God Knows You.

I think the most perilous aspect of living in a Covid-19 world is two pronged; on one end, we bear the loss of those affected by the disease. On the other, we bear the loss of connection that we once took for granted.

"Collective trauma" is a term that I've heard over and over again in the last year and a half, and I have to admit that it's fitting. We are all suffering, have all suffered, and all now sit in the dark, waiting for what comes next. There will never be a "Before" world, again. We live in history, and it is being written in the present.

Living in the "After" has meant living with that sense of disconnection. It's been challenging, to say the least, to navigate how to engage with people when our options have become so limited. Virtual connection matters, but it isn't a comparable substitute for genuinely getting to hug your parents/grandparents, or eat out in a restaurant with friends.

Maya Angelou once said, "Hope and fear cannot occupy the same space. Invite one to stay." And yet here we are: proving that while we hope for a better tomorrow, fear gnaws at us, questioning the validity of hope. There is a collective tension that is pulling between all of us, and it's demanding to be felt. We sit in the crux of hope and fear, and while we all are sitting together, there's never been a more lonely place to be.

How do we deal with this? Well, first, I think it's not about trying to distract ourselves from feeling the way we do. To suggest that we just "move on" or flip some internal switch and be happy and content is not reality. Real life is hard, sometimes. And it's good to acknowledge the pain that comes with hardship, because pain is refining. When life is hard, it hurts. When we suffer loss, we don't want to be happy. And that's OK.

But I want you to hear this: Hope and fear can and does coexist -- the Bible tells us this.

"The eye of the Lord is on those who fear Him, on those who hope in His steadfast love..." (Ps. 33:18). Your pain may be keeping you in that awkward place of hopeful fear, but I wonder what would happen if we could try to channel that pain into fearing the Lord, and hoping that He still loves us. That He is still good, despite the pain. That He can restore us, make beauty for ashes. God's eye is on us, always. But He pays attention particularly when we exist in this crux more than others.

Fearing the Lord rather than fearing our circumstances is no easy task because our circumstances demand our attention, whereas God no longer physically walks or talks amongst us. But what would happen if we changed our focus? What if we tried to practice this fear of His greatness, fearing that which we can't begin to possibly understand, and also hope in the goodness, loving-kindness, and wonder that comes as a result of this fear?

In the midst of this season, do you see God?

Because God sees you.

You are known.

You are seen.

You have not been forgotten.

Hope and fear are valid emotions; but how are you using them? Are they functioning as a trigger for your anxiety, or are they pushing you towards growth? Is your faith demanding God's attention?

Perspective is everything.