Each time I sit down to write for this Abundant Aging blog, I find myself reviewing my life. Sometimes it’s just a cursory glance at the past week of inconsequential events, and other times, I examine the major trajectory of life.
Over the past weeks of physical distancing to flatten the curve of the spread of the coronavirus, I’ve been more diligent in a daily time of reading and devotion — drawn to poetry and scripture — finding glimmers of light and hope in the words of others.
Pentecost is known to Christians as the “birthday of the church,” the day when the promised Holy Spirit came among the gathered people and compelled folks to be witnesses to God’s deeds of power. On that day, in all the languages of the world, people began to share the news of God’s creative power and the gift of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection, enlivened by the power of the Holy Spirit.
Jesus’ closest friends and followers gathered together, in a house, uncertain about what the future would hold, now that Jesus was not with them. They had crossed a threshold into a place of safety and predictability. I imagine they shared a meal, something they had done many times with Jesus. Their voices and hearts blessed that meal and their time together. Then, something remarkable happened: “From heaven, there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house…” (Acts 2:2) And in the next moments, the gathered crowd heard the good news in whatever language they understood.
I imagine this a chaotic scene as the noise of hundreds of voices rose in confusion. People talking. Others hearing and shouting. And then a dawning of understanding.
We’ve crossed a threshold, into our homes, separated from our communities, in familiar surroundings. As this time of isolation still stretches ahead, we’ve created new patterns of life. We’ve found answers to our questions of whether we can safely go out, grocery shop, see family. For me, the answer is still no. I’m, as our Michigan governor says, “safer at home.”
Like the ancient people, we’ve been changed by our time in this season of isolation. We’ve heard a cacophony of noise from our televisions, radios and other kinds of media. It’s loud! We’ve struggled to make sense; we’ve had to listen carefully to understand. But held in this time is a gospel message of love. Loving God, loving one another, loving even the neighbors we don’t know. Guided by a message of power and unity that speaks to our hearts: Stay safe — you are God’s beloved!
Sometime in the future, we will cross a threshold again. We will decide when and how we will expand our new limits. Visiting just one person outside our household, perhaps. Choosing our own produce again, maybe. Taking a walk with a friend…with a mask, one day! Loving anew.
The poets speak. We hear. Happy birthday, church — each of us bearers of God’s love!
With gratitude, I share the words of poet Anne Hillman:
We Look with Uncertainty
We look with uncertainty
beyond the old choices for
clear-cut answers
to a softer, more permeable aliveness
which is every moment
at the brink of death;
for something new is being born in us
if we but let it.
We stand at a new doorway,
awaiting that which comes…
daring to be human creatures,
vulnerable to the beauty of existence.
Learning to love.