Illusion of a Standstill
For those of you who have been keeping up with the church website regularly, you may have noticed that not as much got posted this week. I usually try to post a new reflection, some words of encouragement, some prayers and scripture readings, at least every few days. And this week just got away from me.
And the reason is simple – we’re in this illusion of a standstill, where everything in the world seems to be on hold until we can get this virus figured out. And yet, time still continues. The world keeps happening. And some things are happening very slowly or not at all… while other things are moving at normal speeds, or even seem to be moving faster.
In our house, this was a tremendously busy week. Even though I’m not in the church building, even though Nicole is working from home most days. Even though the kids are home from school and doing their classwork from their bedrooms. All the physical signs are that life in our house has slowed down. But it really hasn’t.
Our youngest son, Simon, turns 3 today. And while a 3-year old’s birthday is usually cause for a party, because of our social restrictions, we can’t throw a party. It also means that we can’t say a proper good-bye to the therapists who have been working with him for the last year, year and a half.
Most of you know that Simon has autism. He’s been receiving in-home therapy since January of last year to help him with communication, cognitive, social, and sensory skills. And those therapists have made a world of difference in helping him and us learn. And when this pandemic shut everything down, his in-home therapy sessions moved to online, which, while still helpful, wasn’t really the same. But they did their best and we all adjusted and we made the best of it.
This past week has been difficult for us. It’s been a whirlwind of sessions as each therapist tried to squeeze in as many supplemental sessions as they could to try to teach us a few extra tricks for when Simon gets cranky or fussy or frustrated or uncooperative or whatever he’s going through. So instead of getting 1, maybe 2 sessions a day like we’re used to, he’s been getting 2, maybe 3. With the payoff that starting tomorrow, he won’t see those wonderful people at all anymore. And he moves into the school program… with distance learning that we’re still not sure how it’s going to work with him.
So, there is a point to this, and it’s not just to give you a glimpse into a day in the life of Pastor Dave. But hopefully it’s to illustrate a way in which our sense of time these days doesn’t make as much sense as it used to. We’re all sort of used to everything in our lives progressing at much the same pace. Yet, in my family, and in many, many others, there are any number of ways in which some things are standing still, some things are slowing down, yet other parts of our lives plow on ahead, completely unimpeded. And that disconnect – that disjointing of the way our time passes now is exhausting. It can be confusing and leave us feeling off-balance and out of sorts.
Now, whether we’re talking about how we experience time, or how we usually conduct our lives and go about our business, or how our perceptions and our assumptions of the world around us may have changed, we’re all a little bit disoriented in the world today. None of us knows exactly what to feel or how to react or what to expect, since known of us has experienced any situation quite like this before.
And I’m sitting here, contemplating my own disorientation, reading about Cleopas and another disciple, walking the road to Emmaus, certain in their own perceptions, certain in their own interpretations of what happened in Jerusalem… sharing that story with a man they cannot yet recognize as Jesus.
And the three of them are walking and talking together for what seems like most of the day. It’s about 7 miles from Jerusalem to Emmaus, but they seem to be taking a fairly leisurely pace – chatting as they go. And as they walk and they talk, Jesus is telling them of the scriptures and the prophets… and it is only at the end of the day, when they stop to rest, and to break bread together, that they are able to recognize Jesus for who he is.
And in that moment they recognize him, Jesus vanishes from them. And they are left with just each other. And we might imagine that they’re feeling confused. Disoriented. Anxious. To think that everything they thought they knew all along, wasn’t at all the case. That their perceptions and their experiences had failed them. That they had been in one mindset their entire journey, only to reach the end and find out they’re in an entirely different reality.
Now – it’s not a perfect comparison to what we’re experiencing today. This pandemic has been dragging on for weeks into months, so it’s more of a slow burn compared to the experience of the disciples on the road, which happened in a single day. And our reality has been upended by the presence of a pestilence, which we wouldn’t wish on anyone, while theirs was upended by the presence of the divine Christ. So we’re certainly not drawing perfect parallels here.
But I think we can sort of understand that confusion they must have been feeling. That dizziness. We can imagine their knees going all wobbly as they suddenly comprehend everything that’s just happened to them, and as they struggle to make sense of it all.
The world as they thought they knew it has just been pulled out from under their feet. And they’re left spiraling. Anxiously leaning on each other – supporting each other – as they struggle to regroup. And they hurry back to Jerusalem to share what they’ve learned, what they’ve seen, and what they’ve experienced, with the other disciples.
And so we can see that their solution to coming to terms with their new reality – is to share it. To bring it to their community. To bring in others and in strength of numbers, make sense of it all together.
Which is precisely what we can’t do today. At least – not in the ways we might want to.
Our family saw this with Simon – when we realized there was something different about him, we called his doctor, and she made a recommendation, and that recommendation led to a diagnosis and experts, and bringing people in whose entire careers revolve around helping people make sense of this particular situation.
And when that community of experts and doctors and therapists had to go from being an in-person community to a virtual community… it wasn’t the same. The techniques and the interactions and the work just doesn’t translate all that well from real-life to online. It was a huge learning curve that no one’s really quite mastered yet.
And we see this in countless other areas of our lives. We can approximate things like family get-togethers, office happy hours, business meetings, school classes, concerts, church services and most things we used to do in person. But that often leaves us feeling even more disoriented… because while we like and appreciate seeing each other over the computer, we know that this is not how we’re meant to be. And it’s not a substitute for sitting down together, meeting face-to-face with one another, and breaking bread together.
Because coming together and sharing our stories… seeing each other… reading faces and body language and picking up on non-verbal cues… these are all integral to how we make sense of the world. So of course we’re spinning. Not just because everything seems topsy-turvy. But because community - the single most powerful tool that we have to make the world seem less topsy-turvy – is exactly what’s not available to us now. At least, not as fully as we need it to be.
So I realize that some of my analogies this morning are a little bit stretched… and some of the comparisons are a little bit thin. And I’ve been blathering on just a little bit. So let me just get to the point.
We’re not the disciples on the Road to Emmaus. We haven’t met Jesus – at least, not in the way they met him. Our world hasn’t been upended by the surprise blessing of Christ in the flesh among us – not that we know of, anyway.
Yet we can still imagine the confusion of living through an event that turns our entire reality on its head. We can still put ourselves in their shoes, trying to come to grips with living in a time of tremendous disorientation and disorder. We can certainly understand their need to find comfort and solace in community with each other. To return to the people they are in covenant with and share what they know and see to it that everyone is ok.
Those things are universal.
What’s also true is this… when the disciples met Jesus… the world didn’t stop making sense. But it made sense in a new way to them. It took some getting used to, and they needed some help – but they world they knew after meeting Jesus was exactly the world Jesus had told them to expect.
The fundamentals of our world haven’t changed, even as our experiences of it have.
We still love each other, perhaps even more than we did before.
We still long for community, and we use the tools we have to reach out across the miles and miles between us to make it happen.
We still find faith in God. The number of conversations I’ve had in the past month, with people who never go to church and now wish they could, and with other pastors who’ve had those conversations… and with people who are reaching out to faith communities they might have left or moved away from years ago… people are longing to reconnect with God. Including lots of people who might have unplugged from religion a long time ago.
We live in a world that is always changing. But we are loved by a God who is steadfast. Who stays with us. Who can sometimes throw us for a loop as well – but who always, always treats us with mercy, compassion, and love. And God’s eternal grace in our lives never changes. Not for the disciples on the Jerusalem road. And not for us today.
To God be all glory, praise, and honor. Amen.
Please pray with me.
Holy Lord, you know full well the difficulty of the times we live in. You can see the disconnect in our lives as we enjoy the sun shining and the sounds of children playing, yet we are reminded constantly of the prevalence of death behind closed doors. We ask that you put your peace in our hearts, and grant your compassion to your people. Help us to make sense of the world around us, as only you can. And strengthen the bonds of covenant you have made with us, and among your people. We pray this in the holy name of our Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
For those of you who have been keeping up with the church website regularly, you may have noticed that not as much got posted this week. I usually try to post a new reflection, some words of encouragement, some prayers and scripture readings, at least every few days. And this week just got away from me.
And the reason is simple – we’re in this illusion of a standstill, where everything in the world seems to be on hold until we can get this virus figured out. And yet, time still continues. The world keeps happening. And some things are happening very slowly or not at all… while other things are moving at normal speeds, or even seem to be moving faster.
In our house, this was a tremendously busy week. Even though I’m not in the church building, even though Nicole is working from home most days. Even though the kids are home from school and doing their classwork from their bedrooms. All the physical signs are that life in our house has slowed down. But it really hasn’t.
Our youngest son, Simon, turns 3 today. And while a 3-year old’s birthday is usually cause for a party, because of our social restrictions, we can’t throw a party. It also means that we can’t say a proper good-bye to the therapists who have been working with him for the last year, year and a half.
Most of you know that Simon has autism. He’s been receiving in-home therapy since January of last year to help him with communication, cognitive, social, and sensory skills. And those therapists have made a world of difference in helping him and us learn. And when this pandemic shut everything down, his in-home therapy sessions moved to online, which, while still helpful, wasn’t really the same. But they did their best and we all adjusted and we made the best of it.
This past week has been difficult for us. It’s been a whirlwind of sessions as each therapist tried to squeeze in as many supplemental sessions as they could to try to teach us a few extra tricks for when Simon gets cranky or fussy or frustrated or uncooperative or whatever he’s going through. So instead of getting 1, maybe 2 sessions a day like we’re used to, he’s been getting 2, maybe 3. With the payoff that starting tomorrow, he won’t see those wonderful people at all anymore. And he moves into the school program… with distance learning that we’re still not sure how it’s going to work with him.
So, there is a point to this, and it’s not just to give you a glimpse into a day in the life of Pastor Dave. But hopefully it’s to illustrate a way in which our sense of time these days doesn’t make as much sense as it used to. We’re all sort of used to everything in our lives progressing at much the same pace. Yet, in my family, and in many, many others, there are any number of ways in which some things are standing still, some things are slowing down, yet other parts of our lives plow on ahead, completely unimpeded. And that disconnect – that disjointing of the way our time passes now is exhausting. It can be confusing and leave us feeling off-balance and out of sorts.
Now, whether we’re talking about how we experience time, or how we usually conduct our lives and go about our business, or how our perceptions and our assumptions of the world around us may have changed, we’re all a little bit disoriented in the world today. None of us knows exactly what to feel or how to react or what to expect, since known of us has experienced any situation quite like this before.
And I’m sitting here, contemplating my own disorientation, reading about Cleopas and another disciple, walking the road to Emmaus, certain in their own perceptions, certain in their own interpretations of what happened in Jerusalem… sharing that story with a man they cannot yet recognize as Jesus.
And the three of them are walking and talking together for what seems like most of the day. It’s about 7 miles from Jerusalem to Emmaus, but they seem to be taking a fairly leisurely pace – chatting as they go. And as they walk and they talk, Jesus is telling them of the scriptures and the prophets… and it is only at the end of the day, when they stop to rest, and to break bread together, that they are able to recognize Jesus for who he is.
And in that moment they recognize him, Jesus vanishes from them. And they are left with just each other. And we might imagine that they’re feeling confused. Disoriented. Anxious. To think that everything they thought they knew all along, wasn’t at all the case. That their perceptions and their experiences had failed them. That they had been in one mindset their entire journey, only to reach the end and find out they’re in an entirely different reality.
Now – it’s not a perfect comparison to what we’re experiencing today. This pandemic has been dragging on for weeks into months, so it’s more of a slow burn compared to the experience of the disciples on the road, which happened in a single day. And our reality has been upended by the presence of a pestilence, which we wouldn’t wish on anyone, while theirs was upended by the presence of the divine Christ. So we’re certainly not drawing perfect parallels here.
But I think we can sort of understand that confusion they must have been feeling. That dizziness. We can imagine their knees going all wobbly as they suddenly comprehend everything that’s just happened to them, and as they struggle to make sense of it all.
The world as they thought they knew it has just been pulled out from under their feet. And they’re left spiraling. Anxiously leaning on each other – supporting each other – as they struggle to regroup. And they hurry back to Jerusalem to share what they’ve learned, what they’ve seen, and what they’ve experienced, with the other disciples.
And so we can see that their solution to coming to terms with their new reality – is to share it. To bring it to their community. To bring in others and in strength of numbers, make sense of it all together.
Which is precisely what we can’t do today. At least – not in the ways we might want to.
Our family saw this with Simon – when we realized there was something different about him, we called his doctor, and she made a recommendation, and that recommendation led to a diagnosis and experts, and bringing people in whose entire careers revolve around helping people make sense of this particular situation.
And when that community of experts and doctors and therapists had to go from being an in-person community to a virtual community… it wasn’t the same. The techniques and the interactions and the work just doesn’t translate all that well from real-life to online. It was a huge learning curve that no one’s really quite mastered yet.
And we see this in countless other areas of our lives. We can approximate things like family get-togethers, office happy hours, business meetings, school classes, concerts, church services and most things we used to do in person. But that often leaves us feeling even more disoriented… because while we like and appreciate seeing each other over the computer, we know that this is not how we’re meant to be. And it’s not a substitute for sitting down together, meeting face-to-face with one another, and breaking bread together.
Because coming together and sharing our stories… seeing each other… reading faces and body language and picking up on non-verbal cues… these are all integral to how we make sense of the world. So of course we’re spinning. Not just because everything seems topsy-turvy. But because community - the single most powerful tool that we have to make the world seem less topsy-turvy – is exactly what’s not available to us now. At least, not as fully as we need it to be.
So I realize that some of my analogies this morning are a little bit stretched… and some of the comparisons are a little bit thin. And I’ve been blathering on just a little bit. So let me just get to the point.
We’re not the disciples on the Road to Emmaus. We haven’t met Jesus – at least, not in the way they met him. Our world hasn’t been upended by the surprise blessing of Christ in the flesh among us – not that we know of, anyway.
Yet we can still imagine the confusion of living through an event that turns our entire reality on its head. We can still put ourselves in their shoes, trying to come to grips with living in a time of tremendous disorientation and disorder. We can certainly understand their need to find comfort and solace in community with each other. To return to the people they are in covenant with and share what they know and see to it that everyone is ok.
Those things are universal.
What’s also true is this… when the disciples met Jesus… the world didn’t stop making sense. But it made sense in a new way to them. It took some getting used to, and they needed some help – but they world they knew after meeting Jesus was exactly the world Jesus had told them to expect.
The fundamentals of our world haven’t changed, even as our experiences of it have.
We still love each other, perhaps even more than we did before.
We still long for community, and we use the tools we have to reach out across the miles and miles between us to make it happen.
We still find faith in God. The number of conversations I’ve had in the past month, with people who never go to church and now wish they could, and with other pastors who’ve had those conversations… and with people who are reaching out to faith communities they might have left or moved away from years ago… people are longing to reconnect with God. Including lots of people who might have unplugged from religion a long time ago.
We live in a world that is always changing. But we are loved by a God who is steadfast. Who stays with us. Who can sometimes throw us for a loop as well – but who always, always treats us with mercy, compassion, and love. And God’s eternal grace in our lives never changes. Not for the disciples on the Jerusalem road. And not for us today.
To God be all glory, praise, and honor. Amen.
Please pray with me.
Holy Lord, you know full well the difficulty of the times we live in. You can see the disconnect in our lives as we enjoy the sun shining and the sounds of children playing, yet we are reminded constantly of the prevalence of death behind closed doors. We ask that you put your peace in our hearts, and grant your compassion to your people. Help us to make sense of the world around us, as only you can. And strengthen the bonds of covenant you have made with us, and among your people. We pray this in the holy name of our Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.