"Going Further In" A Year Into A Global Pandemic

By Dr. Kevin Higgins

As you all know, March marked a year: 

A year since COVID became more than a vague new flu strain and created the havoc we have all experienced. And by "we all" I mean all we humans, around the globe.

I know I am just a microcosm of our organization, and I don't share these things by way of suggesting my experience is unique. In fact, the opposite, I am sharing because somehow at times like this, the single human experience that seems so individual is in fact nearly universal, and the specific becomes a window into the general.

I have had moments in prayer in which I felt invited by Jesus to share His heart for the staggering and still growing number of dying and grieving and permanently affected people all over the world. I sat together in Zoom with Pakistani and Bengali colleagues as they voiced their anger at COVID. I have worried for my daughter who, with her immune system already compromised due to another illness, works daily with the homeless. Currently, like countless others, I have a father who is in a severely deteriorating state of health, in the hospital, with no family able to visit.

And the list goes on, as does yours. As does our world's.

And yet.

And yet.

Like you, I have also experienced the profound and unsearchable goodness of the Lord.

Many aspects of our community life are in fact closer than ever. There is a more vital connection between WCIU and FV, between people in Pasadena and in other regions, between members and other employees, between our boards, between leaders of insider movements and other leaders and friends. I see my brother and sister addressing old issues, with each other and with my mom. 

And the list goes on, as does yours. As does our world's.

But a year?

Yes, we hear of glimpses of hope as vaccinations roll out or cases drop here and there (though today I heard of a much more virulent strain's impact on South Asia).

I have come to recall C.S Lewis' speculative comments about how the angels comforted Jesus in the Garden. He suggests that it may well have been that all they could say was "this must be done and thus can be done". Lewis called it comfort, cold comfort, but comfort.

I am not suggesting we are in anything like Gethsemane, don't misunderstand me!

But I came into 2021 with the posture internally that I needed to quit looking towards this or that estimate of when COVID would be over and things would go back to normal.

Instead, I have begun to tell myself, "until this isn't normal anymore, this is normal".

That enables me to just "do life". And by "this" I mean everything and anything to do with COVID and life.

"This is normal until it isn't."

Ok, so how to thrive in this?

Oddly, for me, thriving has come to me by a road that feels the opposite of what I would assume or indeed hope for.

My hope? 

That thriving would come from getting out, doing more, connecting again face to face. And yes, that is true, and there is life in those things, certainly.

But paradoxically perhaps, where I have found the most life-giving and sustaining springs of fresh water have been not in "getting out" but in "going in".

Further in.

What I mean is that more and more frequently I am experiencing in the quiet of the mornings the calm, still presence of Jesus. And in that calm Jesus is not so much reassuring me as he is re-forming me.

He has been digging deep, and in the darkness of the morning, shedding light on old and hidden places: defensiveness, secret pride, ancient fears, bone-deep soul bruises that need to be released, subtle but real self-centeredness and preoccupation.

And the list goes on (as does yours...as does the world's!).

But contrary to what you may think, this does not come with guilt, or shame, or regret. Instead, what I experience is tender mercy, pulling things away, healing, revealing.

That is not because of COVID of course. I neither credit nor blame COVID for my experiences. 

But I am grateful that in this year I have been given these things from a hand of healing.

And, may that become "the normal". And may it stay normal until, well, forever.