At the End of the If

I left my house today. It was just for an hour and just for a quick two-minute drive to my husband’s empty office at our empty church building so I could have a quiet conversation with a podcaster via Zoom. But, it was odd to leave, even after just a few days of social distancing. I put on makeup and fixed my hair in case the recorded conversation included video. (It did.) The gas gauge in my van hasn’t changed since Sunday. How many weeks will pass before I actually need to stop at a fuel station?

My days at home have been filled with a few attempts at homeschooling my kids, plowing through a book I’m reading to them, cooking three meals a day for my whole family, trying (and failing) not to lean too hard on the Xbox as a babysitter so I can squeeze in some work for upcoming deadlines. It’s not been unpleasant, but I have felt extra tired these last few nights. I’ve had a lot of trouble sleeping, or well—staying asleep. I fall asleep quickly but wake up multiple times a night with an inexplicable feeling of uncertainty, a free-fall in my mind with no landing place at the end. My brain jumps between what-ifs and how-longs. And what’s unsettling is that it’s not just me that doesn’t have the answer to my questions. Nobody does. I think we all feel the pinch of stress in our throats. Tired but unable to rest. The newness of what’s happening to all of us hasn’t really worn off.

Yesterday I felt all sorts of twisted up inside, so I opened my Bible and settled my soul around Romans 8. Paul talks about all the things that seem like they might wedge themselves between us and Jesus: tribulation, distress, persecution, famine, nakedness, danger, the sword. Some of those things are adjacent to a pandemic. Paul’s words hold true for us now. I cannot guarantee that your body or mine will remain untouched by the virus, but if you are in Christ, I can guarantee that your soul is safe in Him. Read these words from Paul:

“For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans. 8:38-39)

I look at the canceled speaking engagements for the spring on my calendar and try not to think about my bank account. I look at my husband’s insulin supply every time I open the fridge and wonder if the meds that keep him alive will be harder to come by next month. I think about all the testing we were in the middle of with my son’s learning disability at school and wonder how I’m going to keep him from falling behind. I log into our church’s discipleship meeting via an app and try not to cry at how much I already miss my church family.

You probably have a list of worries like this. My mom always advises me to follow my what-if worries to their logical end and to find the truth on the other side. Whatever the fear is, it can’t come between me and Jesus’ love. If the bank account bottoms out, if the insulin runs low, if the kids don’t learn anything new, if months go by without a hug from a church member, if we contract the virus, if, if, if—well, at the end of every if is still Jesus and his enduring, faithful love for us. If the end of the if is death for the Christian, that still isn’t the end. That’s the beginning of eternity with Christ.

And if that doesn’t feel comforting today, I get it. If you woke up this morning feeling all kinds of twisted up inside, maybe you need what I need. Maybe you need to settle your soul around Romans 8 and the reminder that a virus and all the complications it carries in its pockets can’t wedge itself between you and Christ.

What I need right now in these days of isolation and wagon-circling is to feed my faith with what’s true. More than I need to check the daily number of COVID cases in my state, I need to bolster my faith with the goodness of God. It’s likely you do, too. While you’re feeding you family and trying to fill the empty days with activities and work, you’re not alone in this. We’re all here learning anew what it is to lean on the Rock that is higher than us.

Hear my cry, O God, listen to my prayer; from the end f the earth I call to you when my heart is faint. Lead me to the rock that is higher than I, for you have been my refuge, and strong tower against the enemy. (Psalm 61: 1-3)

 

I cannot guarantee that your body or mine will remain untouched by the virus, but if you are in Christ, I can guarantee that your soul is safe in Him. Share on X

Photo by Caleb George on Unsplash