To the Scared, Depressed, and the Grieving

I’ve spent the past few hours alternating between staring at a blank screen, hoping to write something uplifting about the presence of God during this time of uncertainty, and trying to complete my reading for class. I have failed miserably at both tasks.

I have spent hours staring at my class reading. The book actually seems interesting, yet every time I read a line my mind starts to wander: “how long will all this last? I miss attending church. I hope my elderly parents stay safe. I wonder how my international friends are holding up. This quarantine has only reinforced how alone I am. Now I can’t even pretend via church and school that I have friends. How did the infection count jump 5,000 in an hour? I don’t understand why we, as a nation, can’t supply healthcare workers if the equipment they need.” Needless to say such thoughts make focusing on my reading difficult. I spent an hour re-reading a single page and I still have no idea what it says.

When it comes to writing, I initially had a little more luck. A few hours ago, I wrote a full page before deleting it as self-indulgent. “Naiomi, no one wants to hear about how your initial coping strategy was to pretend that you were in a movie. There are people dying. They never had that privilege of pretending they were extras in a movie, waiting for the director to yell, “cut!”

So, I tried again. The next time I got a little over page before I sputtered out. And even that page took a few hours as I kept deleting and starting over. I wanted desperately to write something inspiring, that encouraged people to look to God for strength and hope during this time period, that reminded people that while our personal Lent will probably last longer than 40 days, that Easter is coming. But the reality is, I’m tired and heartbroken.

I’m tired of reading about people and institutions who are trying to act as if its business as usual. It’s not. The reality is people are watching their loved ones get sick and die because political leaders initially insisted COVID 19 was nothing major to worry about. Now that the government has more or less changed its tune, there are still people going to in person church services and still having parties.

I’m heartbroken at the large list of medical providers throughout the world that have died as a result of COVID 19.

I’m tired of state political leaders fucking around and refusing to issue stay at home orders, or leaving glaring exceptions that render the order all but useless.

I’m heartbroken at the increasing number of memorials popping up on facebook, twitter, and tik tok as more and more people die.

I’m tired of waking up each day, frantically making sure that my friends and loved ones, especially those living states away, are safe.

I am heartbroken for those grieving alone.

So instead of writing a super uplifting post or forcing myself to do hours of reading for class, I am giving myself space to feel all of the things: depression, anger, worry, loneliness, boredom, and exhaustion.

There are some Christians who insist that having faith means that we shouldn’t be afraid, anxious, or depressed. That we need to put on a brave face, try and be joyful in the midst of suffering, and act as if everything is ok. They mistake outward signs of joy for faith while expressions of anger, fear, and sadness are as evidence of faithlessness. They claim God wants us to be happy and at peace, no matter what is going on in the world. What a small, weak God they present.

The God I read about, especially in the Psalms is a God that can handle our cries for help and our pain. God isn’t asking us for fake outward expressions of joy. Or to pretend as if everything is fine, when everything is falling apart around us.

In Psalm 6, the author, who is most likely suffering from some sort of illness is begging God for help. Eventually, yes, the Psalm describes God as listening to the author’s prayers and putting to shame their enemies, but the majority of the Psalm is focused on the author’s pain and grief. The psalmist is calling out for help. And while the psalmist is confident of God’s eventual provision, in the moment, the author is over whelmed by physical pain and spiritual grief.

Faith is not pretending as if everything is normal, but rather true faith is acknowledging that things are scary and painful right now. True faith is believing that God is big enough to handle all of our emotions.

Experts are predicting that the worst is yet to come. While some will insist that me saying that is an act of faithlessness, I counter that it is an acknowledgement of reality. The next few weeks, will for many of us, be much more difficult than the last few weeks. And the last few weeks were really, really hard.

I just want to say, as we face the unknown: that your emotions are valid. Your grief, anger, depression, exhaustion are valid emotions that deserve to be shared and expressed. God can handle them. God can handle your doubts. God is not afraid of your justifiable anger. God will not turn away from your grief. You can believe that things will eventually get better, while still acknowledging that we are currently living through hell.

do believe things will get better. But first, things will probably get worst. And as we grapple with what that may look like as a nation, and as individuals, we can rest assured that God can handle our anguish.