Liberation is Well-Being That's Tied Together

Remember when we thought the pandemic was just going to be a couple weeks? We’d hunker down for maybe a month at most and then go back to normal with a strange story to tell our grandkids? In those early days, we didn’t really know what was safe and what was dangerous or what to expect, but we thought surely we were capable of solving our way out of it expeditiously. There was  chaos and fear, hoarding and uncertainty ...so we coped with Tiger King,  bread-making, and

We thought....surely we’ll be out of this by Easter...Summer? This world is wild and gut-wrenching but we can get through if we know it’s just for a little bit longer. And then each spot on the horizon we’d consciously or unconsciously pinned our hopes to would pass by, another event we were looking forward to was canceled, the ways we would normally gather and grieve were cut off from us. So the ways we coped began to change too. 

When did you recognize this would be a bigger, long-term undertaking? 

What was it that turned you toward thinking this way?

What shifted in you, what changed in your habits and your being as a result?

Somewhere along the way we began to ask different kinds of questions. When so much of what shaped our lives is stripped away, we had to decipher what pieces were most important out of what was left. When our emotions and energy are running on limited capacity, if not totally fried, what’s worth our attention? When more isn’t an option, how do we engage the rich meaning of what is already here? For at least a moment, there seemed to be a recognition that we were all in this together, so we began to wonder...how do we support one another to get through this together? How do we care for one another in practice?

At first, we couldn’t imagine that this world-altering upheaval could last for years. Sure, there were some fringe voices warning of just that but surely they were just worst-case scenarios and doomsday fanatics. We couldn’t imagine how much further we would unravel as people. We certainly couldn’t imagine finding ways to make life feel normal within this strange land. In some ways it felt like doing so would be a slap in the face to what used to be. But we did, we still are. 

The more we can acknowledge this experience is going to be longer than our initial hopes, the better able we are in adapting our lives to be less anxious and miserable and more balanced and manageable and even...possibly...life-giving in a new kind of way. Don’t get me wrong, anxiety and despair are still there in the corners, still lurking underneath every disappointment and cold rainy day, but...perhaps the scope that we’re in this for more than today and tomorrow, reminds us to be more tender and more generous with ourselves and others. When we can acknowledge that uncertainty and discomfort are part of the landscape, we can let go of our hyper-focus on fixing those things. We can begin to learn how to live alongside and amidst an unprecedented world where God is with us.

The prophet Jeremiah has the difficult task of relaying to the people that the overly-optimistic messages that others gave them were hollow. This time of exile, of disruption, and of overarching conflict will be their reality for a long time. But their life is not over and their care is not worthless. God is still woven among them, even here, and perhaps even now, weaving new possibilities in and through this messy world. 

Jeremiah invites them to be open to God’s leading, even in this time they’d rather hurry through, in this place that seems anything but holy, and among these people that are not like them and even with whom they are in conflict.

The prophet tells them to settle in, but not just to hunker down. This season of waiting is not the same as a time to stall or avoid. This, says the messenger of God, is a time to till up the soil the gardens that will feed you. Here, right where you are, is a place to create spaces that keep you safe and well and bring you joy. This is the season to nurture relationships that last and which echo into more life-giving relationships. This time to linger does not mean emptiness. In fact, it is an invitation to discover new depths of meaning among who and what is already here. 

God says that Their presence and movement will be known in the ways God’s people are aware and attentive to God’s indwelling promise and their interwoven nature - when they seek not only their own well-being, but will come to know that their well-being is tied to the well-being of the people and places beyond and even against them. 

Liberation is coming, but it will be the long-form version. That changes the way we wait. It reframes waiting beyond twiddling thumbs and passing the time, but finding ways in liminal spaces to continue being who we are created to be - caring, communal, generous. Practicing these divine promises of who we are in the day to day rhythms of life - as we bump into folks on the sidewalk; as we pick which stores to shop from and who we invite to hang out; as we learn stories and traditions and truths that may challenge our own; or when the customer service rep on the phone can’t solve all the dilemmas the babylonian empire of capitalism created.

I wonder what the day to day dynamics are like. I wonder if all that pent-up pain of untended uncertainty finally explodes when someone goes to the market looking for that one special ingredient they need to bake their grandmother’s recipe they remember from childhoods in Jerusalem and it’s not there and now they’re screaming at some clerk who happened to be filling the shelves nearby. But this merchant sweeping dust bunnies off of scuffed up floors didn’t ransack Jerusalem, King Nebucanezzer did that.  

I wonder if, at constant close range, sharing in the mundane realities of life, close enough to see last night’s makeup smudged under our neighbor’s eyes and hear their rich laughter at their own corny joke...God shows up as the humanity we’d rather avoid in ourselves and in others. I wonder if this is part of the liberation too, slowly investing in people and places long enough and thoroughly enough to recognize that they’re human too - daughters, friends, neighbors...and not just enemies. That we can be human alongside and among each other, together. That God is among the messy relationships and the shared being that seems counterintuitive. Perhaps this disorienting time is for opening ourselves to the possibility of holiness in being connected even to the people we didn’t choose to be around, even those who have broken our hearts, even ourselves when we feel lost.

I wonder...What is God calling you to be open to tonight? What is God inviting you to be open to In this season of life you’re in? What is God opening up among  you and the people that make up your community?