Living with Grace in Anxious Times

While scrolling through social media recently, I saw a colleague I really respect get blasted by someone in their community. Publicly. That's just one example of some alarming abuse that's been happening lately. Here are some others:

• A pastor receives the agenda for an upcoming Council meeting and "Accomodating Pastor's children in worship" is an agenda item. 
• Online video worship services being critiqued for not being professional enough.
• Pastors observing recommended social distancing & strict visitation policies at local hospitals being criticized for not visiting members in person in the midst of a pandemic.
• Furloughed ministers being asked to continue providing pastoral care for the communities which are no longer paying for that care. 

These are times of high anxiety, fear, and grief. Anxious, scared, and grieving people are rarely capable of exhibiting their best behavior. Even when accounting for the current environment, however, it's disturbing to hear these stories of abuse from colleagues I know are doing everything they can to provide pastoral care to the communities to which God has called them.

In this time of uncertainty, change, and fear, we can present a counter-narrative of faith, endurance, and love. In fact, we already are. The situations I described above are all true, but they are the unfortunate exceptions. I've seen congregations shift to video worship services and graciously laugh about our lack of sophistication & polish. Several congregations have scheduled parades of members, driving past the houses where their ministers live and honking, waving, singing, doing something fun to tell their pastors and deacons they are loved and appreciated. Phone trees have been set up so that every member of a congregation gets a call from a fellow member at least once a week. How many of us have hosted a Zoom Bible Study or caught up with friends at a distance?

Learning one new skill requires a period of trial and error, of failing a little bit less each time until we build up the competency desired. Most of us will never be Tour de France-level bicyclists, but almost all of us learned to ride a bike at some point in our childhood, right? We learned how to ride by falling down until we didn't, until that crazy balance clicked in our minds and bodies. We developed that competency over time, usually in private, and eventually we were able to not even think about how to ride a bike - we just hopped on the seat and took off.

This global pandemic has stripped away most of our former competencies and left us all juggling job and family requirements that were unthinkable less than six months ago. In a sense, we've all been told we can no longer walk, or even ride a bike: everything is on a unicycle now, everyone has to do it, and it all has to be done where everyone can see. We're building new competencies in every aspect of our life and work, all at once. We are falling down - regularly, often, and publicly. It's a painful time to be a person.

This is a time for grace if ever the was one. This should be our primary language in the church, but we've adapted so well to the cultural language of performance and production that grace is an unfamiliar dialect - it sounds familiar, but it'll take some time to be fluent in it again. This is a time for grace with ourselves. This is a time for grace with the limitations imposed on us by this pandemic we cannot control. This is a time for grace with our families and housemates who grow every more wearying and annoying with each passing interminable day of social distancing. This is a time for grace with co-workers who still don't know how to mute video conference calls or don't have a private spot where kids or spouses won't pop into the background. This is a time for grace with Council members who are insensitive or even absent because they're worried about losing their jobs. This is a time for grace with all of this and more. 

We once believed grace was easy, right? Here in the American midwest we are particularly good at the sort of grace that left room for grudges while presenting an outwardly peaceful countenance - the sort of thing Dietrich Bonhoeffer called 'cheap grace.' Now we're discovering how difficult the actual practice of grace can be, and also how essential it will be moving forward in a world which will long remember how we responded in this hour of pandemic. Faith, endurance, and love - this is how we live with grace in anxious times. May God's Holy Spirit fill you with this grace, and may it flow through you into the world around you, now and always.