Do Not Fear

Can you remember a few short weeks ago when everything was normal? When we heard rumors about a virus in China but none of it was real or close? When we didn’t think a thing of hugging our friends and hanging out with Grandma at her house, buying the week’s supply of toilet paper or soap? When we came and went as we pleased and did as our little hearts desired every day?

It seems like a different lifetime. It’s amazing to me that life can change so quickly. We thought ourselves safe inside our bubble of society. We’d heard of history’s tales of pandemics, but we didn’t think something like that could touch us. Not in our modern world. We were invincible.

You know, it’s good God corrected our thinking. It wasn’t best for us to have so much trust in our human systems. It’s one thing to say we believe in him and follow him when doing so offers no personal sacrifice. It’s another thing when we are entrusting our lives to him. Suddenly, our faith is real. We realize that without him taking care of us, we are severely at risk.

But no matter how much we believe that God is doing a good thing, a loving thing, to teach us to trust in his ability to look after us, it’s scary. Perhaps more so now than in history, when no one was quite as connected to everyone else in a virtual way. We can see in nearly real-time the tragedy and fear rippling across the entire world. We know the facts - how we are exposed and vulnerable to a virus that seems to have no pattern, no easily discernible course of action. We know the mad scramble to figure it out as advice changes daily and sources tell us opposing views on how we should act or what we should look for. We know we do not have enough resources to help everyone who needs support. We feel the virus there, just out of our sight, lurking. Ready to strike. We feel powerless. 

Don't get me wrong - I’m glad we can connect. I’m glad our pastor can still speak to us every week, multiple times even, and I’m glad our small group can have a Zoom meeting and check up on each other. I’m glad I can text, Marco Polo, and see on Facebook how all my friends are faring. I’m glad that when I scroll through, there are multiple pastors and missionaries and evangelists, near and far, praying and encouraging and speaking God’s Word, perhaps in a newer and more tangible way than ever before. I'm glad we can see first hand how we should pray, how we can help, how our submission to the authorities is helping the cause.

But still, I have one worry. The one thing that keeps me up at night. The one thing that tests my faith more than any other worry I might have at this time. 

I don’t mind being stuck at home. I live for it. My daughter reminded me after this all began that I had been lamenting that big snowstorm we never got where “everything gets canceled.” Little did I know! But as an introvert, I’ve been feeling desperate for time where I don’t have to go out. Where I can sit and stare out my window and think and observe the quiet nuances of nature and weather and the way God made the world. That I have time and margin to think thoughts I can translate into words and stories that give God glory. To have all the time in the world to work to build my new garden out in the field, and help my daughter raise her new chicks. There is plenty to do here at home. And it is work I have so much heart for. In that, I don’t mind this at all. My husband already worked from home, our children have always been homeschooled, so our lives haven’t changed much at all, except for one thing, besides wondering where our next roll of toilet paper is going to come from:

Church.

You know, church is hard. At first, it was kind of relief to be excused from the constant coming and going with all the different activities the six of us can be involved in. At first, I was thankful for the breather. Our church has been through major changes in the past five years. Major. At times, I feel like I’m holding on by a thread as I remember all the things I missed about an established church with a pastor who’d been there for decades and all the traditions I’d grown up with that made me feel safe and secure. At times, I feel like I no longer have a place in the modern church that has formed in place of what I knew and loved. Like the things I was brought up to do in church are no longer relevant or desired.

I know that’s not true. I know God is still God, his Word is still exalted, prayer is still offered. Even in my new modern church. I still have a place, and I know God has and will continue to help me find it. But all this to say – I wasn’t exactly disappointed to have a break.

But now, if I’m going to worry, I worry that Satan will use this pandemic to destroy the church. Flatten it into nothingness. God’s people were made to be together, to sharpen each other. No matter how much time online you spend, it’s not the same as real, in-person relationship. And what if we come out of our dens after months of being apart and we no longer no how to be one body?

I can see the gentle smile of Jesus. His shaking head. His reassuring voice, reminding me I was never in charge of his people. The responsibility for their care does not rest on me, the outcome is not mine alone to bear. I don’t know why I tend to think it is. Maybe growing up a pastor’s daughter in a small rural church did something to my psyche to make me think I was accountable to make it all work. Maybe it’s my extroverted emotion, feeling responsible for everyone’s emotional well-being. Whatever caused this thinking, it’s not right.

God is not worried about his church. God knows he can care for it. God knows he already redeemed it, and set the Holy Spirit loose among his children, and that nothing this world can ever throw at it, no pandemic or lockdown or quarantine or financial crisis can ever hope to break it up. Satan will not win in his feeble attempt to knock out the structure of the Body of Christ. It’s just one of his last desperate attempts before God silences him forever. When we’re standing with the Lion of Judah at our back, nothing in front of us has hope of defeating us.

So take heart, dear brother or sister in Christ, for we have not seen the end of God’s glory. In fact, we’re about to see it in ways we never have before, in powerful messages of his love sent at just the right time. He is trustworthy, he is kind. He will not leave us or forsake us. He can be trusted.

These verses were meant for Israel during their time of exile, but the same God who spoke them through his prophet to his people, speaks the same message today to those who have been grafted in to his family. They are meant for you, Christian. Revel in the love of God through Christ.

“Do not fear, Zion;
                do not let your hands hang limp.
                The Lord your God is with you,
                The Mighty Warrior who saves.
                He will take great delight in you:
                In his love he will no longer rebuke you,
                but will rejoice over you with singing.”

– Zephaniah 3:20