Recently (that’s as specific as I can get), I ran across an interesting article online about the unusually vivid dreams people are having during these shelter-in-place days (Read the article from National Geographic HERE). I was glad to learn I was not alone in my strange dreamlife. I’ll leave it to you to read the article, and I will spare you descriptions of my dreams, except for the close of one from a couple of nights ago. The dream ended with metal doors clanging shut and the announcement, “There will be no parole!”
OK. In other times, I might have wrestled with varied and subtle interpretations of that dream, but right now the meaning seems clear. Our confinement continues, and the parole board keeps voting no.
Now, I’m certainly not comparing sheltering in place to prison. I’ve seen the inside of prisons, and this isn’t prison. Nor do I want to imply that being home alone with my wife feels in any way punitive (though I cannot assume how she might answer). No, this isn’t prison, but it’s definitely different, strange, open-ended, and a little maddening.
Maybe we can say that life has been pared down—not simplified, just condensed. The many elements of life are all at the same table. Work, school, family time, recreation, even worship, long compartmentalized, now are roommates, each vying for attention. Life’s pieces blur and combine in their impact. Shuffle the deck all you like, but the cards all have to be played.
Wake up. Eat. Work. Eat. Shop or pay bills. Eat. Work some more. Eat. Go for a walk. Hydrate. Attend a Zoom meeting. Snack. What time is it? Binge-watch a British mystery. Snack. Think about the things that didn’t get done. Sleep. Have weird dreams. Rinse. Repeat. Hours pass, days blur, and the scenery remains consistent.
And … so what, Preacher? Well, I think there might be some advantage in the blurring of lines, at least for our spiritual lives. Faith has come home from (Sunday) school. Church is no longer the place down the street. Pass the mashed potatoes and the big questions, would you? We have a life to figure out and so many pieces to fit together. I would like to think that when I emerge from sheltering, something will have changed besides my weight.
So, I hereby resolve to take better advantage of Easter. Not the day, which is done, but the season just begun. Normally, Easter Sunday is huge, of course, with massive crowds packing pews, but this year … Pews? What pews? We celebrated with joy, and it was beautiful, and I am thankful for the time we spent “together.” But I suspect, and hope, that this Easter will not be the huge Sunday wave that crashes into the beach of “Sunday after.” The Easter “curve” this year might be less dramatic, but it can also be longer-lived.
We know how to make a great day of Easter; this year let’s make a great season of it. This Sunday we’ll look at John’s telling of Easter evening, then the next Sunday we’ll walk the road to Emmaus (with a sermon in three parts by three preachers). And we will continue to explore the joy of Easter even in our blurry days. Wednesday evenings offer a time of prayer and worship with Brent Huckaby and Jordan Grassi; children are zooming with Susan Pinson, the youth with Connor Bell, and young adults with Blair Setnor; we are offering some Bible study times during the week; and daily video check-ins will feature a variety of voices from around our church.
So, the day is over, but the season goes on. Easter is a Sunday, and Easter is the good news—the grace, life, and world-changing hope of Jesus Christ—that can transform every day with love, even if we don’t know exactly what day it is. And just like work and school, Easter is here to make itself at home with you.
In Christ,
Rev. Mark Westmoreland