I am so tired of Facebook that I don’t ever want to see it again for 6 hours a day. There is nothing worth watching on Netflix now that I have seen it all. I’ve quit asking Kim “Did I ever tell you about the time…” because I’ve finally had the chance to share every detail of my entire life. I’m waiting for Erin to block my incoming calls because I beg her not to hang up yet. The dog has started to run excitedly to the door when I leave the house because he needs his “me time”.
Kim lost her job. James’s job was deemed non-essential. Erin is working restricted hours because sheltering in place doesn’t mean shopping for your next big project at Lowe’s. My company cut everyone’s pay by 20%.
Income is down, but bills are up in The Days of Quarantine, we got several thousand dollars of invoices for James’s emergency room visit (click here for that story). My lawnmower died. My glasses broke. I keep buying things on Amazon to replace the broken stuff that constantly pops up at the house.
It’s tough out there.
Even as I hear myself singing the blues, I realize how totally ridiculous it sounds. There are people out there who have serious problems, and I am not one of them.
I am fifty-one years old and have had a decades-long, successful career. Not only has that allowed me to put money in the bank, but my kids are now grown and flown. Kim and I talk about how to change our budget while we sit in a spacious living room. To combat loneliness, I set up video conferences with my family across the country on a laptop with high-speed internet.
So many people out there are really struggling while I am inconvenienced.
Families are confined to tight living quarters for weeks on end. Parents return home from exhausting shifts on their feet to attempt to homeschool their children. People stand in long lines at food banks discussing unemployment sites that are unresponsive, relief checks that won’t cover the rent, and fees charged because you don’t have money. Loving people have opened their homes to aging parents then had to walk away from their jobs to keep them safe. Debt becomes a battle that will last for years while dreams of buying a starter home fly out of reach in an instant.
Health care workers expose themselves to peril in order to save people they have never met. Police break up fights at free community dinners, unable to know the dark forces they defy. Our treasured elders await their fate in isolation, living in care facilities where the virus spreads like wildfire, never knowing if they will see their loved ones again.
It is tough out there, and the inequality is unfathomable.
My first days were focused on myself, finding my own peace in the storm. It is time to rise and act. My own words from two years ago ring in my ears, strengthening me to join the fight.
God calls me his beloved son. He proclaims that I am heir to his kingdom, that everything he has is mine, and that his spirit and power live in me. Through him, I can move the mountains his hands carved, heal sickness where he breathed life, and restore hope to a world he spoke into existence. He offers me his full authority. Yet I hesitate and await his specific instruction at every step. I kneel and ask when it is time to stand and act. I am not able to wield his full power, but neither am I a child with a wooden sword. – “Who Am I?” (click to read)
In times of shadowy darkness, light shatters despair, sickness, and isolation. The torch we lift high now is a beacon of hope to a world that otherwise waits for a flattened curve.
A day will come when we stand before our Savior, reflecting back on the battle we are currently facing. Although our memories of these events may have faded, he will remember them with perfect clarity. Our actions now will ring in our ears on that day.
We will ask “Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink?”
Jesus will remind us the faces of the lives he redeemed, standing in long lines waiting for food. He will thank us for generous donations that allow the Salvation Army to serve a hot meal, or the local food banks to give bags of groceries to families that are struggling to make ends meet.
We will ask “When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you?”
Jesus will tell the story of how we shared links to our online worship with our friends who were seeking hope. He will remind us how we donated the best of our clothes and shoes to our neighbors so that they could focus every dollar on paying their bills.
We will ask “When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’”
Jesus will remind us of each phone call to a lonely person, imprisoned in their homes and the Facetime, Zoom, or WhatsApp that allowed our faces to reflect His own.
He will remind us how we made our stand as a pandemic ravaged the earth, serving his brothers and his sisters. We will be ushered into Paradise with his thanks for what we do now.
Today is the day and this is the time. I will release my focus on my discontent and rise to the chance I have been given. Sixty-five cents serves a hot meal through the Salvation Army. Half of that provides groceries for a meal through North Texas Food Bank (or your local pantry). The blessings that have been showered on me will flow to my neighbors.
I will rise above my awkwardness and reach out to my confined friends. The world may see me fail at a video call but through perseverance, love will shine into rooms I cannot enter.
I will not wait for a phased reopening of America. Today is my Day One.
If you want to donate to the Salvation Army, go to https://www.salvationarmydfw.org/p/locations/lewisville. You can read about the services they provide or click on Get Involved in the top menu bar to guide you on how to donate.
Local food banks abound. Use Google to find ones in your area. Some are open to everyone. Some focus on children. Let your heart be your guide. The need for isolation has caused all of them to cancel fundraising events and they need our help.
Not sure? Start with a conversation with your family.
Questions with Jesus based on Matthew 25 starting in verse 31.
In 1993, I was living in South Carolina when my family in Chattanooga got hammered by a freak snowstorm. Over 20″ fell and paralyzed the streets. The only exit from Mom and Dad’s home was up a long, ice-covered hill, so they (along with my brother, Preston) were stuck. They told terrifying stories about how they survived five straight days in near-total isolation, unable to leave the house.
I used to think that was a long time.
I am now in week #4 of my COVID-19 lockdown. The more optimistic talking heads tell me to expect another 2 weeks. The pessimistic ones just saw their shadows and are predicting 6 more weeks of shelter.
I am blessed to have a job four days per week, which is more than millions of Americans. I hold onto every ritual possible from the good-old-days when I could go into the office. Each morning, I get up, make coffee, read my Bible, have breakfast, shower and tell Kim goodbye before making my 12-second commute to the converted guest room that is now my office. At five o’clock, I walk to the front door, open it then shut it loudly and say “Kim, I’m home!” As far as work is concerned, I am holding onto the illusion that life is continuing as normal.
Non-working hours are another story. Kim and I binge-watched 40 episodes of Parks and Recreation on Netflix before I had to cut back because I started looking forward to them coming over to visit and hated it when they had to leave so soon. During especially slow times each day, I call the kids to ask them the world’s stupidest question, “Whatcha doin’?” Our highlight of the evening is sitting on the front patio hoping someone will walk their dog past our house. For distraction, I’ve started digging out a large stump in the back yard.
By the time this lockdown is over, I may never be the same.
On the flip side of the coin, I don’t know if I want to go back. This disaster has forced me to face realities that were previously easy to ignore. If going back means erasing my footsteps, then count me out.
Although I am gradually settling down and accepting my situation, I have been frustrated during The Great Isolation. I like my life the way I had it and have been agitated that somebody moved my cheese. I want to sit in my favorite booth at Chili’s on Friday nights. Small-group on the small screen is a lousy substitute for the real deal. People who play frisbee on the beach while I cut roots for fun are goobers. I hate wearing face masks that make my glasses steam up. There’s a long list of things that get on my nerves.
I had not previously noticed how frequently I get out of the house to interact with people, but I miss those chances now that they are gone. The office, church, and volunteer workdays are the most obvious, but even chatting with the checkout people at Walmart or my waiter at dinner. I miss the people and wish they were back. The more items the governor and local judges rule out, the more I feel that I have lost control.
I know that God is in control, but I’m not happy with it. I have twisted and squirmed and tried to escape like our dog, Tarzan, when we cut his toenails. No matter how hard I try to relax and be satisfied, I keep wishing for things to change.
One of the most quoted verses in the New Testament is Phillipians 4:13. It is often used in a different context from what Paul was saying, and it is better thought of as The Official Verse of Shelter-In-Place.
“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”
This famous line is normally used to claim victory before meeting a challenge head-on. That is a great application, it’s just not what Paul was talking about when he said it first.
Paul wrote this verse while he was social distancing. He was in the ultimate lockdown – prison. His friends at the church in Phillippi missed him and were worried about him. Instead of a pandemic, a great distance prevented them from seeing him, but the effect was the same. Their high-energy friend who never seemed to stop was suddenly shut down. Out of compassion for a friend suffering from loneliness, they sent him gifts and a message of encouragement.
Paul wrote his thank-you note to the Phillippians for their generosity and their concern for him. But he told them not to worry about him, that he would be all right.
I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” (Phi 4:12)
Paul never wanted to be on lockdown and he didn’t pretend that it was ideal. He missed seeing his friends, going out for great Italian food on a weeknight, and shopping for Birkenstocks at the mall.
Being isolated wasn’t his preference, but he told them not to worry because he was at peace. He was reassuring them “I can do this.” and reminded them that he was never alone because his Savior was with him, comforting and strengthening him even when he was otherwise completely alone.
Thirty years passed between Paul falling on the road to Damascus as a bright light surrounded him and when he woke up in prison and decided to write his friends a letter. Early on, I expect that he was just like me – impatient, frustrated, twisting to get away. But one day at a time, Jesus changed him. Gradually, his heart became content in every situation. As he approached the end of his life he could look up from his shelter-in-place and say “It’s OK. I got this. Jesus is with me.”
Unlike me when I tell people “God is in control, we are doing well.”, I believe that Paul was legitimately content in conditions much worse than mine. I hope to get that mindset too.
I hope the pandemic gives God the chance to soften my heart and teach me to slow down and to be happy with what I am given. One day at a time, I hope to discover Paul’s place of contentment.
Progress is slow, but it looks like I have lots of time.
Why is Palm Sunday relevant? If you Google “What is the significance of Palm Sunday?”, the first hit is one of the most common answers. According to Wikipedia, “It thus marks the beginning of Holy Week, the final week of Lent.”
To me, it is about challenging the expectations we have of Jesus. When Jesus made his triumphant entry into Jerusalem, everyone placed their expectations on him.
Imagine being a Jew at the time. The Roman government saw themselves as guarantors of freedom. No wars. Roads that allowed travel throughout the world. Laws that ensured citizens were treated fairly. But to a Jew, they were the opposite. Romans disregarded their holy law. Their taxes were crushing. If you fell out of line, their response was swift and brutal.
For the Jewish people, it was reminiscent of the oppression of the Egyptians. In that time, Moses was raised up to deliver them from bondage. The Jews throwing palm branches on the road knew the similarities to the man riding in.
Jesus was ordered to be murdered at birth, just like Moses. Both of their very lives stood in defiance of an empire. Moses recorded the law and Jesus unlocked its secrets. Moses called down manna from heaven when people needed food. Jesus miraculously fed thousands who came to hear him. While Moses guided people to the Promised Land, Jesus spoke of bringing the Kingdom of Heaven to earth.
To those lining the road, Jesus was the reincarnation of their greatest prophet.
National pride always ran high on Passover week. The Passover marked the last and greatest of the plagues – the death of each firstborn son that came to every family that dismissed God as irrelevant. It was a reminder that they were a chosen people and no nation was stronger than the God who defended them.
The Passover celebration was centered in Jerusalem. David established his throne in that same city after he conquered the ungodly inhabitants through an impossible victory. His reign was the greatest period in Jewish history. No one could stand against their armies, riches were pouring into the kingdom, and their ruler was a man after God’s own heart.
Jesus rode into town as the next David. He was a direct descendant with the same, royal blood flowing through his veins. Too many generations had passed without a true heir ascending to the throne, and the crowds wanted to crown this son of David, restoring God’s rule to a nation.
While David had been a shepherd in his youth, Jesus evoked comparisons by proclaiming that he was the Good Shepherd. David designed the temple and Jesus restored his vision, sweeping away the corruption that had settled into it. David faced down the giant who mocked them, and Jesus stood up to the Pharisees who condemned them.
Everyone singing “Hosanna! Blessed is the king of Israel!” expected that Jesus was David, come to restore the Holy Land.
Jesus would be an unstoppable leader. He had a legitimate claim to the throne. Crowds followed him, listening to every word he spoke. He could command armies, delivering miraculous victories and even raising any fallen heroes from the dead. The day of the Messiah had come.
Jesus was all of those things, but his ambitions were not. Instead of seeking to know him, the crowds placed their expectations upon him. Their disappointment was imminent as they tried to control their deliverer. In less than a week, their rising star would be crucified and their dreams shattered.
So much has changed over two thousand years, but not the human heart.
My prayers often reflect the thoughts of the people at that Passover. Give us a miracle, deliver me from evil, restore us to greatness. I pray for him to grant my wishes instead of asking him to reveal the Father’s love. If I embrace my vision of who he should be, I will see his death where I should witness my deliverance.
This week, I need to learn from the tale of the people at Passover. Am I placing expectations on my Savior, or listening to what he has to say? Am I asking him to deliver me from my situation, or placing my trust in whatever he brings? Will I accept what he offers, or ask for something better?
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.
