The pandemic threw us all out of our routines. Try though we may, our family has struggled to re-establish the weekly patterns we held dear before masks, social distancing, and home antigen tests became part of our daily lives
What do we do when we, as a congregation, as a community, as a world, are truly exhausted and need the rest Jesus promises? Is that space still in the sanctuary? Or are we meant to seek peace away from our community as we heal?
I typically welcome the shorter days that accompany the season of Advent. Less daylight should theoretically translate to fewer distractions and more snuggling on the couch, under fleece blankets with warm cups in hand.
We are waiting, as a family, as a community, as the Body of Christ, in palpable anticipation for the end of this pandemic.
Every other pew was roped off, complete with red ribbon. My daughters looked back at me, a little confused. Were we allowed to be close to our friends and neighbors?
With each new day, the weight of the world seems to rest on our shoulders. There is new hope, but with it comes fresh exhaustion.
My breath quickens when I hear “do less” each Advent. As my heart starts to race, I think, “There’s no way that’s what they really mean!”
As we survey the world around us, where is Jesus? Where is our Savior in the midst of rising pandemic deaths and ruthless injustice for our neighbors?
For the past eight weeks, my home base has been designated the Special Pathogens Unit of the hospital, which delivers vital care for hospitalized patients infected with COVID-19.
Growing up, I remember the season of Lent as one of reflection and contemplation. Somewhere in young adulthood, the season lost its peacefulness for me.