I’ve been living in the basement for five days waiting for COVID test results. We’re fortunate to have a space in our house where a past-middle-aged guy can watch a ton of movies, eat like a teenager, sleep like a large cat, and keep everyone else in the house from getting sick.

It’s not been horrible. I needed some space.

COVID hit us pretty hard. We were safe, but the constant threat and unknowns coupled with our chosen level of isolation wasn’t kind to the kids. We’ve navigated the storm well, I’d say, but it’s been a difficult two years.

Poor us, right? Could’ve been much worse.

Sadly, we all face 2022 with more uncertainty — the last thing we need right now. Thank God Netflix and others have caught on to our plight and delivered things like Ted Lasso to help bolster our spirits.

It’s in this chapter that I’ve experienced some of the most difficult challenges of my Christian life. I’ve had a hard time believing that there’s a point to all of this God stuff.

I’m not alone. The Bible is full of end-of-their-rope folk who struggled to believe. Some of them, understandably, bailed.

It’s hard to have faith when faith isn’t delivering anything tangible, when hope isn’t happening on a somewhat regular basis and/or the world seems like it’s unravelling.

Desert

When COVID landed on the Landry doorstep in early 2020, we stopped attending indoor church services. In a very short time, I went from serving/volunteering/attending/etc. to nothing. Church was a big part of my social calendar, a weekly, organic injection of people that required almost no effort. I miss seeing everyone on a Sunday morning.

But I live with the smartest person you’ve ever met, a medical professional who’s daily life has been rocked to the core with COVID, anti-vaxxers, disinformation, an overwhelmed healthcare system, and a mountain of compassion fatigue. When she shares her opinion about hanging out indoors with large groups of singing people, I’m happy to listen.

I spent the first year of COVID at home with the kids while they did their online school thing. That was murder. Then came the summer where we tried to find things to do during pandemic lockdown. Further murder. Finally, the kids went back to school, masked up and ready to go while I stayed home, trying to make sense of the previous 21 months.

We’re fortunate. One of us works, the other takes care of everything else with C+ precision. The past two years would’ve been much harder if we were a dual income family, or worse, a single-parent, one income operation.

Either way, this has been a trip through the desert, and I quit booze three months ago, so there’s nothing to drink. If you’re there too, following are some thoughts that I hope will help.

The Religion of Distraction

When life gets difficult, I often turn to things that promise immediate relief. The more I engage them, the harder it is to say no. Some call these addictions; I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t call them unhealthy. And while they deliver much in the short term, they cost much more later on, taking an exceptional toll on all the humors.

During COVID, my addictive tendencies went through the roof, one of the reasons I quit drinking. But saying “no” to booze has meant saying “yes” to the discomfort I’ve been trying to avoid. Addiction isn’t so much about self-control as it is about dealing with the pain, loneliness, and discouragement that is part and parcel to a normal life.

For example, when I get to the end of a long day of child-rearing, I typically don’t feel like I’ve done a good job, or that my work has any real meaning. I don’t do well with those emotions. I can handle loneliness all day long, but meaninglessness and failure are killers.

So, I turn to something that has power to bring a little hope, or at least distraction, into the equation. It’s a religion of sorts – I have faith that this thing will bring relief.

The ancient Greeks called this εἰδωλολατρία (idolatry): believing in statues, images, religious rites, etc., giving them power that they don’t have, expecting them to do things that they simply can’t.

But it’s what I do when I’m in the desert, wondering if I’ll ever make it out, grasping for relief even if it’s only temporary. Long-term consequences be damned.

There’s faith in my addictions, misplaced as it might be.

The Odd Bed Fellowship Between Pain and Hope

Contrary to what we might hear in a good Sunday morning sermon, pain is just as much a part of faith as all the other Christian things we do. It’s also part of being a happy human. I don’t think we should go looking for it, but when it lands in our lap, we shouldn’t run from it.

Our difficult moments, even the ones that last too long, are an invitation of sorts. Typically, we call them opportunities to “grow up” in our faith, or “get stronger,” but I think they call us into something deeper, something that St. Paul suggested in his letter to the newly minted “Jewish Christians,” now living in Rome:

“…we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint.” Romans 5:3-5

Hope solves just about everything. It is the fundamental ingredient lacking in our most painful moments.

If you want some, oddly enough, you’ll have to sit in these moments. But, according to St. Paul, the loneliness, discouragement, meaninglessness, fear, etc., won’t be your death, it might result in the exact opposite.

Never Alone

To this, Jesus made a promise, one that I think is real.

If you’re not a religious person, hang with me, this is going to sound a bit hocus-pocusy. If you are a religious person, hang with me here because we really suck at this.

During the “last supper,” shortly after Jesus served his disciples by doing something reserved for the lowest of servants, he said:

“If you love me, do the stuff I told you to do, and I will ask God and He will send to you one who will comfort you.” ~ John 14:15

Following the commandments of Jesus is much more difficult than mere religious adherence. The world has its broken places, as do we, and Jesus has commanded us to step into them and bring something from heaven. That hurts, and we’re free to run if we choose.

Or, we can stay in the trouble and ask for help, or better, hope, and trust that we’ll get it.

It’s a prayer that God always answers so long as I’ve had the faith to sit, wait, and ask. Although I have a tendency to run, I have, on occasion, managed to believe with C+ precision.

I have hope that any further trips through the desert, important as they are to my humanity, will be temporary, and that I won’t be travelling by myself.

 

Photo by Raimond Klavins on Unsplash