lent, dust and a pandemic
The significance of the coronavirus outbreak at the time of Lent is not lost on me. I have been thinking a lot about the profound resonance between both these seasons (viral, liturgical) and wrestling through the weight of their concurrence. To be clear: I am not one to believe that God would impose a global pandemic for the sake of "teaching us something" -but I do think that, whenever we find ourselves in the face of uncertainty and suffering in this fallen world, He makes Himself known to us, inviting us to rest in Him. He bids us to draw from the depths of His love, to find our hope in Him, to trust in His faithfulness, and to declare His excellencies and goodness as the One who saves us from darkness and leads us to light.
So, without further ado, my Lenten reflections in these days of COVID-19...
For those who are not familiar with it, Lent is a 40 day period leading up to Easter in the liturgical calendar. It is a season wherein the Church partakes in practices of fasting and self-denial to identify with Christ's sufferings, grieve personal and global sin, and redirect their thoughts toward the necessity of the cross. I have been observing it more seriously in recent years, and have come to find it to encourage me tremendously in the walk of faith.
As suggested in this post, I had many, many ideas about the way I hoped Lent would look this year. At the time, I naively didn't think much of the coronavirus (which, in itself, is a testament to my navel-gazing tendencies). And, in what seemed to be a mere blink, schools and businesses closed, our Prime Minister's wife tested positive, loved ones were laid off and friends scrambled to cancel weddings or fly home from abroad. Too swiftly, self-isolation began and life as we knew it changed.
In many ways, my actual practice of Lent has been left unscathed by the pandemic. I am still fasting, still listening to hymns, still anticipating Christ's Easter victory.
Yet, the virus has somehow made Lent all the more tangible to me this time. After all (tongue-in-cheek here), we've had to "give up" much more than sweets or social media this Lenten season, by being imposed this fast of human touch and interaction too.
Humor aside, the experience of Lent in tandem with a global pandemic has struck me deeply. More than ever before, I have grasped the world's brokenness and its need for Christ's conquering of death and anticipated return.
1. From dust to dust
The coronavirus has forcefully caused us to face the fragility and weakness and finitude of our bodies. In these strange days-turned-weeks, the things of sickness and death have been brought to the very forefront of our minds. Our condition as humans bent toward sin has felt ever so flagrant through such realities as hoarding, racism, false promises, lies, tribalism, and unbelief. COVID-19, in a hundred different ways, has highlighted the fallenness of our world and its need for a Savior.
And I think: does Lent not beg us to make the same reflections?
Again and again, I have thought to myself, This suffering and loneliness and morbidity are not the way it is supposed to be. And it isn't. A world soiled by virus and scarcity were not God's original design. Today's sobering ache, aggravated by news reports and loved ones' updates, is not of Genesis 1 or 2, but of Genesis 3. Indeed, since the Fall, the land we till and the air we breathe has cried out for shalom -for the completeness, soundness, harmony and peace of Eden's garden. The coronavirus outbreak illustrates just that.
Like the self-deprivation practiced during Lent, COVID-19 has brought to mind the fateful words of Genesis 3:19:
"[...] for you are dust, and to dust you shall return."
Yes, both Lent and this pandemic remind us of the inescapable truth that we know deep in our bones: we are but dust.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust - this is the foreordained path we walk in this world obscured by death.
But that's not the end of the story now, is it?
2. Our dependence on Christ
The sweetness of Lent is that, ultimately, it points us to our need for Christ -our utter reliance on His gospel of grace. In contemplating our weakness and frailties, we are gently reminded that He alone supreme and sufficient, and that we depend on Him. He descended into the mess and darkness of this earth to overcome them - and His work of redeeming all things will be brought to completion on the day He returns (Philippians 1:6).
Because of this, I am no slave to fear. Glory be, the curse is broken and death has lost its sting - our God reigns!
So, as Lent culminates in the resurrection promise, so too should this pandemic. We may find comfort in knowing that all shall be well (thanks, Julian!), and that God is still on the throne. And we also may find comfort in knowing that Christ will come again -and that all grief and death will be swallowed up in His ultimate victory.
3. He will make all things new
You and I are not yet home; our true Home is yet to come. When Jesus comes again, He will inaugurate His new creation -a new heaven and a new earth (Revelation 21). In this Home, there will be no sickness, no isolation, no lack, and no mortality. In this Home, the goodness of creation will be fulfilled -completed! -by Christ.
"For here we have no lasting city, but we seek the city that is to come..." (Hebrews 13:14)
We will face trouble in this world (John 16:33). We ought not to make the mistake of thinking that brutal suffering won't befall us: after all, the Son of God's life was met with brutal suffering from his first to his last breath. And while He does provide salvation for our sinful condition, He doesn't save us from all the pain and death of this world (remember, He didn't even save Himself!). But He is with us, and for us. And we can together cry, "Come Again Lord Jesus, Come!"
The Christian straddles the tension of what is and what will come. We grieve the dolor of this broken Earth whilst finding rest in the nearness of Christ, our Healer and Savior.
As Lent and this pandemic continue, I will continue to live out this hopeful mourning.
Yet, the virus has somehow made Lent all the more tangible to me this time. After all (tongue-in-cheek here), we've had to "give up" much more than sweets or social media this Lenten season, by being imposed this fast of human touch and interaction too.
Humor aside, the experience of Lent in tandem with a global pandemic has struck me deeply. More than ever before, I have grasped the world's brokenness and its need for Christ's conquering of death and anticipated return.
1. From dust to dust
The coronavirus has forcefully caused us to face the fragility and weakness and finitude of our bodies. In these strange days-turned-weeks, the things of sickness and death have been brought to the very forefront of our minds. Our condition as humans bent toward sin has felt ever so flagrant through such realities as hoarding, racism, false promises, lies, tribalism, and unbelief. COVID-19, in a hundred different ways, has highlighted the fallenness of our world and its need for a Savior.
And I think: does Lent not beg us to make the same reflections?
Again and again, I have thought to myself, This suffering and loneliness and morbidity are not the way it is supposed to be. And it isn't. A world soiled by virus and scarcity were not God's original design. Today's sobering ache, aggravated by news reports and loved ones' updates, is not of Genesis 1 or 2, but of Genesis 3. Indeed, since the Fall, the land we till and the air we breathe has cried out for shalom -for the completeness, soundness, harmony and peace of Eden's garden. The coronavirus outbreak illustrates just that.
Like the self-deprivation practiced during Lent, COVID-19 has brought to mind the fateful words of Genesis 3:19:
"[...] for you are dust, and to dust you shall return."
Yes, both Lent and this pandemic remind us of the inescapable truth that we know deep in our bones: we are but dust.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust - this is the foreordained path we walk in this world obscured by death.
But that's not the end of the story now, is it?
2. Our dependence on Christ
The sweetness of Lent is that, ultimately, it points us to our need for Christ -our utter reliance on His gospel of grace. In contemplating our weakness and frailties, we are gently reminded that He alone supreme and sufficient, and that we depend on Him. He descended into the mess and darkness of this earth to overcome them - and His work of redeeming all things will be brought to completion on the day He returns (Philippians 1:6).
Because of this, I am no slave to fear. Glory be, the curse is broken and death has lost its sting - our God reigns!
So, as Lent culminates in the resurrection promise, so too should this pandemic. We may find comfort in knowing that all shall be well (thanks, Julian!), and that God is still on the throne. And we also may find comfort in knowing that Christ will come again -and that all grief and death will be swallowed up in His ultimate victory.
3. He will make all things new
You and I are not yet home; our true Home is yet to come. When Jesus comes again, He will inaugurate His new creation -a new heaven and a new earth (Revelation 21). In this Home, there will be no sickness, no isolation, no lack, and no mortality. In this Home, the goodness of creation will be fulfilled -completed! -by Christ.
"For here we have no lasting city, but we seek the city that is to come..." (Hebrews 13:14)
We will face trouble in this world (John 16:33). We ought not to make the mistake of thinking that brutal suffering won't befall us: after all, the Son of God's life was met with brutal suffering from his first to his last breath. And while He does provide salvation for our sinful condition, He doesn't save us from all the pain and death of this world (remember, He didn't even save Himself!). But He is with us, and for us. And we can together cry, "Come Again Lord Jesus, Come!"
The Christian straddles the tension of what is and what will come. We grieve the dolor of this broken Earth whilst finding rest in the nearness of Christ, our Healer and Savior.
As Lent and this pandemic continue, I will continue to live out this hopeful mourning.
Together, as we stumble along the well-worn path of lament, may we be encouraged: our God is in the business of making all things new -even we people of dust.
This song has been a great comfort to me these days. What powerful promises to cling to in these days of anguish.
---
This song has been a great comfort to me these days. What powerful promises to cling to in these days of anguish.
Eternal Weight of Glory
by Wendell Kimbrough
Now the days and hours and moments
Of our suff'ring seem so long;
And the toilsome wait and wond'ring
Threaten silence to our song.
Now our pain is real and pressing
Where our faith is thin and weak,
But our hope is set on Jesus;
And we cling to him, our strength.
Oh eternal weight of glory!
Oh inheritance divine!
We will see our Lord redeeming
Every past and future time.
All our pains will be transfigured,
Like the scars of Christ our Lord.
We will see the weight of glory,
And our broken years restored.
Chorus:
For behold! I tell a myst'ry:
At the trumpet sound we'll wake
"Death is swallowed up in vict'ry!"
When we meet our King of Grace
Every years we thought was wasted
Every night we cried "How long?"
All will be a passing moment
In our Savior's vict'ry song
We will see our wounded Savior.
We'll behold him face to face;
And we'll hear our anguished stories
Sung as vict'ry songs of grace.
Now the days and hours and moments
Of our suff'ring seem so long;
And the toilsome wait and wond'ring
Threaten silence to our song.
Now our pain is real and pressing
Where our faith is thin and weak,
But our hope is set on Jesus;
And we cling to him, our strength.
Oh eternal weight of glory!
Oh inheritance divine!
We will see our Lord redeeming
Every past and future time.
All our pains will be transfigured,
Like the scars of Christ our Lord.
We will see the weight of glory,
And our broken years restored.
Chorus:
For behold! I tell a myst'ry:
At the trumpet sound we'll wake
"Death is swallowed up in vict'ry!"
When we meet our King of Grace
Every years we thought was wasted
Every night we cried "How long?"
All will be a passing moment
In our Savior's vict'ry song
We will see our wounded Savior.
We'll behold him face to face;
And we'll hear our anguished stories
Sung as vict'ry songs of grace.
© 2015 Wendell Kimbrough
Comments