A New Normal
I came across this statement the other day, "In the rush to return to normal, use this time to consider which parts of normal are worth rushing back to."
Now I admit that I'm missing a lot of things lately. The occasional dinner at my favorite Mexican restaurant, hugs, handshakes, face to face conversations over coffee and not the computer, not being able to visit my son Andrew and his wife Allison for Mother's Day, and worshipping collectively with a lot of people—I miss going to church.
Right before the Stay at Home Order, I started reading John Mark Comer's book, The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry. Isn't that funny? I think it is.
You see, hurry kills, and the things that birth life take time and patience. Relationships take time, sitting still, and enjoying the moment takes time; listening takes time, joy, gratitude, and appreciation take time. But we've shorted ourselves of the valuable commodity of time. We've packed our days and nights so full that we are exhausted and don't have enough time to finish all that we've started.
Thomas Merton once wrote, "the rush and pressure of modern life is a pervasive form of contemporary violence." Excellent choice of strong words, Tom—pervasive, and violence. Pervasive is an adjective that explains the unwelcome influence or physical effect of something that spreads widely throughout an area or a group of people. Violence always damages, kills, or destroys. Yep, that pretty much sums it up. That's an accurate description of the crazy rush of this modern life.
There are fears and trepidation in the COVID-19 pandemic. It's essential to reflect on the good outcomes. The forced changes to our everyday schedules that came to a screeching halt are not adverse. Some have been a blessing. We were traveling too fast and needed to take a breath.
One-week into the quarantine, I stepped out on my back deck one morning to breathe in the fresh air. My neighbor, four houses to the right, was standing on her deck, and she began to wave to me. A gigantic wave—a notice me wave. I waved and yelled back, "Good morning; how are you?" We carried on a brief conversation that brought a smile to my face before we said goodbye and headed back inside.
That's a new normal for me, waving to my neighbor from my back deck. Playing Scrabble in the evenings is going to be a new normal. Appreciating a friendly hug is a new normal. A new normal is praying daily for healthcare workers. Being fully present when I'm with family and friends is a new normal because I didn't think I would not be able to see them.
John Ortberg said, "Hurry is not just a disordered schedule. Hurry is a disordered heart." I'm taking some much-needed time to look at my heart, reflecting on what keeps me spinning plates. What's the root of the disordered schedule? What's the source of my hurry?
In the new normal, whatever that looks like, what will you do differently? Will you love more, laugh more, be still more, read more? Will you watch out for your neighbor more? Will you ___________?
You get the picture: something, or some things needed to change.
Time is the great equalizer for all of us. We get the same amount of time allotted to us each day, seven days a week, 365 days in the year. Time doesn't care how much money you have. Time doesn't care if you're married, single, children, or do not have children. Time doesn't care about gender. Time doesn't care, but Jesus cares. When speaking about yokes and burdens, Jesus reminded us that His yoke is easy and His burden light. "Keep company with me, and you'll learn to live freely and lightly (Matt. 11:30, MSG)." Jesus himself escaped the busyness of the crowds occasionally to renew His strength (Mark 6:31).
Will you? Escape? The busyness? Lean into an unhurried life? I'm waving at you from my deck, saying, "I'm in. Let's do this." Let's keep company with Jesus and learn to live a little.