Responding to COVID and God's Promises from Lamentations 3

Toward the end of a year, I usually take some time to go back and reflect on the highlights, challenges, and lessons of that year and how they inform my approach to the next year. This year has been so full of extremes that at times my body hasn’t known whether to rest or to be full of adrenaline, my soul has been overwhelmed with both deep grief and profound gratitude, and my spirit has seemed deeply anchored and yet also shaken to its core. 

When I came to the US in November, Honduras was still on lockdown and had been since March 15^th. Two back-to-back hurricanes were what finally lifted the lockdown at the end of November, but there are rumblings that it could be reinstated as COVID cases are filling ICUs. Over the summer, I listened to Annie F. Downs’ Enneagram podcasts. Listening to the episode on Sixes—my Enneagram number—, I felt immediately known as the two Sixes she interviewed described how easily they had handled stay-at-home orders and how their real difficulty began when restrictions were lifted. Sixes are known for seeing situations from as many angles as possible, so I fully resonated with how exhausted they felt when faced with the question of what taking precautions and responding to those around them looked like for them. That is how I was feeling before coming to the US. We were still under lockdown, but more and more businesses were opening, more and more people had permission from the government to circulate on any day, and more and more people were eager to just get back to life as normal. I am a researcher by nature, and I don’t tend to make decisions based on my own emotions or on what other people are doing around me. But, I was also swamped with school, and we had been on lockdown since March, and I was tired. So, I found myself in a few situations of going with whatever flow was happening around me rather than taking the time to discern what choice I actually wanted to make. It was the path of least resistance in the moment, but it felt disingenuous every time to the point that I knew I would need to take the time to wrestle with myself, flesh out every angle, and then lay all of those tugs-of-war at God’s feet to receive my own conviction of how to handle 2021 in an ongoing pandemic. To be honest, since restrictions had seemed to lift during the summer in the US, a naïve part of me thought perhaps I would ease myself into a more normal-feeling life since the US had little to no restrictions, and I would be with family. Truthfully, the opposite has happened in many ways.

I will get to the promises I referred to in the title, but I wanted to take the time to process out loud in this space because there are such polarized responses to COVID all over the world. As much as we in the US may want to politicize things, culture, personality, and upbringing really have as much or more pull in deciding how people respond. I just talked to some friends in Asia not long ago, and they attested to seeing the same stark differences I have seen in Honduras and in the US. So, if you’re someone who approaches the situation like me, perhaps you’ll feel affirmed that you’re not alone, and if you’re someone vastly different from me, perhaps you’ll at least be able to consider how the other side may be thinking and interpreting the situation in order to extend compassion even if you can’t reach agreement. We all bring unique experiences and characteristics to the table that affect how we make our choices.

On my end, for starters, I grew up with some understanding of the medical community because my grandmother was a nurse, and my mom is a nurse. Thus, I ended up with a lot of basic knowledge about medicine and germs and a staunch belief that I need to be my own advocate when facing any medical diagnosis or threat rather than blindly trusting doctors. To do that, I also feel like I need to educate myself to the best of my ability—this isn’t necessarily only medical in nature as critical thinking and research were also modeled for me by my dad my whole life. (So I also don’t feel comfortable blindly trusting government either.) So when COVID started, during (what I imagine has become a rite of passage for the times) various exposure scares, and as restrictions were both put in place and loosened, I researched and researched and researched. I was already acquainted with how China had been handling the virus from December of 2019 onward because of my Chinese students through VIPKID. Most of my students hadn’t been outside of their homes for months, and their parents were working from home. About the time that we were in the thick of our cases in Honduras, my Chinese students were returning to school with new protocols of wearing masks, no recess, and various other precautions. I will try to refrain from getting into what I found in researching because the point of this isn’t to persuade you of anything but rather to show you the nuances that have gone into my decision-making process.

I think those nuances are really important because the rhetoric that can get thrown around in polarizing times tends to be very superficial and full of one-dimensional assumptions. Humans are more complex than that. Developing empathy for one another requires us to give the benefit of the doubt and to be willing to delve into those nuances.

When it comes to COVID, after researching and considering that all world governments have been thrust between the rock of COVID and the hard place of the economy, I find myself on the side of personal caution. I can’t pretend to have any idea what the answer is for the way the government should respond, but I can make decisions for how I will personally respond within my own personal context. From my history, maybe that relates to my relationship to the medical community and my compassion for the unspeakable trauma and physical and emotional fatigue they are enduring day in and day out as COVID patients die. From my experience, maybe this relates to being hospitalized for a week three years ago, questioning if I was going to make it, and never wanting to experience that or subject someone else to that experience again. From my analytical personality, maybe that relates to the research I have done into incubation periods, the effectiveness of masks, or the nature of contagion. Yet, as much as I wanted this decision for the last nine months to be all logical, it just isn’t. I know that we have all witnessed and been frustrated by inconsistencies in ourselves, our friends, our family, politicians, and community protocols. But, again, we’re complex beings. Thus, I have had to settle into the realization that COVID decisions, if nothing else, can be an exercise in discernment with God for each specific situation. As much as we can decide to follow or not follow blanket rules we want to make for ourselves or others have imposed, inevitably, we will be presented with ethical questions with no clear right answer.

For example, Honduras experienced two back-to-back hurricanes and still has thousands of people who are homeless and struggling to survive as a result. What does loving others well look like when faced with that reality and the reality of an ongoing pandemic? I have turned this question over and over in my head in the last couple of months. My conclusion has been that it will depend on each individual person and how God is directing each individual person. When I first moved to Honduras, many people asked me why I would go to another country when there was need in the US. The temptation there is to want to compare neediness, but the truth of the matter is that I was going to Honduras not because of the need but because that’s where I felt God was leading me. The old cliché still applies in a pandemic—the safest place for each of us is in God’s will, and His will for you may look totally different than His will for me. The important aspect is to actually take the time to discern with Him what it is that He is asking of us as individuals rather than making assumptions. The tricky aspect of COVID is how each of us can affect one another because of the two-week incubation period. Those of us in ministry or in people-helping professions tend to like to play the hero. We tend to have no problem with the idea that we can sacrifice our own health, our own rest, our own well-being for the good of others. The issue in this case is that playing the hero can also translate into harming the very people we would seek to help. We have seen countless Christians tout the idea that they can behave however they want in the midst of this pandemic because God’s going to protect them. In some cases, I’m sure that has been the case, but in other cases, those same people have published messages of repentance for their arrogance before they pass away from COVID. I have faith and am a Christian, and I also have to call into question the idea that we get to assume what ministry should look like or that we shouldn’t ponder if we need to adapt to the reality at hand. We can tend to see having to change as a result of the pandemic as a threat or even a persecution in some cases, but have we stopped to consider that maybe it’s an invitation? Could it be possible that our definitions of ministry are due for a shift? Could it be possible that God could use a pandemic in Romans 8:28 style to correct our strategies or our direction in how we live out the Gospel? I think these are questions that wisdom at least gives space for (even if we arrive at the same conclusions after pondering). I think we can look back over history to recognize that the times when people have made the assumption that they already know how to spread the Gospel or how to live as followers of Christ without actually seeking those very personal answers in intimacy and relationship with God haven’t always turned out well. The Apostle Peter was one of those people who made the cultural assumption that new Christians needed to submit to Jewish customs via circumcision. It was well-meaning, but ultimately, he was portraying this assumption as coming from the mouth of God when it was actually stemming from his own cultural norms and expectations. Calling ourselves followers of Christ means that we can’t skip that element of following. Following entails looking to a leader, someone before us who may challenge our previous assumptions.

This brings me to the spiritual root of how and why I’ve arrived at my own convictions. A verse that God has used various pivotal times in my life in vastly different contexts that has also cornered me here is James 4:17. It says: “If anyone, then, knows the good they ought to do and doesn’t do it, it is sin for them.” This verse appears in a context of God reminding people to not be arrogant and self-serving in making their plans and to remember that we don’t have a good grasp on how our present fits into the timeline of eternity. I know, based on my experiences, relationships, personality, and research that since I can work and study from home, the good I ought to do is to not make unnecessary trips out and to use precautions when I do go out. I know that the good I ought to do is to wear a mask for my benefit and for the benefit of those around me, and while it is uncomfortable, it costs me nothing to do so. I know that my choices to make unnecessary visits or to socialize just because I feel like it could potentially add to the trauma and burdens of medical personnel, so, especially because I can find other ways of fulfilling my emotional, financial, and spiritual needs, that is the good I ought to do. Can other extenuating circumstances present themselves? Absolutely, and I will have to approach those with the same discernment and intimacy. Does this conviction fly in the face of what I assume ministry and being a missionary tends to look like? Yes, it does. Could I be wrong about the good I ought to be doing? Yes, I could be. But, that’s part of being human. Could my convictions about the good I ought to be doing change? Yes, and I always want to leave room in my relationship with God for that. The fact that this is the good I feel I ought to do does not mean that I dictate the good I think others ought to do. That’s not my job. The good someone else may know deeply that they ought to do might be in-person hurricane relief or visiting lonely relatives or supporting small businesses or keeping a pleasant demeanor in their essential job. As a human, I can struggle with what I would like others to do, but at the end of the day, I want to extend the same benefit of the doubt that I want extended to me.

It has been hurtful to have people, especially our Christian brothers and sisters, accuse those of us who are precautious of living in fear particularly because, if that were the case, I wouldn’t bother to wrestle as much I have. It’s also hurtful because it’s an over-simplification of many complex nuances interacting with one another, and slapping that accusation on someone can tend to be a death sentence for a relationship because it sends the message that you have no interest in actually knowing me and how I landed where I am. And, if the answer were that fear was my reasoning, would that make me any less worthy of kindness and friendship? Or would it just make me human? Haven’t all of us—Christian or not—dealt with fear in some capacity? In the same way, I try to remind myself that it can be equally as hurtful to accuse those who aren’t as precautious of being selfish or uncaring. I would be lying if I said that I fully understand all of the motivations behind the behaviors of others, but I have to embrace the diversity of upbringings, experiences, feelings, and personalities that lead each of us to respond uniquely to the circumstances at hand. That's at the heart of true empathy.

In my journey of trying to understand the actions and attitudes of others, I have landed on an area that I feel tends to drive our responses in profound ways--how we respond to suffering, grief, pain, bad news, illness, disappointments, thwarted plans, and unmet expectations. Whether we like it or not, we've all been presented with some measure of grief this year. It's possible we've refrained from acknowledging it or naming it for what it is, but it's been there nonetheless. The way we respond to and cope with that grief will differ from person to person. Maybe you're the kind of person who sticks their head in the sand, sticks a smiley face sticker on the check engine light, and clenches their eyes tight while putting their fingers in their ears. Maybe you're the kind of person that distrusts any and all information and finds solace in the unattended corners of the internet that offer conspiratorial explanations. Maybe you eat your weight in comfort food (anyone remember my return to chocolate pudding?), wrap yourself in a fuzzy blanket, and turn to nostalgia shows and movies to escape in style. Maybe you find yourself snapping at your family, cussing out a broken dish, and punching a wall when the news comes on. Maybe you struggle to get out of bed, obsess over all of the worst-case scenarios, and can't seem to find light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe you play an internal bargaining and justification game in your head, making certain sacrifices and finding reasons to justify not sacrificing in other areas because you've paid your dues. I'd venture to say that we're all some combination of the above on any given day. Though it might be cause for adamant retort, I have long wondered that perhaps some of the very same people wagging fingers in the faces of others and accusing them of living in fear might just be afraid of facing negative feelings and the reality of loss. We're living in times when our whole being is being torn in different directions, and coping mechanisms we may have never known about previously are coming to the surface. 

For that reason, I think as humans we are being presented with a unique opportunity to delve into the ways we each tick, to hold them up to the light of a loving Father, and to ask whether our response is God-given or stemming from places of insecurity. Are we choosing our response because we've really searched our hearts and motivations, or are we just taking the knee-jerk path of least emotional and relational resistance? Are we looking inward and upward, or are we busying ourselves with looking outward with blame, suspicion, and entitlement? Are we letting God draw our lines in the sand, or are we drawing our own lines to protect ourselves from suffering? Are we willing to risk discomfort to truly delve into what is driving our behaviors? I think a lot of us are struggling with feelings of lost time, but I think if we would take the time to discover what is being uncovered by our circumstances, we might be able to redeem this time and heal and grow in ways we haven't been able to do before. 

In regard to the Body of Christ as a whole--and maybe I'm referring more to the Western church than anywhere else--, I have wondered if we can be good losers. As I mentioned back in May, we tend to run from suffering and grief, preferring to slap Bible verse and cliché Band-Aids onto deep brokenness. Pulpits have long been full of messages of God's blessings and prosperity, which generally draw the masses to God's goodness. He is certainly good, but His Son--the One we follow--also drank the cup of suffering that God placed before Him for the benefit of the world. Would Jesus have actually gone to the cross if He responded to suffering as we respond to suffering now? 
"These governmental and religious officials are trying to take away my rights! They think they can control me? There's no way God would ask me to do something that would inconvenience me much less cause me bodily harm. God is a good God. He wants me to be able to keep expanding my ministry. I'm drawing larger and larger crowds by the day. This is just the enemy trying to upend the spread of the Gospel!" You're completely allowed to believe that I'm way off-base here, but my point is that Jesus didn't make the assumption that God would never ask Him to suffer, to lose, and to grieve. He took that wrestle with suffering to the Garden of Gethsemane to dig deep into what His choice should be. Jesus did suffer tremendously. For all appearances, Jesus lost against His enemies who did take His rights away and did inflict far worse than inconvenience, but He did so with peace because He knew that's what God was asking of Him. If we seek to know Him and be His friend, heck, even if we seek to live Biblically, we have to have a mature stance toward loss, grief, and facing reality. How can we begin to be relevant to the world that is losing loved ones to COVID, that are suffering nightmares of patients on ventilators and dying alone, that are unsure of where their next meal is coming from, that are agonizing over decisions like keeping children in school or doing online learning, or who are unsure of why all of this is happening if we aren't willing to acknowledge even our own loss? When Christians refuse to acknowledge and name reality, they cheapen their impact and, quite frankly, look insane to the rest of the world. The church in Acts suffered. They lost their leaders to genuine martyrdom rather than figurative cancellation. They sometimes had to shake the dust off of their feet or escape in the middle of the night because the place where they were ministering wasn't safe. Paul experienced shipwreck. Stephen was stoned. Bad things did happen to those who were serving God. The structure of our faith is not based on avoiding suffering but rather on serving the God who is worthy in spite of suffering and finding He has never left our side. 

I know I'm tipping my hand at this point, so I'm just going to get to those aforementioned promises that speak to my own stance on the COVID situation but also apply to so many aspects of life:

"It is because of the Lord's lovingkindnesses that we are not consumed, because His [tender] compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great and beyond measure is Your faithfulness. 'The Lord is my portion and my inheritance,' says my soul; 'Therefore I have hope in Him and wait expectantly for him.' The Lord is good to those who wait [confidently] for Him, to those who seek Him [on the authority of God's Word]. It is good that one waits quietly for the salvation of the Lord. It is good for a man that he should bear the yoke [of godly discipline] in his youth. Let him sit alone [in hope] and keep quiet, because God has laid it on him [for his benefit]." -- Lamentations 3:22-28, Amplified Bible

As I enter 2021, I've been asking myself the questions of, "If I would have known the pandemic would last so long, what would I have done differently in 2020?" "What habits would I have instated from the beginning?" "What would I have wanted to have beforehand?" There are a lot of answers to ponder, but more than anything, I am entering into 2021 with an understanding of lockdown. The Sabbath was given to us as a gift to receive. I can either scorn these times of isolation and precaution, or I can embrace them as a gift the Lord is giving me with a divine purpose. I believe that there is light at the end of the tunnel and that this won't always be the state of the world. But, for now, I have to live in reality rather than what I wish were reality. When I am stripped of ministry as I know it, and it's time for the soil to rest rather than be planted, when my interactions with others are limited, am I enough because He is enough? Can I receive this time as for my benefit even if it is uncomfortable, and even if everyone else around me is returning to life as normal? I hope so and may it be so. 

As we all enter 2021, regardless of how we choose to respond to COVID, I hope that we will be brave enough to ask ourselves the hard questions, to let God examine our motives for our decisions, and to grow as a result of letting ourselves be deeply known.