by Steve | May 18, 2020 | Magazine, Magazine Articles, March/April 2020
The Rev. Amanda Borchik visits with a young patient at Monroe Carell Jr. Children’s Hospital at Vanderbilt in Nashville, Tenn. Borchik is staff chaplain at the facility. Photo by Cayce Long.
By Jim Patterson –
Flexibility is key for United Methodist chaplains as they cope with families who can’t see their loved ones – sometimes even dying loved ones – because of the coronavirus that has killed thousands as it spreads around the world.
United Methodist chaplains in hospitals, retirement communities, and hospices are all navigating new ground, as the personal contact they count on to help comfort their charges is eliminated or severely cut back. Giving emotional and pastoral support is much more difficult under these conditions.
Heath screenings at facilities like Westminster Retirement Community in Winter Park, Florida, take time and senior management is not exempt, said the Rev. Jeffrey Parkkila, senior chaplain. “We’re temperature checked,” Parkkila said. “Anything over 99 (degrees) we’re not able to enter. … When I go home every night, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to return to work the next day.”
It’s part of a chaplain’s job to also be there for staff, in addition to patients and family members. “I’m trying to remain very focused on maintaining a standard of care that children and families would always receive here,” said the Rev. Amanda Borchik, staff chaplain at Monroe Carell Jr. Children’s Hospital at Vanderbilt in Nashville, Tennessee.
“And then also providing more care for our staff. … My congregation is nurses and doctors and respiratory therapists and physical therapists and social workers. Part of my job is to care for them.”
The trickiest question chaplains get in times like these is “Why?” “I think really faithful people have asked that question for a long time,” Borchik said. She noted that Jesus asked similar questions: “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” during his crucifixion and “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me” in the Garden of Gethsemane.
Borchik said that such questions are often a way of lamenting a bad or tragic situation. “The Psalms also do that,” she said. Psalms 44, 60, 74, 79, 80, 85, and 90 are laments of deep sorrow usually evoked following natural disasters, plague, or oppression by other nations.
“Sometimes asking a question is a way to say something we don’t know how to say,” Borchik said. “So I’ve learned to hear that question as part of our grief and learned how to say, ‘I don’t know. But I am here, and I’m really sorry, and I know that God grieves with us.’”
Eric Markinson, hospice chaplain at CC Young Senior Living community in Dallas, said it’s important to remind Christians that Jesus experienced life and death so “we would remember that life continues without end in God’s presence.”
“Now that life and death are so acutely, electrically present in people’s hearts, bodies, and minds, I think it’s an even clearer reminder,” he said. “So I think faith for me is incredibly healing.”
Jim Patterson is a reporter for UM News based in Nashville, Tennessee.
by Steve | May 18, 2020 | Magazine, Magazine Articles, May/June 2020
Photo by Kate Jayne.
By David F. Watson –
The year 1906 marked the publication of G.K. Chesterton’s poem, “O God of Earth And Altar.” It subsequently was put to haunting music and adapted as a hymn. Although it was written over a century ago, it is nevertheless a song for our times.
O God of earth and altar,
Bow down and hear our cry,
Our earthly rulers falter,
Our people drift and die;
The walls of gold entomb us,
The swords of scorn divide,
Take not thy thunder from us,
But take away our pride.
From all that terror teaches,
From lies of tongue and pen,
From all the easy speeches
That comfort cruel men,
From sale and profanation
Of honour and the sword,
From sleep and from damnation,
Deliver us, good Lord.
Tie in a living tether
The prince and priest and thrall,
Bind all our lives together,
Smite us and save us all;
In ire and exultation
Aflame with faith, and free,
Lift up a living nation,
A single sword to thee.
Chesterton’s poem is no upbeat ditty. It is a poem of penitence. We have sought comfort in the wrong ways, he says. We have sought solace in the wrong places. We have trusted in our flesh, sought to shape our lives in our own strength. The poem entreats God to teach us how to regard both the world and our Creator.
C. S. Lewis conveys the same idea more succinctly in The Great Divorce: “There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, ‘Thy will be done,’ and those to whom God says, in the end, ‘Thy will be done.’”
The question that both Chesterton and Lewis press is, “Who is really Lord of our lives?” We have the choice between self-will and submission to Christ. We can labor under the illusion that we are in control of our lives, or we can accept the fact that this world is marred by sin, and we are subject to sin and death. When we submit to the lordship of Jesus, God will overcome sin and death in our lives. When we insist on self-will, sin and death reign with ever greater authority. Self-will is a delusion, and only by submission to the one true Lord can we be free.
O God of earth and altar,
Bow down and hear our cry,
Our earthly rulers falter,
Our people drift and die.
The Perils of Pretense. Jesus is Lord. That is the earliest Christian confession, and it could be costly. Jesus is Lord, and he abides no rivals. Neither Zeus, Athena, Heracles, nor any other deity could be lord of any part of human life. Honor could not be lord. Wealth could not be lord. The Roman Emperor certainly had temporal power and made claims to divine lordship, but he could not really be lord, either. He simply had enough power and authority to act as a spectacular poseur.
The problem then, as it is now, was that it was just so easy to allow someone or something besides Jesus to lord over human life. The Parable of the Rich Fool (Luke 12:13-21) is often cast as a lesson about greed. To some extent this is true, though the parable is about more than money. It is about lordship. Note the setting of the parable. It follows an admonition to stand firm in the midst of opposition, even persecution (12:1-12). Jesus warns, “I tell you, whoever publicly acknowledges me before others, the Son of Man will also acknowledge before the angels of God. But whoever disowns me before others will be disowned before the angels of God” (12:8-9). Will you acknowledge Jesus as Lord, even when it is most difficult?
In the passages after the parable, Jesus encourages trust in God (12:22-34) and warns his listeners to be watchful, like dutiful servants awaiting their master’s return (12:35-47). He then prophesies that he will create division even in the midst of the family. “From now on there will be five in one family divided against each other, three against two and two against three. They will be divided, father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother, mother-in-law against daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law” (12:52-53). The family was where one found safety, security, and honor. To be disconnected from the family was to be cut off from the center of your world. Will you acknowledge Jesus as Lord, even when it costs you what you thought was most important?
The Parable of the Rich Fool, then, is one piece in a section dealing with trust in God and the lordship of Jesus. In a short parable Jesus puts the matter quite starkly (12:16-21): “The land of a rich man produced abundantly. And he thought to himself, ‘What should I do, for I have no place to store my crops?’ Then he said, ‘I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.’ But God said to him, ‘You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’ So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.”
There are things that are temporary, and there are things that are eternal. Wealth, possessions, honor, the acceptance of family and friends – all of these are temporary. The lordship of Jesus is eternal. The things of this world will fail you. Jesus will not. We may be tempted to exchange false gods for the true God, but our false gods cannot save us.
From sale and profanation
Of honour and the sword,
From sleep and from damnation,
Deliver us, good Lord.
Pandemics and Penitence. The COVID-19 pandemic has wrought devastation. Many have lost their jobs. Many have been isolated and lonely. Many have died. The cost has been tremendous. Someday we will look back upon this time and give thanks that it has passed. When we return to our churches, we will hug one another and shed tears. We will always remember those days when we could not leave our homes and worship together. Perhaps we will even recover a sense of the great privilege of public worship.
The pandemic has changed us. It has exposed the myth of our own lordship. There have been epidemics and pandemics throughout history, many far worse than we have experienced with COVID-19. In the Western world of the twenty-first century, however, we are not used to dealing with such massive disruption of our daily lives. We are not used to losing control so thoroughly. We live under the illusions of safety, security, and comfort. Occasionally these illusions are punctured. A bad diagnosis, a natural disaster such as a tornado, or an unexpected divorce can bring home for us very quickly how fickle, even cruel, life can be. They can show us how little control we actually have even of our own lives, much less the lives of those around us.
In this case, however, the myth of our own lordship has been obliterated for multitudes all at once. In the U.S., the economy was roaring. Unemployment was low. Retirement plans were high. Business was booming – until it wasn’t. A virus brought the world to its knees. Had you told me last last year that by March I would be confined to my house, that the building where I work would be closed for over a month, that I’d be unable to attend church or get a haircut or eat at my favorite restaurants or even meet with friends in my living room, I wouldn’t have believed you. Yet here we are.
God did not unleash the coronavirus on the world. This is no divine punishment or some cruel way of reminding us of our own finitude. Yet God can and will work through tragedy to bring redemption. The pandemic has stripped away many of our comforts. It has shattered our illusions of lordship. It has forced us to confront our human weakness. And now that we have been shorn of these illusions, perhaps we are better positioned to receive the one true Lord of our lives.
Revival is taking place all over the world today, but in the postmodern West it is occurring only in limited pockets. I have often suspected that this is primarily because of our unprecedented material prosperity. Perhaps we are simply too comfortable, and our comfort has become a narcotic, anesthetizing us to the pain and emptiness that attend our lives apart from a relationship with our Lord. Augustine wrote in prayer, “You have made us for Yourself, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You.” But what if we have learned to numb this restlessness, and thus arrest the impulse to seek the salvation for which Christ died? This may be the tragic, true story of Western Christendom, at least until now.
I wish this pandemic had never happened, but it has. Its effects have been heart-rending. What would make it more so, however, would be if we who follow Christ were to learn nothing from it. Perhaps in the midst of the pain that has accompanied COVID-19, we can begin to see ourselves more clearly, and thus turn our hearts to the only One who can make us whole. Minus the fog of false comfort, perhaps we will repent of our misguided loves and recommit ourselves to our Lord Jesus Christ.
The walls of gold entomb us,
The swords of scorn divide,
Take not thy thunder from us,
But take away our pride.
David F. Watson is professor of New Testament and the academic dean at United Theological Seminary in Dayton, Ohio. He is the author of Scripture and the Life of God (Seedbed).
by Steve | May 18, 2020 | Magazine, Magazine Articles, May/June 2020
Original art by Sam Wedelich (www.samwedelich.com).
By Elizabeth Glass Turner –
Sanctification is fun when it’s under our control.
Out of the corner of our eye, we have peripheral awareness of how close to being faith consumers we really are. We choose to go to a conference so we can grow spiritually. We choose to show up to Bible study so we can grow spiritually. We choose to read a book so we can cry or become more efficient or grow spiritually.
We choose.
We choose the parameters of our growth. Where we next discern/feel/think that God is leading us. What we will “give up” for Lent. The solution is perceived as whatever antidote to lukewarm faith fits the bill. I’m not sure the problem is lukewarm Christians, though. I think the problem is more the insidious mindset that is entangled in our approach to faith: that we set the table, invite the guests, and choose the menu of our own spiritual growth. That we’re in charge. That we can choose what outcomes we want to see in our spiritual life. That we control how we want to be made Christlike.
If you can choose what to give up for Lent, you’re living in a place of blissful abundance. Don’t take it for granted. Years back during Lent several areas of life imploded at once. In the wake of the economic collapse in 2008, there was a lot of scarcity, especially in certain areas of the country. My household was affected directly, and I remember writing a short reflection including the comment, “What do you give up for Lent when you’re already in a season of scarcity? What does fasting look like when the cupboards are pretty bare?” Lent had changed from practices I chose and controlled to something outside my control, and I didn’t like it.
God had allowed my chosen self-denial to be replaced with real desperation.
It was awful, and there’s no good way to spin or market it.
It hadn’t really occurred to me before what fasting sounded like to people who struggled to afford groceries, or who waited for their food stamps to be refilled. One day during that time — when the news was full of stories of foreclosures, whole subdivisions emptied, when the rust belt was contracting and people moved across the country away from their lifelong hometowns in order to find work — I came across a story of a humiliated woman who drove a luxury car to the food bank she used to donate to. In desperate tones she explained a paid-off, reliable vehicle was one of the only decent assets she had left and it didn’t make sense to trade it in for a cheaper but possibly less reliable car. But that meant that she was driving to the food bank in shiny German engineering.
Before the housing market crisis and Wall Street meltdown, if this woman had chosen to live on a strict budget, she would have been living in self-denial; it’s the removal of options that leads to desperation, no matter how well-resourced or well-connected you’re accustomed to being. Sometimes we instinctively recoil from people going through hard times, as if back in our minds is a hidden, primitive instinct to label tragedy or suffering “unclean.”
How did God let me learn about what Lent looks like when circumstances careen out of control? Several times over the years something would happen – why around Lent? – completely out of my control.
I’m trying to be pious and become Christlike, God. Why won’t you let me?!
In 2017, I had a completely unforeseeable health crisis and after misdiagnosis and falling asleep night after night praying I would wake up the next morning, eventually had emergency surgery and a painful recovery.
That’s a bit more “from dust you come, to dust you shall return” than I meant, God.
In 2018, my husband was stricken with a serious set of grave symptoms that left him on bedrest all winter. I joked that I was fasting from certainty. It wasn’t that much of a joke. Finally, he found relief in the spring.
Well, someday I’ll get back to a normal Lent.
In 2019, his symptoms returned and relief was elusive for over six months. Again, a Lent full of doctor appointments, insurance arguments, hours spent on hold, notes documenting symptoms scribbled down.
Will I ever get back to a normal Shrove Tuesday pancake supper?!
To proclaim that Jesus is Lord means this: I won’t always get to decide how or by what means I grow spiritually. What does the fruit of the Spirit look like when a doctor’s office receptionist is callous, flippant, or rude? What does it look like to be Christlike when you’re grieving lost opportunity due to difficult-to-diagnose chronic illness? What does joy look like when you realize your kids will be spending part of their spring break accompanying a parent to another physician appointment?
None of this fits on the brochure for “Christianity: Come Join Us! Really, It’s Not that Bad!”
I can’t guarantee you stability in this life. I can’t guarantee you won’t face tragedy. I can’t guarantee you won’t experience mind-numbing grief.
I can witness to the goodness of God, though.
I can, and will, bear witness to the power of Jesus Christ, the lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.
I can worship God from inside the blasting, scorching furnace, while evil asks, “Didn’t I put three people in there? I see a fourth man, and he looks like the Son of God.”
If I let go of the outcomes I hope for, I can grab onto the person of Jesus.
Jesus is Lord, and nothing in heaven or hell, nothing on earth or out past Pluto, no entity or circumstance can erase the goodness of God. Jesus is Lord and victory belongs to him even when I don’t get to choose the battle.
Please God, I’d like to go fight in that battle over there.
“This is what I have for you.”
I’m so much better over there, you gave me gifts for it! I’m sure that’s where you need me.
“I need you here.”
That doesn’t make sense.
“No, it just doesn’t make sense to you.”
It turns out getting up and responding to altar calls is pretty good practice for the much harder business of following Jesus in the dark.
There will be times you get to choose and pursue ways to grow spiritually. There will be times you are thrown into a whirlwind, into a vortex, and forced to respond.
In all things, Jesus is Lord, and nothing can force us to stop testifying to the goodness and power of Jesus Christ, whether we like our circumstances or not.
Elizabeth Glass Turner is the managing editor of Wesleyan Accent (wesleyanaccent.com). This article first appeared on ArtofHoliness.com.
by Steve | May 18, 2020 | Magazine, Magazine Articles, May/June 2020
Bishop Frank J. Beard writes: “Paul compares the Word to a soldier’s sword: ‘Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God’ (Ephesians 6:12). The writer of the book of Hebrews compares God’s word to a double-edged sword: ‘For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart’ (Hebrews 4:12).”
By Frank J. Beard –
Our world is under attack by a ruthless enemy – one that does not come from God. It is the job of every Christian and every church to unify and wage spiritual warfare against this destructive evil until it is defeated.
As I was praying the other morning and lamenting that there was not much we could do against this virus, I sensed in my spirit that as a spiritual leader I was taking the wrong approach. The Lord spoke very plainly to me, “Tell them about the weapons I have provided for them to use.” Like Moses, I argued, but even as I argued seven weapons came to mind.
Our current attack is from a vicious enemy whose primary purpose is death. As Christians we understand that this thief comes only to steal, kill, and destroy (John 10:10). He is a powerful destroyer, but we are not powerless against him or his vices.
God has given every believer an arsenal of weapons for the spiritual battles that we face. The one we serve is the “I AM” God (Exodus 3:14), the one whose very name means, “I will be what you need when you have need.”
The Apostle Paul reminds us in 2 Corinthians 10:3-4 that as followers of Christ we do not wage war as the world does. We have spiritual weapons because we are engaged in a spiritual battle. Our weapons are never directed at people. According to Paul, “Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms” (Ephesians 6:12).
Let’s take a brief look at seven weapons used in spiritual warfare.
1. Prayer, Praise, and Worship. In II Chronicles chapter 20, three enemy kings formed an alliance and declared war against King Jehoshaphat. The King turned to the Lord for help and encouraged the nation to fast and pray. The Spirit of the Lord came among them and God gave them this message: “Listen, King Jehoshaphat and all who live in Judah and Jerusalem! This is what the Lord says to you: ‘Do not be afraid or discouraged because of this vast army. For the battle is not yours, but God’s’” (II Chronicles 20:15).
Jehoshaphat assembled an army, but he did an amazingly unconventional thing. He placed the choir and the praise band out front! The power of prayer, praise, and worship was undeniable as the enemy army was routed without the King or his soldiers engaging in any physical fisticuffs.
2. The Word of God. Paul compares the Word to a soldier’s sword: “Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God” (Ephesians 6:12). The writer of the book of Hebrews compares God’s word to a double-edged sword: “For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart” (Hebrews 4:12).
3. The Name of Jesus. One of our strongest weapons is the name of Jesus. This name, supported by a personal relationship, is a powerful force the enemy recognizes and fears. “Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father” (Philippians 2:9-11).
The Bible tells us that, “The name of the LORD is a fortified tower; the righteous run to it and are safe” (Proverbs 18:10). Both the Old Testament and the New Testament are filled with verses that talk about the power in the name of the Lord. “David said to the Philistine, ‘You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the Lord Almighty, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied’” (I Samuel 17:45).
4. The Blood of Jesus. Because of the shed blood of Jesus, believers are redeemed, sanctified (set apart), cleansed, forgiven, and justified (brought into right relationship) in the presence of God. Christ’s blood grants us entrance into the very throne room of heaven where we are welcomed as children of God.
The blood of Christ provides victory over all our enemies. “They triumphed over him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony; they did not love their lives so much as to shrink from death” (Revelation 12:11).
5. Our Faith. Hebrews 11 highlights God’s hall of fame of men and women who, through their faith, accomplished seemingly impossible tasks.
Paul describes faith as a shield for believers. “In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one” (Hebrews 6:16).
The shield of faith protects us from the flaming darts of our enemy. Faith extinguishes the enemy’s fire and turns those sinister plans into blessings. Faith is a spiritual weapon that clears the way for us to receive God’s grace. Faith enables us to triumph over whatever the world throws at us. “… for everyone born of God overcomes the world. This is the victory that has overcome the world, even our faith” (I John 5:4).
6. Our Testimony. One of the last promises Jesus gave to his disciples was that they would receive, from the Holy Spirit, power to be effective witnesses. “But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8).
Jesus promised that their personal testimony would provide the evidence needed to spread the gospel message throughout the world. This power was promised for individual and corporate witnessing. Each personal testimony of the followers of Christ is a highly charged weapon connecting Christians to God’s grace and each other. Each testimony speaks of God’s presence and of the transforming power that defeats the enemy and inspires hope in the downtrodden.
7. Our Unity in Christ. We don’t often think of unity as a spiritual weapon, but it was one of the great prayers Jesus offered on behalf of his followers (John 17). It was also one of the keys that opened the door for the Holy Spirit to be poured out on the believers in Acts chapter two. As those early believers waited in obedience, and as they prayed together day-by-day, an atmosphere of unity was formed.
This tragic pandemic is an opportunity for the followers of Christ around the globe to unite and engage in spiritual warfare that will defeat and destroy the works of darkness. Each Christian, within their own unique context, will need to decide how God has called them to engage in this spiritual battle. Christian leaders will need to listen for the Lord’s voice (and nudging) to decide how best to rally, equip, and deploy the troops under their direction.
We dare not sit silently and idly by, wringing our hands and thinking that we are powerless against this pandemic. Jesus said about us, “You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house” (Matthew 5:14-15).
Now is the time to let your light shine for Jesus. People are searching for solutions and seeking answers to this pandemic. Believers are not powerless. We have been given weapons to assist in fighting against this evil. It is our job to stand up, stand out, and proclaim victory even before we see the end of the battle. Let us not shrink back or shy away because we don’t believe we can do anything.
Remember the story of Jehoshaphat. This battle belongs to the Lord. Ultimate victory does not excuse us from engaging and utilizing the weapons God has provided for us to use in defeating this pandemic. Perhaps God has strategically placed us “for such a time as this!”
Frank J. Beard is the Bishop of the Illinois Great Rivers Annual Conference of The United Methodist Church. This article is adapted from his blog.
by Steve | May 18, 2020 | Magazine, Magazine Articles, May/June 2020
Angela Gleaves, a nurse at Vanderbilt University Medical Center in Nashville, Tennessee, posted an uplifting photo on Facebook amid the coronavirus pandemic of her and four of her fellow nurses praying from the hospital’s helipad atop the building: “When you have a few extra minutes at work you take the time to go to the Helipad and pray. We prayed over the staff in our unit as well as all of the hospital employees. We also prayed over the patients and their families during this trying time. We also prayed for all of our colleagues around the world taking care of patients. It felt good to do this with some of my amazing co-workers. We could feel God’s presence in the wind. Know that you are all covered in prayer.”
By Beth Felker Jones –
There are so many losses right now. Vacations. Celebrations. Planned evenings with friends. Jobs. Mental health. Precious human beings.
As we live through a deadly pandemic, it is OK to feel the losses. It is OK to ache as carefully laid plans have to be put away. It is OK to grieve loved ones and economic hardships.
In these difficult times, there are three Christian principles to guide our thinking.
1. Creation is good. One of the most fundamental truths of Christian faith is this: creation is good. God made the world, God loves the world, and God has good purposes for the world. Just read the first chapter of Genesis and notice how many times the word good is used. All those things we care about? They matter. God cares too.
The early church rejected the false teaching known as Gnosticism. Gnosticism taught that spiritual reality is good, while material reality is evil. Against this, the church leaned on what scripture shows us about God as creator. Creation is not evil. God made it, God loves it, and God has good purposes for it.
Paul is talking about a Gnostic-like teaching when he writes against those who “forbid marriage and demand abstinence from foods” (1 Timothy 4:3). We know this instinct: the instinct to look at the delights of this world and turn up one’s nose, to try to be above the joys of feasts and warm human love.
Throughout the pandemic, I heard lots of rhetoric that spiritualized the faith and minimized the real human losses we were going through. But God’s revelation teaches us otherwise. God created feasts and flesh “to be received with thanksgiving … for everything created by God is good, and nothing is to be rejected, provided it is received with thanksgiving” (1 Timothy 4:3-4). God made these joys, God loves these joys, and we receive these joys with thanksgiving.
The joys of this life are precious. Friends laughing together is precious. Youth groups playing silly games together are precious. The chance to be together is precious.
And when we lose these things, it’s OK to say “ouch.”
Our God is the God who made this world and loves it. Our God is the God who cares about the intimate realities of our lives. And our God is the God who knows our grief. He’s carried it in his very flesh, in the body of Jesus.
2. We are bound together. In the midst of one of the most terrible plagues imaginable, Martin Luther wrote a pastoral letter in 1527 entitled “Whether one may flee from a deadly plague.” He reminds his readers of our obligations to one another. Pastors need to take care of their people. Those in public office need to take care of their cities. Parents need to care for their children. We’re not alone in this; “we are bound to each other in such a way that no one may forsake the other in his distress.”
Luther navigates a distinctively Christian way of dealing with the threat of death. Life is good, and it is to be protected. At the same time, death has been overcome in Jesus, and so it has no ultimate say over us.
If neighbor love, including self-love, means keeping safe, we keep safe, and when it means risking death, we risk it freely because we know that, in Christ, we have everlasting life. Luther’s confidence is in God. He reminds us to cling to God’s promises and to what Christ has done for us.
Neighbor love can mean risking everything, even death, by being physically present for others: Health care workers. Cleaning crews. Caregivers. Cashiers. Cooks. Warehouse workers. Delivery drivers. Pharmacists. Sanitation workers. Custodians. Government workers. People sweating it out to restock the grocery store shelves. And so many others. Luther would have us, “take courage in the fact that we are mutually bound together.”
After building people up for risky-neighbor love, Luther also has words for people who don’t take the plague seriously: “They are rash and reckless, tempting God and disregarding everything that might counteract death and the plague. They disdain the use of medicines, they do not avoid places and persons infected by the plague, but lightheartedly make sport of it and wish to prove how independent they are …. this is not trusting God but tempting him … such people behave as though a house were burning in the city and nobody were trying to put the fire out. Instead they give leeway to the flames so that the whole city is consumed … if some are so foolish as to not take precautions but aggravate the contagion, then the devil has a field day and many will die.”
Neighbor love can mean staying home, self-isolating to “flatten the curve.” Quarantine is what neighbor love looked
The statue of Julian of Norwich on the West Front of Norwich Cathedral, made by the sculptor David Holgate. Wikipedia Commons.
like for most of us. And that kind of neighbor love is also risky, painful, and self-sacrificial. There are those who did hard things to love their neighbors this way: Students. Teachers. Parents. Those who are alone and lonely.
With Luther, let’s speak back to the devil, who would terrorize us out of loving our neighbor as God would have us do: “Get away you devil with your terrors! …. If you can terrorize, Christ can strengthen me. If you can kill, Christ can give life. If you have poison in your fangs, Christ has far greater medicine. Should not my dear Christ, with his precepts, his kindness, and all his encouragement, be more important in my spirit than you roguish devil, with your false terrors in my weak flesh? God forbid. Get away devil! Here is Christ, and here am I, his servant in his work. Let Christ prevail.”
3. Rejoice and pray. “Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer” wrote Paul (Romans 12:2).
Julian of Norwich did her praying in the 14th and early 15th centuries. Her book, Revelations of Divine Love, is the first book of theology written by a woman in the English language. We don’t know her real name, but we call her Julian because it was the name of her church.
Julian lived two lives. The first was a life in the world: a life of household concerns and running into neighbors on the street. We don’t know for certain, but it’s likely she was married and had children.
The bubonic plague swept through the town of Norwich twice in Julian’s lifetime. The pandemic took a third of Europe’s population. It was terrifying in its contagiousness and efficiency, and because people didn’t know how it was transmitted, fear and misguided attempts at self-protection increased.
Then, Julian’s life in the world ended. Julian’s second life was lived as an anchoress. She was walled away from the world.
Admittedly, this will sound incredibly strange if you haven’t heard of it before. The life of an anchoress was a dedicated ministry to a church and a town. The anchoress (or anchorite, if a man) was walled into a cell, or anchor-hold, attached to a church.
Julian would have stepped into her cell, and then stone walls went up. She wouldn’t leave until her death. But this wasn’t a burial alive, and even though it was a life set apart, it was still a life for the world. In her little room, her anchor-hold, Julian would have had three windows: one to the street, one to the sanctuary, and one to care for her needs (food, laundry, books, and presumably the chamber pot).
Even though it was a life set apart, it was still a life for the world. Julian was there to pray in place. She stayed put in order to commit herself, body and soul, to prayer for those outside those windows. In 14th century Norwich, you couldn’t call your pastor or text a friend, but if you needed prayer, at any time, you knew where Julian would be, and you could talk to her through her window.
Imagine Julian. Perhaps she’s walking back and forth in her 9 foot by 11 foot anchor-hold. Perhaps she’s sewing. Perhaps she’s looking through her window towards the altar in the church. She’s praying. But is she feeling the warm presence of God? Is her face aglow with peace? Is she able to pray without her attention wandering? Maybe. But maybe not.
Julian writes that, when we pray, “frequently our trust is not complete, for we are not certain that God hears us … because we feel absolutely nothing (for we are frequently as barren and dry after our prayers as we were before).”
Reflecting on barrenness in prayer, Julian tells us that the Lord showed her something wonderful: “I am the ground of thy praying.” Prayer isn’t about us. It’s about God. In this, says Julian, “our good Lord shows a powerful encouragement.”
“It is not our praying that is the cause of the goodness and grace that He does for us, but God’s own characteristic goodness.” And she counsels us, “our good Lord wills that this be recognized by His lovers on earth, and the more that we recognize this, the more we shall pray.”
Paul wrote: “Pray in the Spirit at all times in every prayer and supplication. To that end keep alert and always persevere in supplication for all the saints” (Ephesians 6:18).
Julian encourages us to “pray inwardly, even though it seems to give thee no pleasure…” Pray, “though thou sensest nothing.” Pray, “thou thou seest nothing.” Pray, “though thou thinkest thou canst achieve nothing.” Julian wants us to find freedom and trust in knowing that God is the “ground of thy praying”
“Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:6-7).
In quarantine, we’re like Julian. We still have windows. Our prayers should be that God would help us turn to our windows and pray for the world. Maybe this time and space of being walled in can become an anchor-hold. Maybe we can find a new freedom for prayer. Maybe Julian’s experience can set us free from our own desperate efforts to get our prayers right. In the truth that prayer is about what God does and not about what we are doing, Julian finds comfort from “all our doubtful fears” (42).
We fear for our health and that of our loved ones. We’re tempted to put our own safety and security before that of others. We’re terrified of economic collapse. We know fear. We know terror. We know sleepless nights.
Julian’s world was crumbling, too. And yet, she turns us toward the cross of Christ. She tells us to look steadily at Jesus. She reminds us that He is with us and for us. She asks to see the abundance of Christ’s blood spilled for us.
Here’s her account of one of her visions of Jesus’s blood: “the abundance was like the drops of water that fall off the eaves of a house after a great shower of rain, which fall so thick that no man can number them … because of their roundness, the drops were like the scales of herring as they spread over the forehead … This showing was alive and active, and hideous and dreadful, and sweet and lovely. And of all the sights it was the most comfort to me that our God and Lord, who is so worthy of respect and so fearsome, is also so plain and gracious; and this filled me with delight and security of soul.”
Julian is not ignoring the turmoil of the world. She’s telling us where to look so that we can live in that world. Where the plague destroys, the blood of Jesus flows. Where some put their own safety over those who need them, Jesus draws near. Where violence threatens, Jesus is our refuge. Where human leaders would impose hierarchy, Julian saw the blood of Jesus flowing for all, making no distinctions between priest and sinner, rich and poor, healthy or sick. Where the church creates false obstacles between us and God, Julian saw that the blood of Jesus clears those barriers away. And where people were scared of bodies and blood, Julian offered the grace of God.
Jesus’s body, Jesus’s blood covers and heals. The blood of Jesus is his intimacy with us. It’s been poured out for us. It’s flowing freely in a world that seems to be crumbling. He is with us. He is for us. “For truly,” says Julian, “it is the most joy that can be, as I see it, that He who is highest and mightiest, noblest and worthiest, is also lowliest and meekest, most friendly and most gracious.”
Like Mother Julian, we are able to turn our eyes to the cross. “For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross” (Colossians 1:19-20).
When it seems our world is crumbling, we can remember that God’s goodness is sure. Where we ache, we can turn to him for solace. When we are terrified, we are reminded that Jesus cares for us – and that his blood is free for all.
Beth Felker Jones is associate professor of theology at Wheaton College. She is the author of several books including Practicing Christian Doctrine: An Introduction to Thinking and Living Theologically. This essay is adapted from Pandemic Prayers, a special Kindle devotional she wrote which is available on Amazon.
by Steve | May 18, 2020 | Magazine, Magazine Articles, May/June 2020
Students at Moscow Theological Seminary of The United Methodist Church have been leading online covenant groups for several years.
Pictured are, from left: Irina Rushkevich, Katerina Tokareva, Anna Klimina, and Natalya Zaitseva. Photo courtesy of Sergei Nikolaev.
By Sergei Nikolaev –
When self-isolation and mandatory quarantines became part of the social distancing required to hinder the spread of the coronavirus, students of the Moscow Theological Seminary of The United Methodist Church turned to their online covenant groups to maintain contact and fellowship.
These virtual gatherings, based on the original idea of John Wesley’s “bands,” were introduced to Moscow Seminary students by staff and laity of Mt. Pisgah United Methodist Church of Johns Creek in the North Georgia Conference. The existence and regular meetings of these groups allowed a seamless continuation of fellowship and spiritual disciplines, even during isolation.
The school has always had to deal with the problem of distance. The Eurasia Episcopal Area covers 11 time zones in Russia, with a territory of 7 million square miles. John Wesley famously declared, “The world is my parish,” and Eurasian Methodists like to say their bishop, Eduard Khegay, has the largest parish in the world.
In order to provide unity and connection between seminary students and to allow them to live and work in their hometowns, the seminary found creative solutions to deal with Eurasia’s vast distances.
One solution was to have students gather in Moscow four times a year for two weeks at a time. The rest of the year, students work on coursework, serve their local churches, and are employed locally in their native cities in Russia, Ukraine, Belarus, Kazakhstan, or Kyrgyzstan.
However, the fellowship classically provided in seminaries with a traditional academic model needed to be supported while the students were away from the seminary building. A model for such year-round fellowship emerged in 2015 through the Moscow Seminary-North Georgia Conference Mission Bridge in the form of covenant groups.
The model is for the covenant groups to meet weekly for about 90 minutes. The members of each group covenant to make the group a priority and to commit to a year. Each meeting starts with the classic Wesleyan question, “How is it with your soul?” Many groups use Wesley’s self-examination questions that he initially wrote for the “Holy Club.” They study the Bible to discern how it should be applied to their lives. Common prayers are an important part of the meeting, and personal spiritual growth goals are set for the next week.
“For me, the value of covenant groups is that we have the opportunity for mutual counseling, confession of sins, spiritual enrichment, and growth together with other brothers — some of whom are also ministers, who sometimes face similar challenges to me,” said Dr. Alexander Shevchenko, who is pastor of Luhansk United Methodist Church in Eastern Ukraine as well as a staff doctor at a rehabilitation facility. He is scheduled to graduate from the seminary in June.
Women meet with women and men meet with men to achieve an atmosphere of deep trust and security. They share the challenges they face in both their spiritual and personal lives. Confession in a confidential circle of trusted friends and a supportive prayer has a freeing effect.
“Many of women’s joys and the challenges of motherhood, marriage, beauty, and health can only be understood by women. The Skype Covenant Group creates a safe environment for that kind of openness and vulnerability,” said Elena Melnikova, the Moscow Seminary vice president for Development and Administration and a leader of one of the groups.
The seminary students are the first wave of leaders and members of covenant groups. Some students and seminary staff have recruited other pastors and church members outside of the student body.
After three years of such spiritual discipline, each Skype Covenant Group member is prepared to host her or his own group. Several students have already started their own covenant groups in their churches. Some of them typically meet in person, but with quarantine measures in place, they already have a proven model for meeting on Skype.
“The church and other organizations have only faced the need for online communication as the primary means of communication in the wake of the coronavirus infection. We have been praying and supporting each other online in our Skype Covenant Groups for a while,” said Shevchenko. “The value of this experience in the social distancing conditions due to coronavirus has increased dramatically.”
Although some groups had been meeting in person, the transition to Skype was not difficult.
“Of course, the coronavirus situation had a big impact on our group. Elderly people in the group don’t have the ability to Skype. Our initial thought was to announce a vacation, but then we decided to meet remotely via Skype anyway, those who can, and just pray for the rest (especially the elderly) at these meetings,” said Yelena Lyovushkina, a corporate attorney from Volgograd in South Russia and a second-year seminary student.
The Rev. Natalya Prokhorova, senior pastor of Samara United Methodist Church in Samara, Russia, said the requirement to stay home during the coronavirus allows more time for Skype Covenant Group meetings and “reflection on the Word.
“You don’t feel isolated only in your family. In our group we also pray for the healing of this disaster in our country and around the world,” Prokhorova said. She was recruited by one of the seminary staff for her group and then opened two groups in her church on her own.
Currently, there are over 30 covenant groups in Russia, Ukraine, Belarus, Kazakhstan, and Kyrgyzstan. Most of them meet on Skype. In the classic Wesleyan spirit of connection, they provide a model for spiritual growth and development even when Christians cannot meet together in person — whether due to distance under normal circumstances, or in extraordinary times requiring isolation and quarantines.
Today, in Russia and around the world, the coronavirus pandemic has provided a unique opportunity to look at the origins of the Wesleyan revival and to reimagine how its constitutive elements could provide a successful way into the future post-coronavirus world.
Sergei Nikolaev is president of the Moscow Theological Seminary of The United Methodist Church and an E. Stanley Jones Professor of Evangelism. To support the ministry of the Moscow Seminary please give to Advance # 12174A through your local church.
