Abnormal Hope

Last Easter, I wrote about how wonderful it would be when we were free to meet in large groups again. I imagined the hugs in the church lobby, the happy rejoicing. In my never-having-lived through-a-pandemic naivety, I somehow assumed we’d go from complete lock-down to business as usual.

Boy, was I wrong.

I’ve been in church four times now since the doors opened and it’s nothing like I imagined. Registering ahead of time and checking in when I arrive. Chair rows spread apart six feet. Leaving three empty seats between every household. Wearing masks. Using hand sanitizer. No printed programs. No passing of offering plates. Waiting for an usher to dismiss your row, one at a time starting at the back. And definitely no hugging.

The first couple of weeks, I left feeling sad. The third week, I almost didn’t attend. I’m so glad I did. I chatted with my pastor for a few minutes ahead of the service and prayed with someone afterwards. The “new normal” began to feel manageable, the benefits overriding the weirdness.

Those who choose to view the service from home do so for valid reasons, and my aim in this article is not to judge, discourage, or sway you. We are in this together, and kindness must remain our number one rule, whatever choices we make for ourselves and our families. I choose to attend despite the restrictions and the inconveniences. I can think of three reasons why.

First of all, I go to church in case I don’t have the option next week. The rules could change. I or someone near me could test positive. I could become ill and never sit in church again. Every Sunday, there’s a heightened awareness that it could be my last time.

Secondly, I’ve found worshiping together with my church family simply cannot be recreated at home. Seated on my couch, I’m less likely to sing along, perhaps because I hear my own voice too well. I become a spectator. The power in the words we proclaim about who God is and who we are to him multiplies when we worship together. Those truths penetrate my heart and mind, fortifying me for the week ahead, in a way that does not happen from home. (Being spread out actually provides an unexpected benefit: I’m free to move, clap, or raise my hands with no worries about infringing on someone else’s space!)

Thirdly, I do a better job of listening to the message. At home, I’m too easily distracted by my phone, by pedestrians on my street, or by the close proximity to my pantry and fridge. When I’m present at church, I take notes. Whether or not I ever look at those notes again, I retain what I’ve heard more thoroughly. Occasionally those notes end up on this blog, like the great line Pastor Kevin Fawcett gave us last Sunday. He reminded us that Jesus’ disciples faced a whole new normal after he left their physical presence. New challenges, new opposition, new methods. But the same Jesus. And Jesus’ new normal is abnormally good. Abnormally hopeful. (You can find the whole message HERE.)

May you be blessed with abnormal hope today.