I woke up today feeling as though I live in a novel. Some historical fiction piece set in the wartorn 1940’s where people have to dive into a bomb shelter, not knowing if the world will be there when they emerged the next day. Or maybe its more akin to a sci-fi thriller where civilization survives a biological event of epic proportions when everything around them is contaminated. The truth is that neither of those two scenarios are far from the reality I woke up to today.
Today our governor shut down everything nonessential in our state and ordered everyone to stay home.
Our world is in the midst of an unprecedented crisis. Things I’ve only ever seen pictures of in history books are now my daily concern. Take the empty grocery store shelves. Basics like bread and eggs are in short supply, and I had to swallow a lump of guilt as I took the last two packages of tortillas last week. Local businesses have shut their doors, many truly worried that they may never open them again. Office buildings sit empty, all the workers sent home. Our schools are closed. Our gyms are closed. Our churches are closed.
Meanwhile people on the other side of the world are dying terrifying deaths, alone, separated from their loved ones. And they say it’s only a matter of time before we see that here too. To open everything back up–to go on with life– would mean putting countless lives at significant risk. But to shut life down means many people will never recover from the severe economic repercussions of our current reality.
And so we find ourselves in Psalm 23, a shadowed valley with mountains of ruin on either side. There is no good choice. No right way to tackle a pandemic–everything has a consequence and everyone thinks they are right.
Even though I walk through the valley of death, I will fear no evil.
For those like myself, the irrepressible urge to help others is the worst part. I want to save every small business. I want to pray for every sick person, hand a cup of coffee to every exhausted medical worker, and make every weary trucker and grocery clerk a sandwich. Instead I slap on a smile and work hard to keep my own little people busy and entertained as we pass the time away. But deep down, my heart is breaking for the loss and hatred that is tearing our world apart.
How do we respond? What do we do when “shelter in place” is our only real option? I find myself looking to the ultimate shelter.
Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the LORD “He is my shelter and my refuge. My God in whom I trust.” Surely He will save you from the fowlers snare and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you will find rest. His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. Ps. 91:1-4
God does not promise that we will never suffer or live without times of dire uncertainty. He does not promise an easy, carefree existence. But He does promise life–abundant life–that no virus can take away. He provides a shelter that no state governor can match; a provision that makes a trillion dollar federal bailout look like a foolish joke. And He promises a salvation no human could ever acquire on their own.
To be fair, now is not a time for flinging Bible verses at scared or bitter people. It isn’t a time to pat friends on the back and say God’s going to make it all better.
But for those who follow Jesus, it is a time to genuinely trust–to go all in with our faith–and live in the abundance, prosperity, generosity, and healing that Jesus demonstrated to His followers. Because when God strips away every cure, every security, and every mortal attempt at hope, the only thing left to cling to is the everlasting promise that our King will return to rescue His Kingdom.
So hold fast, my friends, wherever you are. Have courage. Be kind. Shelter in Him.