Fear and Sadness in the Midst of Uncertainty

My heart is in anguish within me,
the terrors of death have fallen upon me.
Fear and trembling come upon me,
and horror overwhelms me.
And I say, “O that I had wings like a dove!
I would fly away and be at rest; truly, I would flee far away;
I would lodge in the wilderness; Selah
I would hurry to find a shelter for myself
from the raging wind and tempest.” -Psalm 55:4-8 NRSV

The 2019-2020 school year, was already shaping up to be one of my more difficult years. The hopes and dreams I had for the future were dashed. Academia-which for so many years had been a place of safety and welcome for me, became a place where my self-esteem was crushed and where my self-worth was constantly called into question.

But even though my personal world was falling apart-there was still a sense of rhythm, routine and safety. My personal future was filled with anxiety and uncertainty but the larger world still went on: people continued going to work, out to restaurants, to bars, to night clubs. And even though as an introvert, I was never particularly fond of bars or night clubs, there was comfort in knowing that even though my individual life was falling apart, society at large was continuing as normal. There was hope that if I could just get over this rough patch, things would one day be ok.

Even the tiresome debates held by the Democrats, which never seemed to end and which right until the last month seemed to incorporate ever new potential presidential candidates, was reassuring in its predictability. It was certain that no matter what was going on in my personal life, that at the very least, Biden, Warren and Bernie supporters would lambaste each other for bringing about the ultimate downfall of American society.

I could guarantee that no matter what was happening in my own personal saga of a life, that I could go on twitter or tik tok and be greeted by hundreds of political memes extolling one candidate while villainizing the others. It was annoying and tiresome, but there was a routine and predictability within this contentious political season.

And then of course, I had Sunday school and church. No matter how bad my life was, services would continue. Even when my life was unpredictable, I knew that on most Sundays there would be a 9:00am service, a simple service at 9:30am, Sunday school at 10:00am, and the 11:00am service (which because of my love of sleep, is the one I typically attended). If the senior minister was out for some reason? No problem, there was a slew of assistant ministers who could take his place for that day. Service would continue.

Knowing the danger COVID-19 presents to those most at risk in society and knowing the massive weaknesses in our health infrastructure, I understand and applaud any attempts to slow down the spread of COVID-19. I think states are making the right decisions in shutting down bars and sit-down restaurants. I applaud schools that close down, as long as they provide thoughtful and adequate responses for the most vulnerable students and their families. And I understand and am grateful that many churches take seriously the need to protect their members and are finding alternative ways to foster communities while advocating physical social distance.

All of these measures are necessary. And I hope in a few weeks or months, these actions look like “overreactions.” Successfully containing a pandemic often appears, after the fact, like an “overreaction.” If the actions taken on a local, state, and federal level seem adequate, then those actions have occurred too late.

Yet even in recognizing the necessity of these actions, I still feel a sense of loss and helplessness. I took comfort in the fact that while I was struggling on a personal level, that society itself was marching forward. Now, everything feels as if it is at a standstill. The uncertainty I had about my personal future, is felt by millions of people as we ask ourselves, “how long will this continue?” Millions of people are left wondering when they can go back to work, how they will pay next month’s bills, if their schools will reopen.

While some Christians claim that “fear is the opposite of faith” and will insist on trying to go on-business as usual, the reality is that life for millions throughout the US and the world has been disrupted. It’s no longer business as usual. I am not ashamed to say that I am afraid. And I am sad.

I am sad that, for the safety of the larger community and for my loved ones, I cannot for the time being, attend physical church services. I am sad for those who have lost their jobs as bars and restaurants par down. I am sad for high school and college seniors that have seen once in a life time events canceled. I am devastated for those who have been permanently and physically scarred by the effects of COVID-19 and those who lost loved ones.

My fear and sadness does not mean I am any less of a Christian. But it means I am in tune with reality. Life, for at least the next few weeks will be different. And we need to grapple with that. We need to be honest about our feelings. No, don’t panic, don’t lose hope. But don’t pretend that we can go on, business as usual. Because for now, we can’t.

For me, faith doesn’t mean pretending that everything is currently ok. Because it is not. Faith means recognizing our current reality but remembering that we do not need to face these unpredictable and scary times alone. We have God and we have each other. We might not be able to physically hang out, but we can still find ways to be there for one another by calling each other or reaching out on social media.

Faith doesn’t cancel out fear, but it reminds us not to give into blind panic that harms the most vulnerable. It reminds us that even when our predicable routines are taken away, that there is hope. God is with us.

Faith means acknowledging our pain, sorrow, and fear while not losing hope that we can and will come out the other side. Faith means curbing our activities now, so that the most vulnerable in society can live.