(This post comes from mbird.com. It was written by Ethan Richardson, staff member of Mockingbird Ministries. You can find the original post here.)
Our friend Robin Sloan, who was a part of our Future Issue, wrote an incredible little missive to his email subscribers, whom he lovingly and nerdily dubs the Society of the Double Dagger. Just like a lot of artists confined to home right now, heâs got a lot of ideas for the time at handâsupport local businesses, watch these great movies, take walks and say hello to neighborsâbut his main âinstructionâ was this: keep living.Â
It is possible that a number of your friends (and maybe even you) have become expert journalists in the field of epidemiology, economics, and infectious disease. (A running store here in town actually sent a coronavirus awareness email that gave specific numbers about how many millions of people they thought could die.) As Robin says, before COVID-19, they or you did not have these jobs, and they or you probably should not have them now:
Do you want every glorious weirdo youâve ever followed to morph into the same obsessive faux public health expert? YOU DO NOT!
So then he has this little provocation. He says that, in 1816, the âYear Without a Summer,â in which the entire Western world suffered from food shortages, a quarantined Mary Shelley did not teach herself systems engineering or meteorology, but instead began her work on Frankenstein.
Itâs moderately annoying when people invoke work like that, because it feels like the implication is, if youâre not writing Frankenstein what are you even DOING? Thatâs not what I mean. Itâs just that the big, bright examples help us see it clearly: toil in the shadow of calamity will have its dayâŚ
I should clarify: Iâm operating here on the assumption that you are doing everything you can to flatten the curve; that you have contacted your neighbors and offered your help (or asked for help, if you need it); that you are taking seriously your own health, physical and mental. If all those things are trueâif you feel sheltered and safeâthen and only then itâs possible that you are wondering: what now? Where do I direct my attention, of which there suddenly seems to be a surplus?
Thatâs the point at which I want to step in and say: direct it at the same thing you loved on the first day of this year. Then, crank up the intensity.
This isnât workism in the midst of calamity, nor is it Pollyanna ear-plugging. I think Robin is mostly talking about continuing to live, to spite calamity. If thereâs anything calamity teaches you, Robin is saying, it is that your life has always been a fragile and fractured gift. He quotes from a lecture C.S. Lewis gave to his students at Oxford in the midst of WWII. Just change out âthe warâ with âthe virus,â and you have a pretty fitting sermon here:Â
The war creates no absolutely new situation, it simply aggravates the permanent human situation so that we can no longer ignore it. Human life has always been lived on the edge of a precipice. Human culture has always had to exist under the shadow of something infinitely more important than itself. If men had postponed the search for knowledge and beauty until they were secure, the search would never have begun. We are mistaken when we compare war with ânormal life.â Life has never been normal.
While we are right to be afraid about the many precarious details further up the road, while we are right to be overwhelmed by the prospect of eight weeks (?) of home confinement (with or without children), while we will continue to hear from friends and family about the preparations theyâre making that we should make, too, our situation will also bring, I already know, a new spider sense for what illuminates our lives. Stay safe, yes. But look long at your babies, get your hands dirty between washes, call old friends, write some long letters, and pray. The giver of all good gifts goes before us and lives with us today.Â
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Prayer: Almighty God, help me to entrust my days and burdens into your hands. Donât let me be consumed with trying to control it all myself, but help me to dig in to the tasks set before me, to live in the moment you have given me right now, to rejoice in the blessings you so graciously send throughout the day, and to trust you in all matters, local or global. In Jesusâ name I pray, amen.
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For Further Reflection
Look up I Thessalonians 4:11-12. Why might Saint Paul be saying to work with your hands, mind your own business, and lead a quiet life?
How does it demonstrate trust in God to keep from fretting over uncertainties and just get on with the job at hand?
Why did God give us work? Is work good, bad, both, or neither? Why?
How can you serve others through your work? How can you encourage others to God as well?