It's raining today, and rain changes the mood even on the best of days, but when you are stuck in on week 6 of lockdown there is something about the rain that reflects the mood of the nation, of the world. It feels like this week the grief is really setting in, and the news doesn't seem to get any better. There are glimmers of hope. There are moments of joy, but they are interspersed with moments of sadness and bad news. We are getting to the point now where most people know someone personally who has been kicked in the guts as they have lost someone they love or life as they know it has been completely torn apart or the brokenness has just got too much.
The rain today is crying for a very broken and sick world.
In the Bible there are many stories of people who are at this place - where they have suffered great loss, who have had to abandon everything they have always valued, or they have had everything ripped apart and the poetry books in particular are full of the agonising sadness and frustration at life. One verse shared on facebook in the last couple of days was from Psalm 57. Psalm 57 is to the tune of "Do not destroy" which seems kind of appropriate for this time and it was written for the time when David had to run from Saul who wanted to kill him and hide in a cave. When we are threatened from the outside, sometimes all we can do is hide, and today, we're hiding the best we can. It doesn't mean that the threat is going to go away, and there are still people out there who are facing it head on, hiding when their role allows, fighting it for us, all the time, just like, I guess people were fighting David's corner, but it means we will stay safe for a while. And as we hide, we have time to reflect and deal with all the emotions inside. We have time to shout and cry and laugh inappropriately. And that is what this Psalm is all about - a Psalm from a cave. Do not destroy.
Here is the coronavirus version.
Have mercy on us, oh God, have mercy on us
for in you we take refuge, as we shut our doors and look out of the window at the crying skies.
We will take refuge under the shadow of your wings, we will sit in loneliness and grief and mourning, in the safety of your arms until this disaster has passed.
We cry out to you oh God, we know you will save us, you give us hope.
You send songs from heaven, moments of joy, moments of peace and they lift us from the pit,
You rebuke the unseen enemy that threatens to destroy
And you send forth your love and your faithfulness, your promises stand firm.
We are in the midst of an uncertain threat. We are forced to dwell in a land that poses insurmountable risks. A virus that sits on door handles and shopping, which knows no boundaries, but hits the hurting hardest.
Be lifted up, O God, high above all this, may your glory be seen across this earth.
Every time we cross our doorstep, we recognise the risk we face ahead.
We step cautiously in our fear. We wear makeshift masks and wash our sore hands again.
There may be a threat beyond these walls, but it will not defeat us, it will be destroyed.
Our hearts, O God, are focussed on you. We will fill our time with good things. We will listen to songs we love and make music ourselves.
Awake us to new things - new notes - new melodies - awaken our voices and teach us your song, your song will awaken the dawn.
We will praise you, Lord, despite being apart, we will praise you alongside all nations, so far scattered.
We will sing your songs above the chaos around - for your great love reaches as far as we can see. Your faithfulness reaches beyond where we can imagine.
Be lifted up, O God, be lifted up. Let us see your light in the darkness, your glory within the days ahead.
Lord, you know me better than I know myself.
You know when I sit on the sofa and you know when I go for my daily walk.
You know exactly what I am thinking even though you seem far away.
You know when I go out too often and you know when I don't feel like getting up.
You're familiar with all my habits and thinking.
Before I get tongue-twisted on the phone or forget what I was going to say
You, Lord, know what I want to say already (sometimes I need you to tell me).
The knowledge you have of me is vast and wonderful
And I don't think I will ever understand my strange behaviour at the moment as you do.
Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up onto the roof (that's not going out is it?) you are there.
If I hide under the covers (that's definitely not going out) you are there.
If I rise earlier than I would normally do (why can't I sleep?)
If I settle into a rhythm that's alien but works
even there your hand will hold onto me,
Your right hand will help me stay upright.
If I say, "Surely no one will remember me if I hide away
and the joy of being outside will become something to be forgotten"
even if I hide away for six months, you'll still find me
in the isolation I will never be alone, because however dark it gets, you are there.
For you created me, from the inside out. You spent time knitting a pattern that had never been knitted before in my mother's womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
Everything you do is wonderful, and I know that, in my deepest being.
My design was completely revealed to you when I was made in a place no one else could see,
when I was woven together in the dark secret place.
Your eyes saw me before I even looked like me
And all the days were already written down before I even existed.
I'm really interested in what you are thinking God,
Because your thoughts must be infinitely big.
I would try and count them (and I've probably got time now, so say some people) but I know they are too many to count, even when in isolation....
Even if I go to sleep, when I open my eyes you are still there.
If only you God, would destroy this virus.
Away from me, all other people and your germs.
This virus is not of you, but yet for a while it lives and claims to have control over our lives.
I hate this virus, Lord, just as you hate it
Just as you mourn at the suffering of so many.
I have nothing but hatred for it
I count it as my enemy. It makes me so mad.
Search me, God, you know how my heart is.
Test me and know that I am full of worry and fear.
See that I don't take out my frustration on anyone
And lead me in your way, which speaks of a life lived beyond my front door.
About a year ago I wrote a blog called on walking alone reflecting on the challenges of being a single minister, particularly when moving south, far away from family. It’s been my most viewed blog (nearly 2000 views) and I’ve never been sure why. Perhaps it resonates with people. Perhaps someone accidentally keeps pressing refresh. Who knows?
I’ve been thinking about how I ended up writing that as I’ve contemplated the idea of ending up in isolation on my own far away from family. It’s tough being on your own.
As we went through our church lists and identified people with no close support and visited and talked to people who face the same questions of how might we manage if we lock ourselves away I realised that whilst we’re all in this together when you are in a single person household we’re in it together alone. And that’s hard. As I hear people worry about being locked away with family and I hear the plans for entertaining one another I wonder who is going to entertain me? Who is going to be there to pick the pieces up when the bits of life that have always been stable unravel and fall.
And while this blog may seem self-indulgent, it’s a fact of life for many who are not able to reach out to family, friends and neighbours in the run of every day normality never mind in the new every day changes we’re encountering well, everyday.
As I contemplate how life looks where my social distancing becomes more distant I wonder how I’m going to manage when the world closes in.
Perhaps in the small things, the bird building a nest from my driveway or the flowers that will grow, oblivious to the crisis around speaking of the hope that takes us beyond the what ifs of the storm we are facing head on.
Perhaps in the voices from favourite books or from comfort viewing of Gilmore Girls and Friends or the familiar faces of films we’ve watched a thousand times before.The songs that inspire singing and the faces in old photos that grin freely and speak of a life without fear.
Perhaps in the ring of a telephone, the swoosh of an email, the envelope thrust through the door speaking news from elsewhere. The voices from faraway that remind you that together doesn’t have to be alone, instead a miracle of the drawing together of distance to be a little less than far.
In this alone togetherness we listen, we wait, and we ponder and the one that never leaves us whispers here, I am here.
“Don’t panic. I’m with you. There’s no need to fear for I’m your God. I’ll give you strength. I’ll help you. I’ll hold you steady, keep a firm grip on you” Isaiah 41:10 (MSG)
My Bible reading this morning was from Isaiah 26 and one verse in particular was particularly apt for such a time as this:
“Come my people, go home and shut yourselves in. Go into seclusion for a while until the punishing wrath has passed” (Isaiah 26:20)
While Isaiah’s prophecy was for a particular people at a particular time who were in for a hard time and were looking for reasons why, it also gives us a bit of an insight into how we might respond to this current Coronavirus crisis. I wake up in the morning anxious about what’s coming, I worry about how I might lead my church through this and I am so very concerned for my community who thrive on human contact and need one another to get through the simplest stuff in life. To be honest, I’ve been tying myself up in knots a bit.
This verse, it jumped out at me. It’s ok to stop. It’s ok to pause. It’s ok to hide. This virus will pass. You can’t control it, you’re not going to stop it, you’re going to have to ride this storm, it’s coming........ but it will pass. We don’t know what the other side of the storm will look like. It will be a painful journey.... but it will pass. There are better times ahead.
For someone who likes to be in control, these words, whilst they do not take away the wrenching in my gut, they provide hope amongst chaos, light amongst darkness. The dawn is coming and it will arrive. This now - it will pass - deal with it as best you can and then embrace the change the new dawn brings.
This virus is a symptom of our broken, fallen world - the illness - the panic - the non-joined up thinking. The inherent selfishness reflected in a trolley full of loo roll. The way we react needs to be wholly unselfish. How do we care for others who might be more vulnerable than us?
- that’s what the hand washing is about
- that’s what the self isolation on symptoms is about even if we ‘don’t feel that bad’
- that’s what choosing to not stockpile but instead redistribute is about
- that’s what looking out for our neighbours is about (check out the singing in Italy, the opportunities to volunteer in your own community, the ideas for offering coordinated help on the streets that are about)
- that’s what the cancellation of an event we really wanted to go to is all about
- that’s what all the hiding away is about
This virus will, at times of self isolation, and as the next months unfold, leave us nothing to depend on but God. Our faith will be tested, our trust will wain - but the truth is that the only thing that will remain constant is God.
And as this virus orders us - forces us - into a time of stop - in our collective grieving and anxiety, frustration and fear, may we be overwhelmed by that peace that passes all understanding. As we close the doors behind us and only hear human contact in hushed tones beyond the walls, hear the voice that whispers - this will pass, this will pass, there is better to come.
