Isaiah 43:18-19a. "Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing."
Some of my favorite books of the bible are those written by the prophets: Isaiah, Jeremiah, Hosea, and Micah in particular. I find them relatable because I see so much of our culture in them and their critique of humanity speaks to my hyper-critical soul. As I thumbed through my well-worn study bible (always buy the hardcover, not the paperback) today, my eyes rested upon that verse from Isaiah above and it tugged my heart. While its ancient context was comparing the Babylonian exile to the Mosaic exile, I keep using the exile metaphor with my church folks about our current quarantine situation because I think it is the best biblical context for where we find ourselves, even if our exile is being stuck in our homes instead of forced out them. Even within our homes, most of our daily routines and schedules, all that is familiar and known to us, life as we know it has been completely uprooted, complete with the danger of contracting a sometimes fatal illness. That is its own exile.
The longer this stretches on, I think the more we all long for normalcy. Most of us long to go back to the way things were before anyone had ever heard of Covid-19. Last week was a hard week for me. The weather was cold, and I found myself huddled under my electric blanket in my favorite, ancient overstuffed recliner, reading every article I could find on Apple+ about what life is expected to look like in the upcoming months. Unsurprisingly I learned that no one expects it to return to normal any time soon, if ever again.
I had a conversation with my Dad yesterday about how the slightest details of my family's lives have changed and what I think I'll keep (weekly produce delivery for the win) when this is all over. Just as the experts (who are these people?) are forecasting travel to change dramatically for the next few years (more road trips and Air B&Bs where people feel like they are in control of their environment and in less contact with strangers), our very ways of being in the world will change from our individual and collective experiences in this pandemic. In the midst of all this, God is doing a new thing. We are all doing new things.
My favorite author Glennon Doyle is fond of saying, "We can do hard things." Doing new things is hard. We are doing new things and in that, we are doing hard things. But God is doing those new, hard things with us. In the midst of the new and the unfamiliar, spend some time resting in the knowledge that God is doing new things right alongside you. And just as God brought the Israelites out of Egypt, through the desert, and to the promised land; just as God brought the people out of the Babylonian exile; that same God will bring us through this. And may the new thing God is doing bring us a whole new appreciation for all of God's people who are keeping things going in the meantime.
Prayer: God of new things and all of creation, when we forget, remind us with the strength of your prophets of old who it was that made your new thing possible during this pandemic. We give you thanks for each of them, beloved children you call by name. We ask that your abundant blessings rain down on those putting themselves in harms way in ambulances and hospitals, those working in pharmaceuticals, those working in medical research, for those brave souls allowing themselves to be used in medical research, for those working on the front lines of retail as cashiers and stockers, for those delivering our mail and packages and groceries and takeout, for the personal shoppers and gas station attendants, for the restaurant staff preparing takeout and drive through, for the first responders--may we always remember who it was on the front lines that allowed Your new thing to break through. Amen.
Some of my favorite books of the bible are those written by the prophets: Isaiah, Jeremiah, Hosea, and Micah in particular. I find them relatable because I see so much of our culture in them and their critique of humanity speaks to my hyper-critical soul. As I thumbed through my well-worn study bible (always buy the hardcover, not the paperback) today, my eyes rested upon that verse from Isaiah above and it tugged my heart. While its ancient context was comparing the Babylonian exile to the Mosaic exile, I keep using the exile metaphor with my church folks about our current quarantine situation because I think it is the best biblical context for where we find ourselves, even if our exile is being stuck in our homes instead of forced out them. Even within our homes, most of our daily routines and schedules, all that is familiar and known to us, life as we know it has been completely uprooted, complete with the danger of contracting a sometimes fatal illness. That is its own exile.
The longer this stretches on, I think the more we all long for normalcy. Most of us long to go back to the way things were before anyone had ever heard of Covid-19. Last week was a hard week for me. The weather was cold, and I found myself huddled under my electric blanket in my favorite, ancient overstuffed recliner, reading every article I could find on Apple+ about what life is expected to look like in the upcoming months. Unsurprisingly I learned that no one expects it to return to normal any time soon, if ever again.
I had a conversation with my Dad yesterday about how the slightest details of my family's lives have changed and what I think I'll keep (weekly produce delivery for the win) when this is all over. Just as the experts (who are these people?) are forecasting travel to change dramatically for the next few years (more road trips and Air B&Bs where people feel like they are in control of their environment and in less contact with strangers), our very ways of being in the world will change from our individual and collective experiences in this pandemic. In the midst of all this, God is doing a new thing. We are all doing new things.
My favorite author Glennon Doyle is fond of saying, "We can do hard things." Doing new things is hard. We are doing new things and in that, we are doing hard things. But God is doing those new, hard things with us. In the midst of the new and the unfamiliar, spend some time resting in the knowledge that God is doing new things right alongside you. And just as God brought the Israelites out of Egypt, through the desert, and to the promised land; just as God brought the people out of the Babylonian exile; that same God will bring us through this. And may the new thing God is doing bring us a whole new appreciation for all of God's people who are keeping things going in the meantime.
Prayer: God of new things and all of creation, when we forget, remind us with the strength of your prophets of old who it was that made your new thing possible during this pandemic. We give you thanks for each of them, beloved children you call by name. We ask that your abundant blessings rain down on those putting themselves in harms way in ambulances and hospitals, those working in pharmaceuticals, those working in medical research, for those brave souls allowing themselves to be used in medical research, for those working on the front lines of retail as cashiers and stockers, for those delivering our mail and packages and groceries and takeout, for the personal shoppers and gas station attendants, for the restaurant staff preparing takeout and drive through, for the first responders--may we always remember who it was on the front lines that allowed Your new thing to break through. Amen.
Comments
Post a Comment