Where are you, God?

Where are you, God? 

How many of us have wondered this in the last week as we have seen the world in chaos around us? As the news continues to stir anxiety and the shops remind us of the panic around us, we can lose sight of the One we trust in. God is here, and he has been reminding our house of that in small ways everyday. 

As we search for stationary to send notes of cheer to others and discover adult coloring books we can use, we hear God say, “I am here.”

As we discover the tennis balls I bought months ago and play tennis in an empty parking lot, we hear God whisper, “I am here.”

As we get a text from a friend after our first big meltdown, we hear God whisper, “I am here.”

As the gardening centers shut down, and we realize we already bought all the seeds we need, we hear God whisper, “I am here.”

As we get a new book of guitar chords for hymns and time to practice each day, we hear God say, “I am here.”

God reminds us in some little way every single day that God is here, with us. Even though life is uncertain…even though the world is chaotic…even though our daily lives have shifted…God is here. 

And even if the virus finds its way into our house…even if someone we love ends up in the hospital…even if the world is not the same after all of this…God is still here. 

God is with us whatever the future holds. Today, I choose to leave tomorrow with its worries in God’s hands. Today I am going to keep my ears  open for the whispers of God. Today I will live not in panic and anxiety, but in the sure hope that God is always with us. He is with us even when we are isolated from the rest of the world. I look to the hills. Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord. 

A Game of Monopoly

It has been a week since I started social distancing. I was sick, so I may have started in earnest before you did. Now I am just about over my cough and sore throat and feeling much better. That means staying home seems more like a prison than a luxury like it did last week. Luckily, after two very rainy days, today is beautiful. There is something about getting outside that makes one feel free. The dogs agree with me on this point. 

As I reflect on the Lent practice of fasting, I am really thinking about the things I have gained more than the things I have given up. Last night, Zeke set up Dog-opoly and we all came around the table happily to play. Zeke LOVES any version of monopoly and almost always wins. It wasn’t long before I owed him over $1000 in one round which meant I was left with less than $75. Ouch. It was looking really grim. So grim, that at one point I attempted to cheat and move forward one extra spot so I wouldn’t have to pay rent…until I realized no one owned that square yet. But then, later in that same round all 4 of my opponents rescued me. That’s right. They all changed the rules so I could live. 

That’s kind of where we are now, right? Out of compassion, those of us with much are changing the rules so that those with the least can live. Those who are the healthiest are staying home so the sickest can live. Those who are the wealthiest are finding ways to break the rules of capitalism to protect the most vulnerable. We are changing the rules of the game. I have felt that compassion in the leadership of the church as we change the rules of church.  I thank God that we have the resources to still connect from afar that weren’t available to those who faced pandemics in the 1918s or during the Black Plague. I am grateful that the God who was with people then is still the God who walks with us today. A God who never leaves us or forsakes us. A God that comforts us, provides for us, and brings joy into our lives. A God that still hears our prayers. I pray that we would all be responsible in limiting our contact with others. I pray that we would show extra care and encouragement to medical staff who have more demands on an already demanding job. 

Today is Lent. 

Today I give up my old ways of playing the game out of compassion for the most vulnerable. 

Today I give up my freedom to do as I please out of compassion for medical staff. 

Today I stay in and stay put that others may live. 

From a Pastor who is Coughing

March 16, 2020

It’s been a crazy weekend. After a lot of news the last several weeks about a new virus, the governor of Indiana and the Indiana United Methodist Church made some strong statements of limiting gatherings and encouraging social distancing. My church, although smaller that the 250 gathering limit, is primarily made of people in the most vulnerable population: 60+ year olds. The leadership wisely decided we should not meet at least this week. 

In the midst of these announcements I was sick. With a virus. And if I hadn’t gone through a box of Kleenexes in a day, I would have thought it was the new virus everyone was concerned about. Instead, I did my best to avoid people last week and hunkered down hard starting last Thursday. I saw my family doctor on Friday. They were cancelling all checkups with 60+ year olds over the phone as I checked in, and they didn’t require me to sign anything which meant I didn’t touch anything in the office. The doctor recommended I self-quarantine. She suspected the flu and gave me a little care bag of samples. She also said those ominous words, “You will probably get worse before you get better.” Great. 

Like every American I know, including a friend with MS, I hold a lot of guilt over “sick days.” I am always trying to push through the cold or rush back before I am actually well. As I have watched members of my congregation struggle with finding that balance, I have definitely longed for the day where sick people were given grace and allowed the full time they needed to get healthy. We are so busy doing things that could go without being done so that we have enough money to survive. It is quite crazy. We are so busy proving we are hard workers and responsible citizens that we put other lives in jeopardy of illness and disease.

And when we are scared, we want to jump to action. Which is super difficult in days like today. I feel really guilty about doing nothing. Yet my husband has told me not do anything. My doctor has told me not do anything. My governor has told me not to do anything.  God is whispering “BE STILL and know that I am God.” And yet, that voice whispering in my head says, “You are only worth the work you do.” 

So today I am letting go of the guilt. I am doing nothing. Lent is supposed to be a season of self-reflection and giving up those things that keep us from knowing God deeper. Today, I fast from feeling guilty. I am trusting God that tomorrow will come without me running. Tomorrow will come without me infecting others. Tomorrow will come even if I do nothing. 

Today’s Lent practice: 

Letting go of my need to be busy

Letting go of my feelings of guilt

Trusting that God will love me even when I do nothing