One year ago, I stood on the edge of a lagoon in Edisto Island, and dreamed of the day we would be coming back. I was there with my wife, who convinced me that we really needed two weeks off, together as a family, to recharge from the stress of ministry, to enjoy time together, and to just relax and enjoy the beach. I was reluctant at first, but over the course of about 10 minutes of listening to the waves gently lap against the muddy banks and watching the fiddler crabs do their little sideways dance as the tide receded, I decided she was right. Two weeks off, at the beach; what a phenomenal idea.
Yesterday, we had to make the decision to cancel our vacation. There are several reasons, but they all revolve around the current global pandemic and the implications of that in our country.
None of us have ever seen anything like this. When I try to compare it to other major events in my lifetime, it’s just. . . . well, different. Pick your major, life-altering event of your lifetime, and it is still not like this. It feels like life has been canceled. There are no sports, no live events, no socialization, no toilet paper. We are left to simply gather in our homes, think wistfully about what the future was supposed to have been, and deal with what we have.
The news, and our news feed, is full of speculation about the legitimacy of the pandemic, the scope of the problem, and the either over or understated response of the culture. Both sides accuse the other side of fear-mongering. In fact, both sides are tapping into fear. There is a good reason for this: we are afraid, and fear sells.
Faith, and the expression of our faith, has always been critical. I shy away from statements like “it’s never been more important that we show the world what we believe.” I guess that may be true, but there has also never been a time when it was not important for us to do that. Times of hardship just make that tangible for us. The reality is we should be seriously demonstrating faith all along; hard times just strip away all the things we thought we could hope in. So, what are some tangible ways we can demonstrate our faith in this time? None of these are easy, but I think each of these can be deeply impactful as the world watches to see us give a reason for our hope.
1. We can show the world how to repent over worldliness – the grim reality is this: the church, and particularly the Western Church, has been anesthetized from the reality of suffering by the comfort that we live in. I can’t point one finger to anyone, because I’m just as guilty of this as you likely are. In fact, we have all taken a great number of creature comforts and somehow consecrated them as holy by calling them “ministries.” Trips and events, worship styles and preferences, and many other things are being brought out into the light and given the opportunity to be seen for what they are. More importantly, we are being given the opportunity to see that we don’t really need any of those things. We need the Bible. We need the Gospel. We need the Holy Spirit. We need each other. Nothing else is actually a necessity. The stripping away of everything else is granting us the opportunity to see this. We can start by simply repenting; by admitting that we were distracted, that the things that we thought were extremely important were in fact not that important.
2. We can show the world how to prioritize the family – I think one of the best things that can result from this is the way that families are literally being forced to spend time with one another. It is incredibly sad that I just wrote that and meant it, but it’s pretty true. We as a culture have completely redefined how a family should function. Now, to be certain, no amount of social quarantining will remove the tech devices from our hands (and our children’s hands), but it does grant us the opportunity to be at home. It clears our schedule of sports and recitals and engagements and activities, and it puts us at home. We have right now a unique opportunity to reconnect with one another in our home, if for no other reason than we have been forced to disconnect from the other activities that normally consume our calendar. We can choose to spend the time really getting to know our spouses, our children, our parents; none of these things are forbidden while practicing safe social distancing.
3. We can show the world how to respond to disappointment and loss – we are all going to lose something because of this. Some (like me) will lose vacations. Some may lose jobs. Some may lose a sense of financial security. Others will lose far worse than any of these things. Hard times, and hard things, almost always involve loss. The difference that Christians ought to have is that we can demonstrate how to rightly navigate these losses with the right mixture of lament and hopefulness. As Christians, we bear the responsibility to teach the world what real, biblical lament looks like. We also show the world what hope is, and what we hope in. When we express our disappointment or heartache while still clinging our real hope – the eternal comfort and presence of Jesus Christ – we show the world that the things of this world are not the reason for our hope.
There are many more ways to give a reason for our hope, but these three are a pretty good starting point. None of these require our church to have programs, or budgets, or even large corporate gatherings. They require us to believe the Gospel, to seek to apply the Gospel, and to look for opportunities to display the Gospel in and to the world around us.
I bet you have had to cancel some things to. Maybe your retirement faces an uncertain future. Perhaps you aren’t really sure if you will have a job when this whole thing subsides. All of these things are certainly challenges and hardships. But they are also opportunities for us to prove to the world that we actually believe what we tell them we believe: that Jesus Christ is enough. Even when our jobs fail. Even when our health is in jeopardy. Even when we don’t know what tomorrow brings. He hasn’t ceased to be sovereign. He is God over all. And He loves His children.
Maybe one day, that vacation will come. But it can’t be my hope. If it is, then my misplaced hope will lead to misplaced priority, which will lead me to false worship pretty quickly. My hope, and yours must be, as the song says, in Jesus’ blood and righteousness.
All other ground (even hopes about the beach) is shifting sand.
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