These last few months have been strenuous—harder for some than others. While I have hope that loosening restrictions on social distancing and economic restraints will alleviate some of what we have endured together, I hope we don’t pivot too quickly to “happy days are here again.” There are ways we have grown and learned from the challenges presented by the Covid-19 pandemic. I have heard some say, “We can’t go back to normal… normal wasn’t working or healthy,” and I’d say I have to agree with the sentiment. Here are a few things I have learned over the last few months that have spiritual implications:
First, I learned just how much we need Sabbath. Sabbath is more than just ceasing from work and activity, it is purposeful focus on God. As Psalm 46:10 says, “Be still and know I am God.” Slowing down in order to attend to God’s leading increases our spiritual health. This was a lesson I should have learned earlier in life, especially from times of grief and loss when everything should have stopped so I could be fully present with friends and family. But, I hadn’t. The same technology that has made this pandemic bearable because it allowed for some degree of connection with others made it possible in earlier times of forced Sabbath to keep right on working and being productive. I wrote a book while I sat by my mother’s side as she slowly died. I kept writing reports and making plans for ministry years earlier when my father passed away. Even longer ago (pre-internet!) I was back at school the day after my brother passed away because it was my senior year, and my academic pursuits were a big part of how I self-identified. I would not recommend my inattention to God and my own grief to anyone.
These last few months have been different. I have been fortunate that my work situation has remained relatively stable. So, there was no forced Sabbath from work. What I was not prepared for was how much I needed a rest from running around to my children’s sports and clubs, meetings, and dare I say, church activities? My wife and I have mentioned repeatedly that it simply can’t go back to how it was before. We realize that we were exhausted and needed the break from our regular hustle and bustle.
Second, I was reminded how much of our relational language as a society reflects economic terms (and how much I dislike that fact). During the pandemic, governments and businesses alike were forced to make a delineation between those that were “essential” and “non-essential.” Most of these decisions were made with as much of an eye to corporate balance sheets as they were to the public health considerations. As a minister and chaplain, my spirit rankles at the thought of monetizing our relationships with one another, and the labels that inevitable follow. How many of you found out that, regrettably, you were deemed expendable because you were non-essential? I have a word for you… in God’s eyes, we are all essential. To be essential is to be “absolutely necessary” or “extremely important.” Paul, in that wonderful eighth chapter of the book of Romans, makes the point that God’s love for each of us is so great that God didn’t withhold his very Son from death to save us. Now nothing in all creation—even death!—can separate us from that love. The lengths to which God has already gone to for you express just how essential you are to Him.
Third, this momentary adversity has revealed what was within us—individually, and as a nation and world. We’ve proven resilient and compassionate and empathetic. We cheered for health care workers saving lives while risking their own and lifted up the valiant efforts of teachers to keep some sense of normalcy for their students. We found new ways to connect with one another and pull together for the common good. In all this, I hope we learned to be kinder to ourselves and others. As my friend Tracie mentioned to me, “We’re all doing the best we can. It might not look perfect, but try not to judge yourself… or others!” Another good friend, Debbie, wondered how she could help, even when she was unsure of what to do. Comments like these give me hope. We all need the grace to know that even our faulty efforts at community and compassion are worthwhile. Prayer matters. Reaching out in conversation, checking in on a neighbor, and persevering through our own discomfort makes a difference. In this way we “love our neighbors as ourselves” and make the world a better place (Mark 12:31; Leviticus 19:18).
Let me close by encouraging you to do two things: choose one practice from the last few months that you absolutely want to carry forward into the rest of the year, and one thing that fell away from your daily routine that you want to make sure not to return to once “normalcy” returns. Tell your family and friends about these things, so they can hold you accountable. If you’d even like to reach out to me, I’d be glad to hear of what you have learned from your self-reflection.
The Reverend Chris Haughee is a licensed minister of the Evangelical Covenant Church and currently serves as a chaplain to children in a residential setting. An adoptive father to two, Chaplain Chris Haughee is an advocate for greater inclusion of foster and adoptive families in the life and ministry of local congregations. He has written a curriculum for introducing churches to trauma-informed ministry practices, Bruised Reeds and Smoldering Wicks, which is being used by hundreds of ministries in more than 35 states and four different countries. He has also written two devotional books available on Amazon. You can follow his ministry on Facebook (@revchrishaughee ) or contact him at pastorhaughee@yahoo.com
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