Taking Control of our Narrative

CORONAVIRUS. The pandemic of 2020 that will be written about in history books for years to come. How future historians tell the narrative is up to us. During a time when everything seems surreal and out of human control, we do have control of the narrative that comes out of our mouths, the story that is written about the actions that all of humanity took during these days of uncertainty.

I realized a few days ago that the narrative my children were picking up on and internalizing in their minds was one of fear. Our travel plans we have been talking about for months instantly dissolved. Their grandparents were at risk...it was spreading from Asia to Europe  to America. "Thank goodness it's not in Africa, right Mama?" Oh, wait. It's in Africa now too. It didn't help matters that we've recently been studying about The Plague and talking about how diseases can sometimes jump from animals to humans and then quickly spread to a lot of humans. It certainly wasn't helpful when my eldest child saw the Johns Hopkins disease spread map that looks like the red Coronavirus blobs are taking over the world like those gooey blobs overtook Mr. Incredible when he tried to save his family from Syndrome's evil wrath. I realized that this narrative needed to be turned around, and that needed to happen quickly.

Thus, on Sunday, the National Day of Prayer, we decided to set aside the steady stream of info coming into our homes and out of our mouths in hushed whispers and peppered conversations, and instead chose to open the floodgate of remembering that God is in control of all things. He invites us to be a part of this world- to have control over the choices we make and to think methodically through our actions and interactions with others. What He does not intend for us to do is to make those choices  from a place of fear- the emotion that is the easiest to run to when we consider all of the ramifications of our dominoes falling. What is harder, but all the more crucial, is operating from a place of love.

"Memento, homo, quia pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris." 

Remember, we are but dust and to dust we shall return. 

What will continue on after each one of us has left this earth is the narrative that we are write during these days. Will the history books talk about the wild swings of the stock markets, the shutdown of nearly all travel everywhere, the rush to buy up essential products from the supermarket before they drop off the shelves?  Sure. (Heaven forbid we run out of toilet paper- a luxury that the majority of the developing world not see as crucial for living). But may they also highlight Italians singing into the streets, opera singers and orchestra musicians pushing back the darkness and fear of disease by instead sharing their talents with the all who may hear. May we read about the doctors and nurses who fearlessly chose to care for COVID-19 patients (whether they felt adequately prepared to or not) because it is the right thing to do and they had it in their power to do it. May our children remember how families came together during quarantine, and actually made memories with one another, laughed, played games, and deepened our relationships with one another. May they remember hours of Face Timing with their grandparents and enjoying one another even across an entire world. Is there plenty to be fearful of in these days? Sure. But that doesn't have to be the dominant theme of the story we are telling. It is crucial that we give future historians, the ones sent home from school and grounded in our homes right now, the narrative of Hope in something bigger than themselves.

At the beginning of Lent we made "Hallelujah!" signs that we were planning to bury in our back yard and dig up on Easter. This was to symbolize the temporary putting away of our rejoicing, focusing on the brokenness of this world and how our sin contributed to Jesus' death on the cross, allowing the crescendo of Easter's "Hallelujah! He is Risen!"  to build slowly over a season of remembering the tragedy of the Cross. Then Coronavirus happened, and we all have been acutely aware of the brokenness of this world and our lack of control to fix it. We put aside the task of burying the "Hallelujah!" signs that had been sitting by the front door for the past two weeks, and instead decided to declare it loud and clear in our home. We made posters and looked up verses to push back fear, to remember God's sovereignty, practice rejoicing in the face of calamity, and reminding ourselves to repent, repent, and always repent (there's lots of opportunity in our homes for that!) Jesus has victoriously conquered sin and even now is weaving redemption into each and every one of our stories.

Yes, there are many things we don't have control over in today's world. But the narrative we write for our future historians is not one of them. Rather than future headlines talking about panic and fear and media-craze and blame-shifting, may the world remember in these frightful days how humanity put aside its differences and came together in LOVE. That starts with you and I, in our homes, talking to our children, and directing their hearts toward the sufficient hope of glory.

This is Life.

[hope in the midst of pandemic]