God's Promises in the Midst of COVID Anniversaries

Photo by Andrea Davis

Today marks a year that Honduras closed its borders and went into a constant, COVID-induced lockdown (with some variations) for eight months straight. I don't think we'll be able to get a firm grasp on how COVID and all of its related factors have affected us as humans across the globe until we have the benefit of some extended hindsight. Yet, there are some acute effects that have seemed inescapable at times. 

Throughout the duration of the pandemic, a huge human experiment has seemed to be evolving in terms of how each one of us handles pain, loss, and suffering. Denial, blame and displacement, regression, rationalization, avoidance, humor, and so many others have all reared their heads. We saw so many attempts by people in the public--Christians included--to try to make sense of what was happening and why. Politicians and the media made the narrative landscape a minefield to navigate in search of truth. There were so many public prophecies from people I (still) respect proclaiming that the pandemic wouldn't last past April or that it wouldn't be allowed to kill many people. And yet, here we are a year later. 

I am currently reading Pete Greig's book, God on Mute, about processing unanswered prayers, and so far, it is echoing what has been an ongoing theme throughout my own pandemic experience--it's all about relationship. Knowing and believing fully that God could wipe out COVID in the blink of an eye and making sense and some kind of peace with the reality that thousands have already died and deaths continue has been hard some days. In some cases, it has very much felt like a "you can't live with Him, but you can't live without Him" reality. There is a certain level of discomfort that can emerge when having to hold two seemingly opposing truths in tandem. Like two magnets repelling one another, some days the instinct is to bounce away in escapism. It has given new meaning to Psalm 139 where the psalmist is asking where he can go to escape God. We always read that passage with awe that God will never abandon us and rightfully so. But I think there is also some humor and humanity in reading that passage and imagining that God is like the spouse we've just had a fight with only we live in a tiny house and can still hear Him breathing and chewing. Yet, even in those moments of exasperation wondering where we can go to get some peace from hanging by a thread onto God's goodness and contemplating all of the unanswered whys, He is still there. We can still crawl up into His lap like the kid whose dad just disciplined them who needs a reassuring hug. We can also roll our eyes, throw ourselves on the ground, and stomp our feet if we need to. 

We may never cognitively understand what has been happening in the heavenlies, in the airways, or in God's mind throughout coronavirus. We may wrestle with the emotions that have been excavated or newly presented during this time frame for years to come. But we have only to breathe--as one of the spared--to experience God's goodness even if that evokes a mixture of gratitude and survivor's guilt. That's not a sentimental cliche. It's just a fact--for whatever reason, you and I are still here, and He's still here with us.

While everyone has their own path to peace, mine has looked like surrender. Our expectations have been thwarted. As humans, we're designed to be story tellers and to find meaning, so we have only been going along with the way we've been designed by trying to perceive the light at the end of the tunnel or the great purpose behind why God is allowing all of this to happen. Yet, the release for me has come from embracing my own fragility and inability to see with eternal eyes. In giving up my penchant for neat plot points and foreshadowing, a character arc and a happy ending, I have given myself permission to be a child, to live and experience this present moment in time, and to put my hand on His chest to feel that He is breathing just as I'm still breathing. When I don't insist on being as smart as the Author, I am free to believe Brene Brown's breakthrough in her book, Rising Strong--that He is doing the best that He can within the confines of an eternity He is already present to that is beyond my grasp. 

I have found that what I need isn't an answer anyway. It's the experience of Him because when He is near, and I let myself really perceive that and drink it in, it gets easier to believe that He is good in spite of it all. This brings me to the verses that provide the lens I want to see through throughout the rest of this pandemic and in those future dark nights of the soul:

"for he who touches you, touches the apple of His eye." -- Zechariah 2:8b (Amplified)

"Anyone who strikes you strikes what is most precious to me." (Good News Translation)

"The Eternal your God is standing right here among you,
and He is the champion who will rescue you.
He will joyfully celebrate over you;
He will rest in His love for you; He will joyfully sing because of you like a new husband." -- Zephaniah 3:17 (VOICE)

"The Lord your God is with you;
his power gives you victory.
The Lord will take delight in you,
and in his love he will give you new life.
He will sing and be joyful over you" (Good News Translation)

"And he will stand to lead his flock with the Lord’s strength,
in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God.
Then his people will live there undisturbed,
for he will be highly honored around the world.
And he will be the source of peace." -- Micah 5:4-5a (New Living Translation)

"And He shall stand and shepherd and guide His flock
In the strength of the Lord,
In the majesty of the name of the Lord His God;
And they shall dwell [secure in undisturbed peace],
Because at that time He shall be great [extending His authority]
[Even] to the ends of the earth.
5 This One [the Messiah] shall be our peace." (Amplified)

I think what the world needs at the moment isn't a neat narrative tied with a moral bow. I don't think everyone would buy that anyway even if such a thing were to present itself. I think it's okay and necessary for the public prophets to admit they were wrong and to revel in the value of their silence and seeking just as much as in their verbal guideposts. If anything is to offer hope, I think it's providing the experience of relationship with God. It's a kind of relationship where people can be invited to be angry without spooking anyone, where people can grieve and be met with a knowing nod toward their questions rather than a Christian cliche, and people can feel that we're here just as Jesus is here, and we're breathing in our humanity together.