It has been two weeks since my last post, “Be Still or Prep?” I was true to my word, waiting and listening. The more that I saw people rushing frantically, worried about their situation, the more my answer was revealed. The familiar call to action never came. Instead, a sense of peace settled over me.
It was as if God was saying, “I got this. Relax.” So I determined that this season would not be about me. As the whole world seemed to catch on fire, my heart went out to those who are least able to defend themselves from the disease and chaos.
Dark forces retaliated quickly, unwilling to release their hold on my attention.
I made a phone call to a woman that is a friend to Kim and me. She is over seventy, on dialysis, and lives alone. She is the most vulnerable demographic for COVID-19. When she answered her phone, I asked her if there was anything I could help her with. Her answer hit at the heart of whether or not I was willing to have faith in God to provide for me.
She said, “I’m doing pretty well, but I sure do need some toilet paper.”
There was no toilet paper in any store in the state. All I could do was give her a significant portion of what we had. Trusting God with my toilet paper was never a thought that had crossed my mind, but confronted me now.
God asked me, “Do you trust me to provide?”
Along with most of the city, I am now working from home. I miss my friends at work and the energy and excitement we share. My nice office has been replaced by a roughly converted extra space at the house. I am isolated and the chair makes my butt hurt.
And He asked, “Am I enough?”
Shortly after, a criminal gained access to Kim’s name, phone number, social security number, bank user name, and bank password. Suddenly, I was unable to fall back on my faith in my finances. We responded quickly and shut everything down, but it left us without checks, debit cards, or credit cards. For more than a week, we had money, but no access.
God asked, “Do you trust me more than your bank accounts?”
Two days later, we awoke to a text message from James. He was a little more than an hour away in Waxahachie, TX at the Emergency Room. He had severe abdominal and lower back pain accompanied by blood in his urine. We raced to get ready and drive to the hospital. As we pulled into the hospital parking lot, he texted us again to advise that he had his first kidney stone.
Almost before we could work through James’s situation, Erin called crying because she felt so sick. Two hours later, she was at RapidMed being treated for an upper respiratory infection. She was placed under strict quarantine. With compromised lung function, she was suddenly a high-risk candidate if she became infected with COVID-19.
“Do you trust me with your health and family?”
The next day, Kim’s boss called to tell her that her last day of employment would be the end of the week.
“Do you trust me?”
Almost to my own surprise, I do trust Him. Not just in that way you say out loud hoping it will be true, but I am genuinely at peace. He’s got this. Come what may, I would rather have God than my stuff, my money, my health, or my income. I am thankful that he took the time to let me see that.
My thoughts are now turning to my community. Friends are losing their jobs quickly. This past week saw the highest number of jobless claims in U.S. history. It is hard to fathom 3,300,000 Americans filing an initial claim in a single week when previous disasters saw one-fifth of that. The pending economic challenges are real, and they are going to be with us for a while.
No stimulus package alone will meet the needs in my community. God is giving us a chance to stand together, helping each other. A time that has been marked by divisiveness can become a season of unity as we realize that our spiritual gifts and material blessings were meant to be shared. I need to give to and receive from my neighbors.
In January, I posted that I would not make a budget, and I haven’t (click here to read) Without a clear calling, I have waited for God to speak life into my year. He has spoken now. The call for social distancing is an equal call for hearts to come together. I have a chance. We all have a chance.
For the first time in months, I sat down and started the familiar exercises, running spreadsheets, organizing my spending, looking for ways to set aside money in pursuit of my dream. I want to love my neighbor by using what I have been given to meet their needs.
I have chosen to partner with the Salvation Army. Their battle is for the soul, providing relief without discrimination. My friends serve there and I am connected to their ministry.
When they serve lunch to the community with people standing six feet apart in lines that extend around the block, I will stand by their side spiritually when I cannot physically. My savior says that the actions for the most vulnerable were actually done for him, I will race to meet His need.
I asked for 2020 to have a purpose. I have received my answer. It is time to make a difference.
God, please guard my heart. Continue to ask me, “Do you trust me?” Strengthen me when I am weak, and may the light of your love shine brightly in my path.
The past few days have been crazy. COVID-19, the Coronavirus, has taken over the country. Current confirmed cases stand at 2,345, or .0007% of us, with an apparent exponential growth curve.
There is no real way to know what havoc the disease will wreak, but the early response from the healthy folks has been chaotic. Toilet paper disappeared first and everything from dry foods to bottled water is in short supply. The government has all but shut our borders down, and companies everywhere sending their employees out of the office to work from home.
How should I respond? Prep or be still?
Joseph was the ultimate prepper. God appointed him to prepare for an upcoming drought of disastrous proportions. As God’s spirit rested on him, Joseph immediately imposed a 20% tax on all agriculture (Gen 41:34-38), then as the crisis continued, he assumed government control of all the money, livestock, and land in the entire country before imposing a mandatory relocation of all people from their homes into the cities (Gen 47:14-21).
It is hard to imagine a response like that, but it was God’s will for Joseph to take quick, decisive action to prepare.
On the other hand, Elijah did absolutely nothing in response to the same situation. When God withheld all rain and dew for three and a half years, Elijah was directed to live by a stream and await birds to bring each meal to him (1 Kings 17:1-4). When the stream eventually ran dry, he moved in with a widow who had nothing to eat but a handful of flour and a bit of oil. God provided only what was needed for him and her household.
Elijah embodied the psalm, “Be still and know that I am God.” (Psa 46:10)
No drought is facing us today, but according to models run by the Center for Disease Control, this plague could claim the lives of as many as one million people in this country over the coming year. With grocery shelves emptying and panic setting in, should I be still or prep?
I’m not doing either.
I’m going to follow the common theme between Joseph and Elijah. Both were able to respond with clarity because they each listened carefully. Although God’s instruction was radically different in the two situations, their obedience to the message was the same.
Before I do anything, I will wait and listen.
He has told me that he will provide for me (Phil 4:19). He has promised that if I call him then he will answer (Jer 33:3). In this time, he is testing whether or not his voice is the most important thing to me. If I place it above the certainty of a full pantry or even my own health, my reward will come.
I have already been blessed. I am reminded that I am part of a community of hope carriers. Amidst speculation of doom, we speak of the one who is in control. While the whole world goes crazy, we pray for peace.
As a tiny virus separates us, may a big God bring us together.
A few days ago I had breakfast with a few friends. After we finished eating, we stuck around the table for a bit continuing the small talk that is the real reason for such gatherings. Out of nowhere, one of the guys made a stray comment to the effect of “You know what it’s like to get fired?”
It got quiet fast. There is an unspoken guy code that prohibits exposing weakness in a group setting. I don’t know what thoughts crossed my friends’ minds, but I was surprised and instinctively tried to disappear into the background.
I watched each response around the table and saw a reflection of my defense mechanisms. One guy sat quietly as if he hadn’t heard the question. Another nodded and sat tight-lipped. The third said that he had lost his job once, but immediately told a story about how it was actually a victory. Four guys and all seemed uneasy as if a previous defeat meant they were somehow compromised.
The topic changed as quickly as someone saw the first chance and we resumed our innocent pleasantries. It wasn’t until later that I had a chance to reflect on that awkward moment.
In a safe space, why had I worried that people find out I have failed? The unfortunate reality slowly sank in. If people find out that I was weak then, they may see me as weak now. Memories of my early failures are clear in my mind but have been kept hidden from the world, until now. It is time for me to be honest with myself and everybody else.
When I was nineteen and a sophomore in college, the fall semester was really hard for me. I had signed up for a series of difficult courses and been assigned to some notoriously hard-grading professors. My personal life was a mess and made it hard to focus. Throughout the semester, I just couldn’t get it together. When I first saw my grades, the 1.9 GPA hit me like a punch in the stomach.
It took a couple of days to work up the courage to tell my parents. Eventually, I handed the printout of my grades to my dad. He quietly and thoroughly read through every line on the page. I wanted to shrink and vanish, scared that he would look up from the paper and see an ungrateful child who was squandering opportunities and disrespecting what he had been given. On some level, that is what I felt I deserved.
My poor results placed me on academic review and required me to get my counselor’s signature to sign up for classes. At our meeting, Dr. Pitts looked at my grades and sighed. He told me that he did not believe I would make it as an engineer. He begrudgingly signed my class sheet and handed it back to me. Without a word, he turned back around to resume his day and left me to see myself out. I walked out of his office angry at his lack of compassion, but afraid that he was right.
For two and a half more years, I stayed in engineering and did my best. Throughout my senior year, I camped out at the Career Center, trying to convert a degree into a job. Time after time, I didn’t make the cut. When my friends excitedly talked about who was recruiting them, I tried to change the subject before it turned to me. No one would take a chance on me. I felt alone.
With no job prospects, I enrolled in graduate school, moving to South Carolina because I was afraid that another degree from the same university would end up with more rejection. In the next two more years, I worked hard. However, after my last class and final exam were over, my job search was fruitless. I was running out of options and scared of the future.
One year later, I was working in the only job I could find. My boss called me into his office one Friday afternoon and put me on final notice for performance. He told me that we would get back together in three weeks to decide if I would continue to work there or not. From the look in his eyes, he had made up his mind, and I resigned the following Monday.
At twenty-four years old, I was unemployed. Dr. Pitts’s prophecy from six years earlier had been fully realized. I hadn’t made it. I had done the best I could but had failed. Fear gripped me and didn’t let go.
A casual comment over breakfast made me realize that the fear was still alive inside me. If I have avoided facing it all these years, imagine the freedom I sacrificed, worrying a thousand times for no reason. God was always in control. How many times have I subconsciously strayed from his chosen path because I avoided defeats along the way?
Our memories are a minefield of past hurts. Part of growing as a Christian is facing down the ghosts of past giants and ignoring the roar of a toothless lion as we acknowledge that Jesus has already defeated each of them. Nothing can be taken from us that doesn’t already belong to him.
God created me as I am and loves me unconditionally. Perceived defeats have nothing to do with my value. But, I underestimated the resilience of self-doubt.
It is comforting to say “In my weakness, he is made strong.” It is harder to admit when I am afraid to trust him, but I am trying. I pray that God will continue to shine his light into the darkest parts of my soul, burning away the lies hiding there. For my part, I’ll keep laying my secrets in the front yard, forcing me to deal with them.
Maybe Dr. Pitts was right and I won’t make it as an engineer. After all, that was only the first time I got fired. Or maybe he was wrong. Either way, that isn’t my identity. I am a beloved son.
