A Falling House of Cards?

So much depends on everything else. Consider the surprises of the COVID crisis:

Newspapers have little ad revenue, because no one has anything to advertise. Shops are closed and events are cancelled. At the same time, people want the news more than ever.

State governments have little money to spend because sales tax revenue has tanked. No one can make purchases on which to pay taxes.

Hospitals are stretched to the limit, but their revenue is down. Elective surgeries have been cancelled for weeks, and payments for those surgeries bring in millions in revenue.

Police forces get sick, navy ships become infected, soldiers need face masks to protect them from germs.

Parks and playgrounds are closed.

Then there is the falling stock market, the $2 trillion stimulus paid for entirely by government borrowing, sports leagues on hold, festivals and concerts cancelled, small businesses struggling, schools closed, graduations postponed.

Everything depends on everything. The economy is a complex ecosystem, all intertwined. Let's hope it is an ecosystem, not a house of cards. Something invisible has invaded and threatened the whole thing.

And we are learning to depend on people again. If the whole house of cards falls, we will really need each other.

The COVID Generation

I have known a lot of people who grew up during the Great Depression and World War II. These events shaped folks for the rest of their lives.

Both the Depression and the War created scarcity. And this scarcity changed the way a whole generation operated in this world.

I wonder if the youth of today will be shaped similarly by this pandemic. They may always avoid large crowds, and carefully wash their hands. They may remember wistfully the days before the virus when people would hug and shake hands without a second thought.

If the social distancing lasts for months and months, we may see a lasting imprint on culture and habits. We are witnessing history. We just don't know yet what that history will be.

Materialism and Worship

Nothing strikes at the heart of the American soul like a challenge to consumerism. Every politician says that he or she will grow the economy. It's not enough to sustain our level of production and consumption. We must grow. There's no such thing as "big enough" when it comes to our economy. There are no limits. The faster our economy grows, the better. Our civic duty, then, is to keep the economy growing, to consume, to spend, to purchase.

Suddenly the ability to produce and consume has been virtually cut off.

We Americans are raised to be consumers. Even before our children can walk or talk, we tell them about Santa Claus, the one who can give them whatever they ask for.

Ours is a consumer culture. Everything is related to consumption. Consumerism shapes our worship. Shopping is a sacrament.

But now suddenly we can't consume. No one ever thought this could happen. But here we are. No longer can we serve materialism. The god-of-the-growing-economy has be knocked off the throne.

We have no choice but to stay home. Even if we want to flout the rules, the stores are mostly closed. We have space to think. What have we been worshipping? Consumerism? Materialism?

The treadmill of economic growth has stopped. We've been forced to get off. Now we can step back and have a look at it.

Some can't wait for it to crank back up, so they can climb aboard and resume the race. But some of now see that treadmill for what it is: a tiring, relentless, unwinnable race to nowhere. Even the winners don't win. Maybe now we can see it for what it is.

Priorities are changing. Let's rethink this.

Longing to Return

Some of us never knew how much we liked gathering with friends for worship. Or gathering with friends for anything, really. I believe there can be supernatural power when God's people come together to worship and honor him. Somehow God speaks to me profoundly when I am in his presence with others.

Sometimes I experience God's presence when I'm alone, and sometimes when I'm with my family. Now those are about the only times I have. Those moments of clarity before the Lord take me deeper in my love for him.

But I still miss gathering with friends as we turn our hearts together toward Jesus.

In the Old Testament, we learn about the Jewish people who were removed from their homeland and relocated to Babylon. While in exile, the people longed to return home. They ached, even while they knew they must make the best of their situation. God instructed them to settle in, while in the foreign land. They pined for what they had lost. They knew more than ever how great home was.

And so we today, Christians confined to home, long to be together to worship. We don't know how long it will be. We don't know how bad it will be. The germ storm is creeping into our hometowns. And we pray, and wait, and watch.

Maybe now we can realize how deeply we need each other, how deeply we need to raise our voices together in praise to God, how profoundly God speaks to us in worship.

Our longing is really for him. May we seek him, right where we are. He's ready to meet us.

Social Distancing

They might be contagious. I might be contagious.
No handshakes. No high fives. Certainly no hugs.
No toilet paper. Really?
No one would believe this movie script.
The memes were funny. Now they are unsettling.
It doesn't make sense. It can't happen like this. Not here.

Trapped. Checking the news.
Making decisions. Planning for undoing plans.
It's like a snow day without the promise of melt.
Normal is gone.
Forever? No one knows.

Priorities changed.
We give up sports, concerts, conferences.
No Disney? No Broadway?
How long? How long, O Lord?
A germ does what hijacked planes cannot.
Our never-stop culture stops. It has to.
Can we see what matters now?

Community health trumps personal health.
Is this enough? Will it make a difference?
There is no routine now.
There is hope, but it's hard to see from here.
Maybe it's faith.
Can we believe in God's goodness?

"Confessions" Confessions

I just finished reading Augustine's Confessions. It took me 35 years to finish. No kidding. I bought the book at a used book store in 1985 at the recommendation of a mentor, Mark Corts. I may have started reading the book right away, but I'm sure it was over my head. Much of it is still over my head.

So I have some confessions to make about this book. A classic, it has endured for 1600 years, being called "The Greatest Spiritual Autobiography of All Time." Clearly a worthwhile read.

I confess, first of all, that it took me approximately forever to finish it.
There were many parts of it that I really liked and understood. He expresses his heart with all his doubts and questions. Some parts were repetitive and tedious.

I confess that I wonder how anybody had the time, centuries ago, to write so voluminously.

I confess that I must be lazy. I like to write, but can barely hack out a blog post occasionally--with electronic word processing. Augustine, sure he had fewer distractions, but he had primitive writing tools. Maybe he had a scribe, but even dictating his works would be a major feat.

I confess that finishing Confessions became more about checking it off my list than really gaining wisdom from it. I did gain some wisdom, but mainly I just wanted to get it off my partially-read list.

I confess that I remember very little of it, especially the parts that I read decades ago. But it still counts. I did read it, whether I remember it or not.

I confess great admiration for Augustine. He boldly expressed his struggles, doubts, ideas, and insights. He left a great legacy of Christian thought, and he has shaped Western thinking more than we realize.

I confess that I wish I were more dedicated to writing. Nothing endures like writing. Through writing we can communicate directly into the ages. I confess that I hope that I have something worth communicating to someone else, today or tomorrow.

But I doubt that I'll ever have a species of grass named after me.

Twenty Amazing Years

As our church celebrates its twentieth anniversary this Sunday, nostalgia pulls at my heart.
So much has changed in 20 years.

My heart is softer. I cry a lot more these days.
My children have grown and married, fully embracing adulthood.
Stokesdale is growing. There are many more homes and neighborhoods in our community.
While people are more digitally connected, many feel more relationally isolated.
The good news about Jesus still hits us right where we live, bringing us wholeness and well-being.
More people are more anxious. The good news is really good news for the anxious.
Anxiety plagues younger and younger people.
Technology has grown exponentially, and it is changing our lives more than we expected.
There are lots of new buildings, new roads, new businesses, new schools, new parks and trails.
Stokesdale has more than doubled its number of stoplights (from 2 to 5).
I count four new shopping centers in the NW Guilford area.
We moved to new house in Stokesdale.
Little pine trees along the road now tower over fields and highways.
Stokesdale now has a new town hall and town park.
Churches in the community work together more closely than ever.
Genuine love in the church lets people experience God's presence.
Worship music breaks through all the clutter of a hurried life, bringing us into Jesus' presence.
I really need reading glasses now.
I don't feel like I have to fix the world any more.
I believe that Jesus transforms us when we surrender to him.
I can trust him more now to use imperfect people (like me and you) for profound purposes.
I can now let go of a lot of attitudes and preferences that I thought defined me.
God is building his kingdom, and it's fun to step back and marvel at all he has done.