Promise in Affliction
A few short days ago, I was sitting in an airport in Southeast Asia. With me was a missions team consisting of five 20-year-olds, my two co-team-leaders, their 3-year-old son, and their 8-month-old daughter. Each of us were wearing N95 respirator masks and sitting like statues, focusing all our attention on not accidentally grazing any of the thousand surfaces we would mindlessly touch on any other day - seats, railings, countertops, cash, water fountains, other people, our own faces. Despite avoiding contact with everything besides our own belongings, we frequently and liberally applied hand sanitizer from the bottles I had purchased for each of us.
In my motionless state, I contemplated the journey that lay ahead of us: We would take 3 airplane rides, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with people from an untold number of other countries. Those people would have been in contact with Lord-knows-how-many other people before sharing airplane air with us. We would stop in 4 international airports, each one forcing us to perform our bizarre, video-less version of the mannequin challenge. All of this would happen over the course of 25 hours, which would be filled with constant apprehension that any moment could be the moment that one of us contracts COVID-19.
As I appraised our situation, I was overwhelmed with one dreadful thought: That despite all my efforts to identify and address potential areas of risks for me and my team, I was ultimately powerless to guarantee health for any one of us. In the midst of a global pandemic, that is an overwhelming thought. When you’re traveling with five individuals whose safety and well-being you’re responsible for, along with two close friends and their very young children, that thought is near-paralyzing.
I was overwhelmed with my own smallness, and my inability to guarantee a “safe” outcome for me and those I care about. As COVID-19 casts its heavy shadow over the world in this season, many of us may find ourselves wrestling with similar feelings. For most of us, the risk of contracting the virus is low. But as NYS enters shutdown mode, there are more fears and uncertainties abounding than just those of the virus.
We fear that we may be laid off in the coming weeks (if we haven’t already), or we fear that we won’t be able to make end’s meet. We fear for family members in high-risk groups, or for our elderly relatives who are even more isolated than normal. For those struggling with mental illness, we fear what extended social isolation might do to the delicate balance we have worked so hard to maintain. Maybe most of all, we fear the unknown - How long will this shutdown last? What long-term effects will the virus and shutdown leave on the economy, society, the healthcare system, our kids’ college funds, and our own lives?
As I wrestled with my fears for my team in the airport, and even in recent days as I’ve wrestled with general uncertainties regarding COVID-19, I’ve heard God gently reminding me of two simple things - that He is good, and that I can count on His promises even in seasons like this.
In fact, perhaps His promises are more true, more reliable, and more meant for seasons like this than any other season of life. After all, most of God’s dearest promises were not given to those living in comfort and security, but to those in desperate situations. Jesus promises to give rest to our souls. But to whom does He make that offer? To those who are weary and heavy ladened (Matthew 11:28). God promises to give comfort to whom? Not to the joyful, but to those who are mourning (Matthew 5:4). And to whom does God extend the invitation to “taste and see” that He is good? Those who seek refuge in Him (Psalm 34:8).
Friend, if you are weary, heavy-ladened, mourning, or in need of a refuge today, then these promises are for you - ten times more than they are for those living at ease, those who are unburdened, and those who are protected on all sides. In Luke 5, we see Jesus’ words that, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I have not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance.” In the same way, I believe that God’s promises are not for the secure, but the vulnerable. These promises don’t benefit those who are already living in certainty, but are life-giving air for those drowning in uncertainty.
How do I know that I can count on God’s promises even in seasons like this? Because He gives us these promises precisely for seasons like this.
As we face our fears and dwell in uncertainty on a daily basis, let us trust that “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble” (Psalm 46:1). He is the God who comforts us - not in our good fortune - but in our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are also afflicted (2 Corinthians 1:4).