn’t want an army of robots, he wants more people like David. Willing to take chances outside our skillset when nothing on our resumes says we’re qualified to do so. Willing to partner with Him in bigger ways, even if we fail a few times along the journey.
So Lord, help me be less focused on behavior modification and outward improvement. Instead, help me be more focused on being about the business of the Kingdom of Heaven. And acting on ideas beyond my current capabilities.
My own goals will never be any more outlandish than David volunteering to throw rocks at a giant.
“’Don’t be ridiculous!’ Saul replied. ‘There’s no way you can fight this Philistine and possibly win! You’re only a boy, and he’s been a man of war since his youth.’ But David persisted.” I Samuel 17:33-34.
April 21, 2020
shortcutting
“When Pharaoh finally let the people go, God did not lead them along the main road that runs through Philistine territory, even though that was the shortest rout to the Promised Land. God said, ‘If the people are faced with a battle they might change their minds and return to Egypt.’ So God led them in a roundabout way through the wilderness toward the Red Sea.” Exodus 13:17
Direct routes are the preferred, and most logical choice, if the objective is to arrive at a destination in the least amount of time.
But there are times in life when timing is beyond control and less important than what’s gained by the journey. And some days that’s not the news I want to hear.
April 21, 2020
“Two people are better off than one, for they can help each other succeed. If one person falls, the other can reach out and help. But someone who falls alone is in real trouble.” Ecclesiastes 4: 9-10
A focus on human connection and togetherness. That’s the beauty I see blossoming during shutdown. Like a sprout forcing its way through crusty earth, gaining a little more strength each day that this global timeout drags on.
Uber’s recent ad campaign perfectly captured the mixed bag of tragedy and beauty that is quarantine, which you can watch here.
For someone who has a tendency to get lost in projects, become too single-minded (in the name of being “focused” and “driven”), and travel down rabbit holes that lead to isolation, it’s been a good reminder to be less self-absorbed. To remember that I love a group of people; and if I want the intimacy and other benefits that come from close friendships and them loving me in return, then I need to be deliberate about maintaining those connections.
The same goes for accountability. But, I’m so burned out on my social feed showing me the extremes responses to quarantine—drink all day in your sweatpants while gorging on Ben + Jerry’s vs. doing push ups on 2 minute intervals, being annoyingly cheerful, and urging the rest of us to drink our weight in water—that I’ll skip thinking too hard about what this verse says about accountability and what I need to learn from it.
Except to say that a simple, off-handed invite from a friend … to participate in a run during times when I’d normally be sleeping, created enough spark to reignite my passion for running. Somehow knowing that she was clicking off miles, several states away, restored some self-respect that Corona had eroded. Thank you, Katie.
“Two people are better off than one, for they can help each other succeed. If one person falls, the other can reach out and help. But someone who falls alone is in real trouble.” Ecclesiastes 4: 9-10
April 26, 2020
the reduction to little somethings.
“But giving thanks is a sacrifice that truly honors me. If you keep to my path, I will reveal to you the salvation of God.” Psalm 50:23
At this stage, quarantine has kinda stripped down my expectations. Things I previously had taken for granted, I now see in a different light. Fresh fruit, rolls of toilet paper, a reliable postal service to keep my business operational, a spouse with a stable income.
My prayers have become more basic, too. The slowdown has boiled off a lot of superfluous asking and reshaped what I’m asking for. Not unlike a spoiled child, I suppose. One who’s forced to relearn appreciation for a single Christmas gift, after dad loses his job and Disney’s off the table.
With the continual peeling back of plans and gradual settling in of disappointment comes a new conditioning. An acclimation process that brings along its own little treasures. The “I’m grateful for……” game is easier to play. We now have an excuse to call our friends more, see their faces on the screen, bond over the fact that neither of us have washed our hair or changed our clothes in longer than we’d care to admit.
More meaningful connection is forced. Façades are useless: we’re all fatter, poorer, irritated, and booze-soaked. And our eyebrows have likely knitted themselves together by now. Keeping up with the Jonses seems a lot more manageable since Karen’s roots have grown out + she can’t get her hands on Botox. We are all Karens.
All these days under house arrest have leveled the playing field, reducing us all down to a more even state.
Which means, as we play the thanksgiving game we’re allowed to marvel at the little somethings we may not have noticed before. Like, the unending supply of canned chickpeas which no one seems to buy from the grocery store, a large abandoned parking lot that I can run laps around, and the delight of fresh bananas.
And all those little somethings still count toward our thanksgiving total. God hears each one, and it’s a delightful melody.
“I will offer you a sacrifice of thanksgiving and call on the name of the Lord.” Psalm 116:17
May 5, 2020
“This means that anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone: a new life has begun! And this is a gift from God, who brought us back to himself through Christ. … For God was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself, no longer counting people’s sins against them.” II Corinthians 5: 17-19
Lord, I belong to you. I asked you into my heart, tattooing your name on my face, so there’s no turning back. No doubt I’m yours.
And because the ownership question has been answered, you’ve closed the gulf between us. You’ve cinched up any distance that once separated us.
Now I live on your side of the divide. I the sheep, you the Shepherd. Running after you, bounding along, eager to see where we’re traveling to next.
And when I get distracted, or wander from the pack, you pull me in, bringing me back to yourself. Sometimes, I come willingly, other times I need you to pull me from a thicket.
But, let me never forget—no amount of work I do can restore me back to you. As a dumb ball of wool, I can never work my way into becoming the Shepherd.
You direct, I follow.
I bleat, you rescue.
And back on our journey we go.
June 2, 2020
“Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle of heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” Matthew 11:28-29
Lord, our souls are weary. We buckle under the weight of a broken system, but we aren’t sure how to bring about its fix.
It’s all too big for us.
And yet, as your disciples, you call us, again and again, to stand with the oppressed, to use our voice on behalf of the voiceless.
You alone are the answer to a broken and worn-out world.
As we continue to examine our hearts, speak to each of us. Reveal to us the assignment you’re asking us to take on.
May we be a people who goes beyond nodding our heads in agreement that a problem, in fact, exists. Show us what it looks like to become light in the midst of darkness.
There is no superficial fix or comforting platitude to offer.
We don’t know what to do, but our eyes are on you.
Our hearts find rest in you alone.
“But the needy will not be ignored forever; the hopes of the poor will not always be crushed.” Psalm 9:18.
