The Issue of Isolation

There is a spectrum that is starting to reveal itself in these days. I'm thinking of calling it 'The Isolation Spectrum.' Each person who has ever lived has traversed the spectrum. The positioning changes from day to day, sometimes hour to hour, but we far too often recognize where we are on it and what it means for our life.

Now, this is something that I've made up. I am not a psychologist and certainly not an anthropologist, but I, like many people, have an awareness of others' placement on this line, but first, perhaps we'll take a shot at putting some points on the continuum.

I'll be using the life of Jesus as a template for loneliness. No one in history has run the full gauntlet, so it will look something like this:

Solitude - Testing - Self-Isolation - Cultural Isolation - Familial Isolation - Outcasting - Exile

____I_______I___________I_____________I______________I_______________I_______I____

From left to right, the difficulty of being alone worsens. From Solitude, a purposeful, self-chosen short term event to Exile, an indefinite utter external rejection and abandonment by all. This spectrum allows us to see where we are at various times, what might be occurring spiritually and emotionally and then some opportunities to discuss ways to work through being isolated.

There are many other spots on this continuum that we could label, but to keep things manageable, let's have working definitions from these seven and place Jesus at those moments.

Solitude: Although the dictionary states that solitude is the 'state or situation of being alone,' I think it falls short in the fact that solitude, especially self-chosen, is one that is necessary and functional. There is a reason that Superman went to the Fortress of Solitude and not the Fortress of Isolation. Solitude carries with it a necessary 'aloneness' so that one can find oneself and have some space to understand the future.  (Mark 1:35)

Testing: If, when you were in any kind of class, testing was often done solo and separation was necessary. Think back to whatever test, written or oral, and the difficulty of relying on one's own resources to bring about success. In this time of isolation, we get a feeling of who we are and where we are in preparation for the future. (Luke 22:39-46; Luke 4:1-13)

Self-Isolation: This phrase has become a catch phrase over the last months in an attempt to gain control over the spread of the coronavirus. Interestingly, the person in Self-Isolation often is more connected with others because of an internal response of being deprived of communal interaction.  (Matthew 14:22-32)

Cultural Isolation: Administered by the community, or the government, one who offends the ruling body, or the power of the corporate is isolated from most aspects of society including clubs, religious institutions, economic opportunities and events. The person isolated by culture might still have the support of family and friends. (Matthew 23)

Familial Isolation: On this part of the spectrum, it is not only the surrounding culture which has rejected the person, but his or her closest relationships. As these relationships break down, the one who has been isolated from family and friends feels abandoned and emotionally shipwrecked on a deserted island. Still, the one isolated may make connections with others who are in the same circumstance. (Mark 3:20-35, 6:1-6)

Outcast: Like a leper, not only is the outcast alone, but only allowed contact in scarcity. Seen as a blemish on society (and is often of the same opinion) the outcast must skirt the edges of human relationships. Scorned and derided, the outcast finds a spiritual, emotional and psychic fence between him/her/other outcasts and the rest of society. (Luke 22:47-62)

Exile: No one chooses exile. It is abject and utter separation from all things and all people. Once one is given the sentence of exile, despair is often experienced. All connections are severed - it is the ultimate expression of loneliness and hopelessness. (Mark 15:33-41)

In the next weeks we'll ponder the ramifications of isolation. We'll ask questions like: Where is God in my loneliness? Even though I am isolated, how can I maintain connection with others? What do I pray for? What don't I pray for?

As we look through some biblical stories, we'll place the episodes on the continuum and ponder what the people are feeling, learning, doing and hoping. Then, perhaps, we may begin to shed some light on what our own 21st century opportunities of isolation offer us.

As of this moment, where are you on the Isolation Spectrum?

Isolated Incidents

The one who isolates pursues selfish desires; that one rebels against all sound wisdom.  (Proverbs 18:1)

I had to chuckle at this verse as it was the first one of my devotion this morning. This translation, from the Christian Standard Bible, may be true in the general idea, but for our 2020 thoughts about COVID-19, I'm not sure that self-imposed isolation has anything to do with selfish desires, but communal necessity and good.

But, the Bible verse does start us on a quest for understanding: What is the difference between isolation and solitude? Can we develop a theology of isolation? Imprisonment? Solitude? Exile? Can we do this together?

Throughout the Bible, various people ranging from prophets to prisoners, kings and their cousins, Jews and Gentiles, have been unceremoniously cast out of their every day lives to exist in either self-imposed or administered exile. I've been trying to make a list of Biblical figures who fit these parameters, and the longer I think, I wonder if every character did not fit the bill at one point or another. Not all were exiled from each other, but certainly, in the beginning, Adam and Eve were isolated physically from God, perhaps even his voice was muffled (and not even because the computer microphone was muted).

Noah took the last boat.
Abraham was a stranger in a strange land.
Joseph was exiled from his family in Egypt.
Ruth defied logic to self-isolate from her people.
David found cave-life to be difficult.
The prophets of God were outcasts from their people.
Mary found herself 'blessed' by an 'impossible' pregnancy.
The early Christians were imprisoned for their faith.
Jesus was cut off from everyone, even the Father.

And so we find ourselves in government imposed self-isolation, quarantine, whatever terminology that we never thought we'd be using as an entire world. Like all of the faithful people of the past, we are confronted, literally assailed, by the thought of being separated from others. This is a scary thing, an itch that cannot be scratched. Somewhere in the back of our minds, or at least my mind, is this echoing, reverberating thought:

Will there ever be an end to this isolation, or separation?

One of the greatest movies every produced on this theme of isolation/separation/exile would have to be Castaway. Tom Hanks, FedEx bigwig, finds himself on an airplane across the Pacific Ocean. While boarding the plane, one of the flight attendants asks Tom Hanks' friend about her battle with cancer. Tom looks surprisedly at his friend, unaware that she had been sick. It seems that Tom had never enquired about the deep things of life. They had not connected beneath the surface of everyday life to talk about the scary things swimming underneath.

This kind of connection hadn't been important to Tom. Work, business, travel all seemed to take precedence.

But then, after being separated, stranded on a deserted island, we're taken on a journey of exile. If one watches closely, one gets an understanding that survival can occur with the basic necessities, but what is the one thing that Tom most desperately desires?

An end to isolation. He wants connection with humans and to hear their voices, to see the creases in their skin, to smell their deodorant...

In the beginning we are all created for connection, but we all encounter dis-connection (isolation, separation and exile) at various points in life.

For this week (at the very least) we'll look at some of these biblical figures in their times of isolation/exile/separation and gaze at them through theological lenses. What is God teaching them in their time of isolation? What are they hearing, learning or experiencing that will help later in life?

Tomorrow we'll start Jacob and his relationship with Esau. If you have a chance, read Genesis 32 and 33. We'll do a brief overview beforehand and then get into meat of it.

Over the Fence

I walked down the street in the brilliant sunshine with an aluminum pan. Unfortunately, no one was watching because most people have been asked to stay inside, but if they would have questioned me, I would have told them I was a delivery guy.

My delivery was a pasta bake which Christine, my wife, had whipped up in the morning. In fact, she had fashioned four or five meals for delivery because cooking is one of the things that she loves to do. Amazingly, when people tap into their God-given gifts, joy seems to bubble up from beneath the bedrock of routine life. A fissure of hope allows this joy to reach the surface, and I could see it in Christine's face that she was expectantly excited about having this food end up in the hands of people who can really use it.

So, I walked up the street, sun glinting, a blinding reflection off the tinfoil. I approached the house of the elderly couple whose wedding I had officiated two years before. When I reached the gate to their backyard, I could see through the small portal where Jurgen and Marienne were sitting on their verandah reading the Bible and having devotions.

I called out to them, but they couldn't tell who it was, even with my accent. This was because the gate reached to the very top of my nose and all that they could really see, even with a small portal, was the top of my shiny head. As Jurgen approached, it was very much like the show 'Home Improvement' where I had become Wilson.

Once Jurgen and Marienne figured out who I was and why I was carrying an aluminum pan, they chatted amiably up and over the fence. Marienne wanted to show me her devotions, 'The word the Lord had shown her that day,' which was from Psalm 121.

I lift my eyes to the hills. Where does my help come from? It comes from the Lord.

The entire psalm speaks of God's protection in the midst of troubled times. For many, the Psalm reads and sits perfectly in the midst of a turbulent and tumultuous time in earth's history, when many are seeking both help and protection. Where does this help come from?

Not a location, but a Lord.

Jurgen smiled as his wife spoke excitedly about the scripture, but I'm sure his memory was sent back to our last discussion. It went something like this:

Jurgen: I went to church last Sunday.
Me: Which church?
Jurgen: Our church.
Me: But... but... it was closed.
Jurgen: No kidding. But I went anyway because that's what I do. That's what I've always done. I go to church on Sundays. And now that there are no worship services in the... (Jurgen's eyes began to fill with tears)... you can see I'm pretty emotional about it.
Me: I'm very sorry, Jurgen.
Jurgen: It doesn't matter. I'm okay with emotion. Anyway, I went to the front doors of the church and I got down on my knees and prayed. And I cried.
Me: (My mind was recreating the scene of this 80 year old man on his knees at the front entrance of the church weeping, praying to God to 'Let us back in, please.') It has been hard, hasn't it.
Jurgen: But it has taught me one big thing.
Me: What's that?
Jurgen: God is with me out here. (He pointed to the ground on which he stood.)

It would be a simple thing to think that the church building doesn't matter; and intuitively, we know that our help does not come from the hills, the high places or the temple itself, but for Jurgen, the actual place we gather was important because it symbolises the place where God comes to us. Even though we know that God is with us (point to the ground) out here, that gathering place is a refuge in the storm. And, as much as I'd like to think I'm good in front of a camera for live streamed worship - I'm not. I think all of us are better in person no matter the place.

I also think that when this whole thing is over and we begin streaming back to the building rather than live streaming into our homes, we'll never take for granted the opportunity to worship together. Or at least I hope we don't.

As I waved to Marienne and Jurgen over the fence that had to separate us, I realised that even in the midst of this struggle, our protection and help comes from God, but we are part of the assistance wherever we are. Enjoy serving others!

Just Don't...

The first car I remember my parents owning was a forest green, early 80's, wood-panelled Family Truckster station wagon. My parents were so proud to be driving the same kind of wheels as the Griswalds (of the National Lampoon's Vacation fame). The plush interior, green fake-leather seats and adjustable headrests for the parents, along with an am/fm radio with SIX! programmable buttons for radio stations created a supreme sense of luxury.

My parents would sit like royalty in the front bench seat; we three young kids (my little sister wasn't born yet) would either sit in the back seat or crawl over into the luggage compartment area where we could move around. Because this was before seatbelts, the blessing of not sitting next to my brother or sister was wonderful.

On long trips, though, the luggage area would be jam-packed with necessities for our trip to Wallyworld, and we, the kids, would be crammed like pre-pubescent sardines into the non-airconditioned backseat, heads thrust toward the half-opened safety windows for a breath of fresh air. Sometimes, though, we would get along quite well. Chatting amiably, we three would tell stories and my parents would smile, satisfied at having such nice, well-behaved children riding in the back seat of their station wagon.

Invariably, though, one of my parents would make the mistake to turn their head to look backwards and say, "Oh, it's so nice to see you kids getting along."

I mean, what does a kid do when his parents encourage him about his ability to behave? He misbehaves. Perhaps he thinks: Am I missing something? If they are enjoying my good behaviour, maybe I'm actually supposed to be misbehaving?

Somewhere deep inside me, I know that I want to do exactly the opposite of what my parents tell me. If they say, "Don't throw your peas at the ceiling," I think, Why not? Is there something to be gained by tossing my food above my head?

If they say, "Don't climb onto the roof of the chickenhouse," I think, Why not? Is there something up there that I need to see?

If they say, "Put on your seatbelt," I think to myself, That's just because they're old. I'm too good of a driver. There must be something exhilerating about driving without restraint.

Throughout history, God has given his people commands. This is what a good parent does. They put boundaries on their children because not only do they know what's best for them, but they know what creates healthy relationships. But think about all the times in the Bible when God, knowing what's best for us, says, "Just don't..."

"You can eat of every tree in this garden, just don't eat this one." God points to one in the middle; it looks like it has really nice, juicy fruit, and now that God has pointed it out, that's all I can think about. Maybe God wants to keep all the fruit for himself? Maybe there's something about it, something I'm missing out on if I don't eat it. Maybe God doesn't want to share knowledge.

"Just don't make any other idols for yourself." God knows that there's no life, no power, nothing in things made out of stone from human hands. But now that he has pointed out idols, that's all I can think about. There is something really enticing about worshiping something I've made. I have control over it. Maybe God just doesn't want to share power.

"Don't do anything out of selfish ambition, or vain conceit, but in humility, consider others as more important than yourselves. Everyone should look out not only for their own interests, but for the interests of others." There is something really enticing about living in my own castle surrounded by all the stuff that I've earned. The thought resonates in our egos and we begin to look at others who do not have the same kind of stuff, or ability to get it, and we deem them not as 'capable,' or 'lazy' or 'not as valuable.' Suddenly, humanity is dripping with self-ish ambition, vain conceit and a lethal dose of pride.

God knows that from the moment sin entered the world, the heart of humankind has always been rebellious. Lurking at the core of the human heart is the need to be like God, the need to have power over our environment and our lifestyle.

And this is definitely manifesting itself in 2020. Restrictions from authority have come to us. "Don't touch or even come near other people." What is the first thought that comes to us? But all I can think about is seeing other people now. The government can't tell me what to do. I'll show them. Yesterday afternoon, we witnessed six people who had pulled a container of beer across the street and were playing Finska in the middle of the walking path. Social distancing and isolation didn't seem to apply to them who had little chance of becoming ill from the disease.

"Don't panic." This is the worst of the lot. As soon as this command comes from authorities, people will panic. The captain of a cruise ship begins her message before entering the storm, "Don't panic. Our ship is big enough to withstand this." But everyone panics. Imagine the pilot of an airplane saying, "Don't panic."

Governments who lead with, "Don't panic," have guaranteed it. I hadn't thought about panicking, but if they are telling me that I shouldn't, well there must certainly be something to panic about.

If only governments, nations, churches, people of faith could hear and speak first with these words - this command - from 1 John: God is love and the one who remains in love remains in God and God remains in them. In this, love is made complete with us so that we may have confidence on the day of judgment, because as he is, so also are we in this world. There is no fear in love; instead, perfect love drives out all fear, because fear involves punishment. So the one who fears is not complete in love. We love because he first loved us. If anyone says, 'I love God,' and yet hates his brother or sister, they are a liar. For the person who does not love his brother or sister whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen. And we have this command from him: the one who loves God must also love his brother and sister.    1 John 4:16b-21

The command 'let us love one another' (4:7) is not actually a command, but an invitation. Thus, we don't have to feel the need to rebel from it. The command is an invitation to a fullness of life in community that we may have never felt before.

In 2020, we are invited not with 'Don't do this...' but 'Let's do this. Let's love one another.'

Let's keep physical distance for a while, so that love is shown.

Let's buy groceries for our neighbours as well as ourselves because they are part of the blessed, short existence we have.

Let's hoard our collective joy, hope, love, patience and peace and distribute it unconditionally and freely to a scared world. Let it be more valuable than toilet paper or pasta.

Let's stand together.

Mid-Week Break

The afternoon blazed with beautiful sunshine; the grass radiated healthy-greenness; the wind was warm for those of us who were outside for school recess. Children's voices, loud and jubilant, floated on the same warm breeze. With yellow vest wrapped around my shoulders, I tilted my face to the sun and not for the first time wondered if all of this difficulty was just a bad dream.

My lunchtime guard duty was in the dusty patch of space called Deborah Grove. Meeting me at the gate were a dozen children all wanting to erupt into their play space, but one of them, Millie, met me with a joyful smile. She held out her hand to me, as always, and wanted to take my hand. Frustratingly, I had to tell her that we aren't allowed to have our hands connect - no high fives (or in her case, a low five). Millie shrugged, smiled her big gappy smile, one tooth missing and another ready to eject from her mouth, and said, 'Okay. But watch me. I'm going to do a handstand.' Then, with nimble ease, she transitioned from the disappointment of disconnection to using her hands for stands.

She, along with all the children at the school, are the purest of all creation. And, I think that God has always, always, always had a special place in his heart for the little ones. Maybe that's why he came to us as a child and not immediately as an adult.

One of the most amazing things about Jesus, the king of all creation who has power over wind, sea, storms, sickness and even death, seems to be powerless against the innocence of children.

"People were bringing little children to Jesus in order that he might bless them, but the disciples rebuked them. When Jesus saw it, he was indignant and said to them, 'Let the little children come to me. Don't stop them, because the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly, I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.' After taking them in his arms, he blessed them."

What does it mean that 'whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it?' When do we stop being a little child? How do we recapture that?

Instead of entering into a dialogue about the struggles of life, the fear and the threats that chip away at the 'outer child' turning us into an inner child, Jesus instructs and leads us to experience the world in a way that seeks him and seeks others. This kingdom of God experienced by a child is one of wonder and learning, a deconstruction of difficulty and one of faith, guided by questions.

How are you, as a little child, feeling today? Are you, like the small, little boy who encountered me on the playground at lunch, excited about a beautiful day? He looked up at me, pushed his glasses further up onto his nose and exclaimed, 'Pastor Reid, I love life.' Or maybe you are in the same place as the ten-year-old boy who said five minutes later, 'Pastor Reid, it feels like we've lost everything. This covid-19 is really messing up my life.'

Ten. He's ten.

How are we, adults, bringing people into the blessing of Jesus so that they can experience the present kingdom of God right here and now without fear, but with a simultaneous sense of awe and respect? Can you talk with kids about their fears and about their hopes for the future? Can we help little children hear just as much about the love of God as the fear of the virus?

God give you wisdom and joy as we keep moving.

For Whom the Bell Tolls

My friend, Cees, (pronounced 'Case') is Dutch. Well, that's where he was born and raised; his speech still has tinges of the beautiful Dutch accent, but now he lives in Australia and has for almost forty years.

Cees is a butcher by trade, and a very good one. Cees is also an exceptional pastoral carer and helps far and wide (even in the butcher shop) to bring peace into places of discord. This morning, Cees and I got together (where two or three are gathered...) and had a chat about the past, present and future.

The past...

Cees' father, Willem, grew up during World War II. As Holland was overrun by the Nazis, this took an incredible toll on the people of Willem's village. One day, when Willem was in school, he heard a terrible noise. As the children gathered at the window to see what had happened, they noticed that the Nazis had climbed the steeple of the village church and had removed the large church bell from its perch far above the town and had pushed it over the edge where it had made a terrible noise as it hit the ground. That large bell had been ringing out over the countryside to call people to worship for years; the symbolism of the bell being tossed ingloriously over the side - a silencing of the church's voice - was evident to the entire village.

The church's use of the bell was to summon people to gather; the Nazis wanted to melt the bell down to make bullets out of it.

Interestingly, this episode was significant in Willem's life, and throughout the next weeks, the people of the village knew when worship was supposed to occur, and actually showed up in even greater numbers without the bell tolling. The symbolic act of ripping out the vocal cords of the church created an even deeper indwelling of spiritual need. The silence actually caused people to sit up and listen for what was missing. In the ensuing months, Willem's family hid numbers of Jews in their barns - a true testament to their faith. Even when the bell stopped ringing, faith was strengthened.

The present...

What is the symbolic bell for the Church today which has been thrown from its lofty perch? How has this current virus changed (if at all) the communication of the gospel?

If then there is any encouragement in Christ, if any consolation of love, if any fellowship with the Spirit, if any affection and mercy, make my joy complete by thinking the same way, having the same love, united in spirit, intent in one purpose. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others as more important than yourselves. Everyone should look out not only for his or her interests, but also for the interests of others.     (Philippians 2:1-4)

For centuries, and rightly so, the church has been the light on the hill, an illumination in the midst of the darkness of past crises. During the plagues, Christians were some of the first to step out from their homes to bring soup and sustenance to those suffering through the isolation and pain of disease. Unified in love, fellowship, affection, mercy and purpose, the Church continued to bring hope in very practical ways. Worship services were secondary to health services. The average Christian put his or her faith on the line.

In 2020, perhaps this is where we are again? As the epidemic of disease, fear, panic and discord grips the planet, the average Christian, because of unity in the Spirit (and of love, affection and mercy), will put his or her faith on the line. This primary focus of faith makes the online worship service a secondary focus. As much as we would like to go back to the way things were, even just three months ago, this is a new reality. Although we long for worship in our congregational buildings, the construction of personal and corporate faith must go back into the trenches to be the light where darkness has dug in. How does this look?

The future...

In the book, For Whom the Bell Tolls, Ernest Hemingway writes, 'For what are we born if not to aid one another?'

Central to the book is the core of finding people, often people very different to oneself, in the midst of the battle of life. It is here, in the trenches, that we encounter not atheist or believer, but human souls all seeking connection in spite of fear, fatigue and fatalism.

For what are we born if not to aid one another? For it is God who is working in you both to will and to work according to his good purpose. Do everything without arguing or complaining, so that you may be blameless and pure, children of God who are faultless in a crooked and depraved generation, among whom you will shine like stars in the world by holding firm to the word of life...  (Philippians 2:13-16a)

What is the near future of Christianity? To aid others. Yesterday, a man named Peter came to the church building. He was part of the team that creates a space for connection on Monday nights. This team, part of Meet 'n Eat, makes meals for the community but just as importantly creates space for people to listen to life stories as they eat. This is a simplified retelling of what occurs, but the people that share life together would consider it a privilege, honour and blessing to be together.

Peter went to the kitchen to retrieve some meals that had already been prepared. Within minutes, I saw that Peter and Ros were driving away with the meal to take to one of the Monday night community members. This woman had contacted the social media page and called for help. Not surprisingly, these two faithful people were two of the first to volunteer. As the bell rang out for help, they raised their hands to enter the fray.

It is a beautiful thing to see how God is working in his people to work according to his purpose.

A Break from Reality

The reality is, there is no escaping.

I'm not talking about the virus, per se, although some might say this is inevitable; I'm writing about the inescapable difficulty not to be thinking about the coronavirus. Everything we are engaged in, whether media, social isolation or common conversations, are infected with fear.

It's hard work to be afraid all the time. Blood pressure rises. Anxiety increases. Brain function seems to slow because all of our senses are attuned to threats of exposure. It's like a computer that's trying to do routine calculations, but in the background, a six hour video is trying to upload to the internet. All because we can't take a break from reality.

The government's reality is that we are bombarded with COVID-19 rules: don't gather here, don't have too many people, if you've come from somewhere else, stay home for two weeks, wash your hands, etc... If you're anything like me, your head is spinning trying to do the right thing and still feel guilty if you sneeze into your hands.

In some ways, it's eerily similar to a biblical episode in the life of Jesus:

On the Sabbath, Jesus was going through the grainfields, and his disciples began to make their way picking some heads of grain. The Pharisees said to Jesus, 'Look, why are they doing what is not lawful on the Sabbath?'

After giving a biblical precedent, Jesus turns to the Pharisees and says, 'The Sabbath was made for humans and humans for the Sabbath. So, then, the Son of Man is Lord even of the Sabbath.'

In other words, God can do whatever God wants to do any day of the week, including keeping his disciples healthy.

I could go into the background of this passage and the innumerable laws laid down for God's people, but I won't today, because Jesus' important words are about the purpose of the Sabbath. The goodness of this day, a day of rest and refraining from work, is a gift from God to his people. Because they have worked themselves to the bone for six days, there is nothing better than to rest, to put one's feet up, even to have discussions about faith, family and everything in between. Jesus is Lord of this day as well of the other six.

To rest on this day allows the body to resettle back to equilibrium so that the next workweek can begin.

Now, in 2020, it seems that the intention of the Sabbath morphs into something entirely different. Instead of refraining from the labour of our hands, we rest the fear in our minds, the anxiety of our hearts and the constant adrenaline that stimulates our blood to move faster. During this time, we need a Sabbath more than ever, to take a break from the reality (or unreality) of the situation in which we live, to stop, pick the grain nearest to us and stare into the faces of people we love to chat about important things.

How can we do this? How can we have a Sabbath from fear? This isn't rocket science. It's not even seventh grade biology, but it's still good for me to hear:

1. For an entire day, keep the TV, radio, computer turned off. This seems counterintuitive to protect ourselves, but I think the break from immersion of media will be far more helpful than detrimental.

2. Take a bath. As I write that, it sounds funny in my ears. But baths cause us to slow down and soak. Light some candles, put some music on in the background, and relax.

3. Read a book. You can do this while in the bath, but maybe save it for afterwards. Honestly, if you have a real-life book with pages and everything, it will do your sense good to flip the pages rather than swipe them.

4. Lastly, Connect with someone you haven't talked to in a while. For most of us, this means turning on the phone, and the temptation to check the news might be too great, but I say, pick a number between 1-50 and call whoever that is in your phone contacts. You never know what might come up. If you can help it, don't talk about the coronavirus or anything associated with fear. Maybe talk about your history with them.

There are so many things we can be doing on our Sabbaths, but try these four. See what happens. See how you feel at the end of the day. God bless you as you take a break from reality.

Is it Just Me?

Yesterday, I had the opportunity to chat with a man in our community. He is eighty years old, barely, but could easily be confused with someone fifteen years younger. As an active member of the community, he regularly engages in all sorts of social activities, which include interacting with people of all ages, not just those in his age bracket.

As we talked, he kept his distance.

I don't think - no, I know - this is not what he desired. The age group of baby-boomers/greatest generation was built on personal, connected, face-to face interaction, and to be told to self-isolate, or to quarantine is about as debilitating as bashing the computer modem to death and telling teenagers to call their friends on the phone, go outside and play.

He said, "This whole thing, I feel like everything that is important to me has been ripped away from me." First by the government, then by his church.

The subtle but unintended implication of the governments directives and the church's 'desire to take care of the most vulnerable...'

Is that we have inadvertently made some elderly more vulnerable. The eighty-year-old man didn't say this, but I could see it in his eyes:

It's like the rest of the world is treating us as if we have the virus and they're trying to avoid us.

The elderly and the vulnerable are all too aware that they are at risk, but by singling them out for isolation, in some ways that's similar to what happens on National Geographic outdoor documentaries when the oldest and the youngest are separated from the herd. Very quickly, they can be singled out and left worse for wear.

Which is why the 'herd' needs to be protecting the vulnerable in our communities by consistently bringing them along on the journey through these difficult times. We can't assume that they are able to access social media and scroll through their posts and memes to see how valuable they are. We can't assume that they are appreciating the self and social isolation by the 'healthy' members of society. We can't assume that they are even able to go to the shopping stores to purchase their daily bread (not that there is much left on the shelves anyway).

The Bible consistently tells us who we should be looking out for in times of crisis: the widow, the orphan and the poor. The stranger, the outcast, the one who thirsts for a different life.

At this moment in the world's orbit around the sun, we should consistently be looking for ways to walk with people upon this isolated journey and find connection. Here is where we find a healthy community working through the pandemic.

We Are Martians

It seems a strange title, I know.

But as of the last few weeks, it feels like we are inhabiting a strange new planet, dark and desolate, and yet disconcertingly similar. When I wake up in the morning and look outside my window, the same two birch trees reflect the morning light. Magpies warble in connectivity as they hold, what my friend Michael calls, their vociferous Annual General Meeting outside my window. The wind still blows my chimes, haunting tones echoing through the garden. These are all the same and yet everything feels different.

This world seems to feel pinched or squeezed. The people I meet in the streets or at church look out across the roads or parking lots, across the crowded shopping stores with wariness. Each gaze wonders if another person is going to transmit not only the virus, but the fear associated with it and the mandatory isolation that occurs afterwards.

I see these people; I resonate, because I'm trying not to see every human as a vector transmitting disease... and then suddenly I remember:

Nothing much in the world has changed except perspective.

My eyes have been opened and there is no shutting them again.

I woke up this morning and looked at the birch trees, listened to both Magpie and chime and thought to myself, "I'm not trained for this." There is no class in seminary which trains pastors to shift, almost in realtime, the way the Church is meant to be and made to engage. For many pastors and worshiping communities, the landscape has shifted so drastically from large, building gathered worship to live stream discussion, from passing the peace to avoiding it like the... ummm… plague, this shift has created a sense of "Well, now what?" We've been worshiping indoors for so many years; we've been 'doing small groups' for so long, gathering in homes for a Bible study, a meal and some polite conversation; we've been weekend Christians for so long, how can it change almost overnight? How do we change with it?

It's almost like we've been put into an alternative universe or on another planet.

One of my favourite stories/movies is The Martian, novel by Andy Weir, movie starring Matt Damon. As the story goes, (Spoiler Alert) Damon, playing the role of Mark Watney, a botanist on part of a scientific team studying Mars, finds himself in the midst of a storm that no one saw coming. As the team is attempting to hurry back to salvation in their landing unit, Mark is caught outside. The full fury of the storm hits him and a piece of the communication dish pierces his suit through his stomach and he is left behind.

When he wakes up from the storm, he notices that he is isolated and alone. His sense of rescue is gone. And even though the landscape is entirely the same, his perspective is entirely different. Instead of being a scientist earthling, he is now a scared Martian.

The core decision that Mark Watney must make is: Do I throw in the towel, give up, because the storm sucker punched me when we weren't ready? Or, do I work through the process to figure out how to find salvation?

Thus, this contemporary dilemma of the Coronavirus and subsequent fear, has given the Christian Church the same two options. Does the Church throw in the towel and wait for a slow, inevitable death, or, does the Church recognise that the hard work of understanding salvation (work out with fear and trembling your own salvation - Philippians 2:12) and God's calling on the life of the Church and the lives of those who make up the Church.

I prefer the second option. Thus, we are all called to be 'Martians' stranded as strangers in a strange land (as Abraham was called) to work out in a different way how God's salvation can be communicated to a world reeling from the tectonic shift in the air we breathe.

These are the things that Mark Watney did first in the story/movie which I think are good metaphors for how we can move as the Church:

1.  Take stock of health.
2.  Take stock of assets, spiritual, human, financial, prayer, etc...
3.  Work out a procedure for diminishing suffering and prolonging strength
4.  Figure out a new way to communicate from a distance
5.  Overcome fear and give in to faith

These are the next five discourses I'd love to chat about with you. I look forward to being a Martian with you.

A Grave New World - or is it?

Philippians 4 has never had more pertinence for me than right now.

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again, rejoice! Let your graciousness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Don't worry about anything, but in everything, through prayer and petition with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:4-7)

Throughout the week most of us have tuned into various news networks, social media platforms and good old fashioned newspapers to get constant updates on the pandemic. The coronavirus scare has injected the oldest enemy of all - fear - directly into our veins and the symptoms of this fear are manifesting and multiplying daily:

Pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath and sloth. You may have heard of these before - Brad Pitt and Morgan Freeman come to mind, the seven deadly sins.

In times of crises, humanity generally goes to equal and opposite reactions: some surface to great heights of servanthood and care, while others sink precipitously to the bottom of the barrel of fear.

In the first century, the Apostle Paul wrote to an ancient community in Philippi suffering from an epidemic of Roman oppression marked by these soul-crushing sins. I'm sure that some of the Christian world was draped in a blanket of fear, wanting to huddle in the dark, isolate from the rest of the world to take care of themselves and their children. The power of fear is that it paralyses people by worry. The great question of 'What if?' becomes hopelessly difficult in these crises.

And yet Paul reminds us not only that we should not worry (not in a naïve, Pollyanna-ish, 'she'll be right, mate' kind of way) but that we should rejoice. In the midst of these difficult and grave times, this is where the light of Christ and the people of God shine through graciousness, gentleness, peacefulness, self-control - the blessed fruits of the Spirit.

We should rejoice that we are given the opportunity to be the Church as it was intended. Perhaps this is the moment when the world sees us not as a one-hour-per-week kind of community, but an every-hour-per-week culture which looks well past the boundaries of fear and engages in the practical applications of faith:

Pure and undefiled religion before God the Father is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself unstained from the world (James 1:27)

Perhaps this is the time that we take care of all people who are orphans from the world, who have lost significant people and be the people who are not stained by pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath and sloth? Remember, the Lord is near...

Here is the antidote to fear in this the brave new world?

Finally, people of God, whatever is true, whatever is honourable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable - if there is any moral excellence and if there is anything praiseworthy - dwell on these things.  Do what you have learned... (Philippians 4:8,9a)

Hollywood

I'd never been to Hollywood before.

Granted, it's not a place that was exactly on my bucket list.  In fact, it wasn't even on my pail list.  To me, my visions of Hollywood were probably akin to the biblical thoughts about Babel:  a big city making a lot of confused noise.

Christine and I did a few of the tourist things: Santa Monica, Bubba Gump's, Griffith Observatory and, of course, the walk of the stars.

Of course we then pushed our way through the throngs of sidewalking tourists to Graumann's Chinese Theater which is home to the hand and footprints of some of the most famous celebrities of the last generations.  Opened in 1927, Graumann's cement has the imprints of people like Joan Crawford in the 1920's to the most recent addition, Keanu Reeves, in May of this year.  I was surprised at the big names, and my eyes became fixated, star focussed, just like the sidewalk across the street, on one name in particular:

Tom Hanks.

Over the last couple of decades, multiple people have said that I have somewhat of a passing resemblance to the multi-talented actor.  I suppose if Tom Hanks was fifteen years younger, bald and goateed, we'd make reasonable doppelgangers.  I don't know how Mr. Hanks would feel, but I took the comments of resemblance as a compliment.  Who wouldn't want to look like a famous celebrity?  (Unless, of course, that celebrity is Donald Duck whose 'prints' are included at Graumann's also).

When I found Tom's name, his hands and his feet, I followed suit with what I saw everyone else doing around me.  It seemed natural to bend down and compare hand and shoe size.  Noticing that our hands are very similar in size, I smiled up towards the camera hoping that I indeed looked like the great actor with palms and fingers nearly matching.  Certainly, if we had the same measurement, perhaps I could walk in his footsteps.  Maybe I could be the next great actor?  Maybe I could be Hubba Bubba Gump?

When I pulled my hands from the great actor's prints, I realized that as amazing as Tom Hanks is, and as much as I 'idolize' his work, there is another set of prints to which I should be comparing mine.

Therefore, if you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any common sharing in the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete by being like-minded (having the same mind-print), having the same love, being one in the spirit and of one mind.  Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit.  Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of others.

(Philippians 2:1-4)

Do you know who has that mind print?

As much as I know you want to say Forrest, Forrest Gump, and as much the world tells us that life is just a box of chocolates, you never know what you're going to get (so eat as many as you can), this mind-print of humility is the mind and heart of Jesus who pulls us out of our self-absorption and pushes us towards each other.  We place our hands in the marks that he already left and we see the scars of his love, and then we know - following in Jesus' footprints is the most fulfilling step we can take.

That's all I got to say about that.