The continuing crisis that is COVID-19 consumes almost every part of my day. Waking up to headlines. Working from home – the constant reminder of why I’m not at the office. Washing my hands for a long time after receiving a package from California. Paranoid? Probably. But not wanting to be careless.
Natural disasters, while devastating, tend to unite people together. People see the destruction that a community must grapple with and band together with others to support that community. They’ll donate money to those they’ve never met before because they have seen their affliction and are moved to care.
A pandemic does not bring out the same kind of empathy. While the “enemy” in a natural disaster or other tragic event is known, it remains grey and nameless in an ongoing pandemic. The disaster is always on the move. The barista, my next-door neighbor, coworker, or even close friend could be host to this virus.
And with the things we considered ‘given’ – vacations, dinners out, going to the movies – suddenly vanishing, we tend to shrink and latch onto what remains — our investments, our 401K, the masks that would better serve a health worker. Self-preservation becomes the ongoing strategy. Maybe if we were on the other side of this virus, we would judge those who revert to this hermit mentality. But when this is our reality, then our true character is revealed for what it is.
This virus has exposed what my “givens” are. The things I had felt entitled to with no basis. It has made me reflect and consider what is truly necessary versus what I think I need. Seeing dollars reduced to dust unnerves me more than I would like to admit. But what disturbs me even more, is the degree to which the loss of material things acutely saddens me. It reveals to me just how much more I cared about my treasures here on earth than in heaven. C.S. Lewis speaks to this kind of realization in Learning in War-Time, a sermon preached to a group of university students during the second World War. He argues that war does not present a new reality, but rather augments an existing one:
“We see unmistakable the sort of universe in which we have all along been living, and must come to terms with it. If we had foolish un-Christian hopes about human culture, they are now shattered. If we thought we were building up a heaven on earth, if we looked for something that would turn the present world from a place of pilgrimage into a permanent city satisfying the soul of man, we are disillusioned, and not a moment too soon.”
That is not to say that material things don’t matter at all. They do. But I could truly appreciate the earthly much more if I better understood and valued the heavenly. Lewis goes on to encourage these students to continue their studies, even in this season of war.
“…but if we thought that the life of learning, humbly offered to God, was, in its own small way, one of the appointed approaches to the Divine reality and the Divine beauty which we hope to enjoy hereafter, we can think so still.”
For me, this is a season to repent of entitlement. It’s a time to adhere to the precautions given for my protection, yet live without an ultimate fear. And it’s even more of an opportunity to practice graciousness and hospitality that extends God’s love to the city he has called me to. To pray without ceasing to my God who is sovereign over all, and actively care for my brothers, sisters, neighbors, and friends.
What is this time for you?