The door is shut. No, I am not recalling a line from Lord of the Rings, though it is a good scene. I am quite literally stating that our door is shut. Monday afternoon, following an excursion for medications and some final groceries, we returned home to settle in while we wait. There is plenty to do, but most of it will be done from inside. As we put the final stores into the refrigerator and pantry, my wife commented, “The door is shut… just like on the ark.” We laughed, and now it is a household joke. We are sealed in to wait out our time until things are restored.
I love how God uses seemingly insignificant things to give revelation. While we are laughing about our inside joke, I am pondering what the story of the flood says to our current situation. No, I am not suggesting that God is executing judgement with a virus, or that we are all doomed in some way. I am pondering isolation – waiting alone for the storm to abate.
Forty days locked in a ship with your family and a bunch of animals has its challenges, and waiting while the storm rages around you is intimidating. As we are isolated with our families, looking on while the storm moves across our country and around the world, the challenges and concerned thoughts are very real. We do not all express our feelings the same way, but the issues are there.
This afternoon, I watched an interview with a man who is in quarantine after testing positive for COVID-19. One of his earliest statements was a response to friends and family asking why he put himself at risk. He said, “I mean, we have to live our lives, right?” While I cannot know for sure what his motives were, I am not easily convinced it was selfishness or irresponsibility. I felt him expressing the deeper call of a heart desperate to avoid isolation from life. The irony is his choices ultimately isolated him until he recovers.
No one wants to be alone. No one wants to be left out. We may cherish a few days apart, and some precious quiet time, but when that begins to move from personal time to isolation, it creates an entirely different emotion. The Bible doesn’t say much about Noah’s emotions, or the feelings of his family. It is easy to view them with a sacred lens that makes them quite different from us, but the witness of the Scripture is that even the most heroic figures experienced life much as we do. When the door closes, there is room for laughter. Weeks later, we feel the separation.
Last night, I hosted a Facebook Live hour to connect with our church family. It was riddled with tech issues. I might have complicated my efforts by attempting to use too much technology. I saw the flaws and I wondered if it made any difference. As we closed our time together, several people mentioned how much it meant to them; how much they needed it. This is not applause for me, but an affirmation of the value of community. The simplest expression of connection makes a significant difference to someone who feels alone.
Many people feel like the doors are shut. This time of social distancing only sheds light on a daily struggle of separation. Currently, we are concerned about those who are alone and afraid. We want to be sure no one is left out. We may want to use this time to ponder if we have the same concerns when it’s an ordinary Thursday. All around us people go without, without food, shelter, clothing, and community. There is always a need for connection.
Sheltering in place will pass. Soon we will return to life beyond our homes. Maybe, if we are sensitive to the Spirit, we will be better prepared to open our doors, and to help others know it is safe to open theirs. Maybe this lenten sacrifice will produce a harvest of compassion and community. Together, let’s pray that it does.
