Brie Gowen

Savor the Essence of Life

3 Facts From the Nurse

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I was so excited when things started to get back to normal status post quarantine, and I know you agree. While the family time was great and it was awesome to slow down and reflect on life, in all reality I was tired of an isolation world. I missed going to restaurants and letting my children go out into the neighborhood to play with their friends. I wanted the public pool reopened, and I wanted to go into a store without worrying I might contract something. I wanted store shelves to be fully stocked, and more than anything I wanted people to see my smile that the face mask hid. I was ready for a return to normal.

As a critical care nurse, I talked with my peers about a resurgence of COVID-19 before restrictions even lifted. I mean, we intelligently hypothesized it would, but I guess there was that part of me, the starry-eyed dreamer, perhaps, who hoped that Coronavirus could just disappear. Yet despite my desires, I knew it had not, and that knowledge was nailed home this week. So, consider this a Public Service Announcement, friendly reminder, or simply some advice from your friend on the frontlines of healthcare.

1. COVID-19 did not disappear. I repeat, it did not magically go away. The numbers of active cases began to fall because, logically, the population had been self isolating at home for a month or more. The powers that be wanted to prevent a spike of infection that would overwhelm the healthcare system. Remember the term “flatten the curve?” Well, they did just that. We (pat yourself on the back) did just that. We kept contamination and disease spread at a minimum while stuck at home, and in that process saw infection rate numbers drop from their April highs to a nice May low. Good job.

As numbers dropped the noise became less. The news networks found new stories to report, and COVID took the backseat. But hear me now. Just because it’s not on every single news channel, that doesn’t mean we cured it. It’s still here.

2. COVID-19 pandemic was not a hoax! Listen, I love a conspiracy theory as much as the next guy, but trust me on this one. It is sadly and tragically very real. While working on the frontlines of COVID, in a critical care COVID isolation unit, in a large, multi-ethnic, highly populated area, I saw far too much of this pandemic. My area wasn’t as bad as NYC, but in the face of this disease, it doesn’t have to be. Outcomes were not great, and I had to be intentional in self care not to crumble under the stress and depression of far too much death from this disease. I wish to God it wasn’t real, but none of us can unsee the fear on our patients’ faces or soon forget the tearful prayers over the phone with family.

I know that when things improve it’s easier to say the problem was overstated. When you desire for life to return to normal it’s easier to convince yourself it was never that bad. I mean, you can go into public without fear if you tell yourself the government and media faked statistics to exert control. When you don’t know someone personally who has suffered with Coronavirus or who has worked around it, it’s easy to ignore. You can just pretend it was never a thing to begin with, and you can get back to life per usual. Gosh, I wish I had the privilege of thinking this way.

3. COVID-19 numbers are on the rise. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news. I don’t want to be a joy-kill. I want to go to the mall and take my kids to amusement parks. I want everything like it was before, but that time is not right now. I don’t honestly know if things will ever be the same, and in some ways, maybe they shouldn’t be. Remember the great stuff we learned through this all? Like, washing your hands? Yes, we should still be doing that.

Three weeks ago I saw the best COVID-19 positive numbers I’ve seen since this started. It was awesome!! The unit was almost empty, and it seemed a welcoming sight compared to the previous couple of months.

Two weeks ago I barely noticed that the numbers had doubled I think a part of my brain acknowledged the fact, but that hopeful gal inside tried to push it away.

This week the numbers doubled again. This week staffing is tight to care for these people, and the rooms are filling back up. When I saw the number of positive cases I knew this was it. This was the predicted spike/return/resurgence of cases after restrictions were lifted. Y’all, I’m not gonna lie; it kinda scared me.

Here’s the thing. We can beat this. We can be smart. We can do the things we know we need to do. Do you remember how soap, Lysol, Clorox, and hand sanitizer flew off the shelves in April? Well, that makes me wonder, were folks not being sanitary prior to this pandemic?

It’s ok. I’m not even mad. You can continue your newly found habits to keep this thing manageable. Wash your hands. Don’t stick your hands in your mouth or touch your face if you haven’t. Wear a face mask when you’re in large groups. If not to protect yourself, then to protect someone else. Clean surfaces, and maybe chill on the big group gatherings until we get a better handle on this. It’s ok to still social distance. You don’t need to be up in everybody’s grill anyway. That’s also how other (less deadly) viruses spread.

In the return of COVID I’ve seen people advised as an outpatient to self-quarantine, ignore those doctor orders and infect their whole family. And while a young person may feel just fine, an aging parent or grandparent won’t fair as well.

I’ve seen people come to the hospital to get tested (and test positive) after leaving their shift at a restaurant. SMH. If you are symptomatic, stay home! I know we all need a paycheck, but this is life and death. I’m not exaggerating. I only wish I was.

Bottom line. Although COVID-19 left the news networks, it hasn’t left the hospital bedside. It hasn’t left your neighborhood. I’m not trying to scare you, but I am trying to educate you. Be smart and practice the previous guidelines. Just because life seems like it’s returning to “normal,” that doesn’t mean we have to. We can be better than before.

Is Satan Stealing Our Nation?

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I was praying this morning on the way to work, and I felt the Lord speaking to me about the condition of our Nation. I mean, how could He not. Unless you’ve been asleep under a rock, you’ve seen the devastation occurring. We giggle at the many memes joking about the craziness of the year 2020, but I think we laugh so we won’t cry. After all, who hasn’t considered the fact when someone brings up words like “end times.” Indeed, we are living in unprecedented times, and I wonder if we can truly see what is happening around us.

This morning as I prayed I had a vision of people on their knees. It was Saints of God, bowing in worship, and as they prayed light from Heaven beamed down into their bodies. It was as if the Holy Spirit was infusing His people with the power they needed, and the thought of this gave me hope. I prayed for revival, knowing that was what we needed, and then I received clarity on the battle to prevent awakening in our world. We were under attack, like never before, and if we were in end times, then we needed to have eyes to see and ears to hear! That is what I prayed for.

When COVID-19 first descended on our country, and it became apparent that the danger we faced was real, I could see a light peeking through the darkness. I know many of you saw it too. The light was shining from the life of others, as the Lord worked through His people to bring hope to a shocked world. We were witnesses to things we had never before encountered, and as we tried to make our way through the surreal fog of uncertainty, the essence of hope beamed like a beacon to persevere. People came together, communities stood tall, and voices rose. You could actually see faith in action, and while church buildings closed, the true church (the body of believers) came out of the woodwork to hold up the weak and weary. I was so proud.

It felt like revival was working its way through the country. Bibles were flying off store shelves and the Bible App reached record downloads. People who normally stayed away from entering a church building were showing up to watch services online, and the healing power of Jesus was reaching people it never had before. A pandemic was upon us, but in true, Awesome God fashion, the Lord was working it for good.

I remember thinking to myself, this is it. A great awakening is upon us.

But then the dastardly sandman slinked out of the grass, ready to close eyes however he could.

You began to see videos popping up on Facebook, and it was almost like the church of conspiracy theories was born. It stepped up its recruiting efforts in an unparalleled fashion, and it was like everyone I knew was suddenly “woke.” Isn’t it ironic how the medium the devil used to distract God’s people from His work, closing their eyes to what He really wanted them to do, was termed such a thing?

Everyone became suspicious. And while I’m a realist, aware of government intrusion, even I couldn’t believe the uproar. Helpers became hiders. People who had formerly been encouraging each other, suddenly began arguing amongst themselves. United people became fragmented factions, hurling ugly words over whether to stay at home or not. Masked men versus the unmasked, and vaccinators fighting with oil infusers. Ridiculous. Petty arguments over politics, and an ever-present stream of shock-factor videos that threatened to disappear if you didn’t watch right away!

While there was nothing wrong with awareness of media manipulation or political propaganda, the problem came with Satan using the work of evil men to further divide good people. The devil was taking something that should have been for the good of mankind and using it to drive a wedge between them. Tempers flared, and instead of us finding the strength we needed to persevere through difficult times in Jesus, we tried to find it in knowledge, as if uncovering conspiracy would make a very real virus suddenly disappear. Instead of finding unity in our fear of the unknown, we allowed evil to thin our patience, replacing it with anger at our neighbor, when really we were just angry with a situation we couldn’t control.

Basically, a time that could have been a win for the church, became an opportunity for losing our cool. What should have been a time of spiritual awakening, instead became a time of distracted slumber. Y’all, we fell for it hook, line, and sinker. I’m guilty too. In times where I could have shown compassion, I responded in frustration. Pride abounded, with each group certain of only one thing; they were right about absolutely everything. We forgot how to humble ourselves, and Satan lapped it up like the dog he is. Evil fed off our anger, and if we could see into the spiritual realm, I’m certain we would have seen demonic forces strengthened by the vapors of our fear and rage. A time when the Nation could have come together, when the church had the utmost opportunity to be a witness of love, we instead fought over whether Outback Steakhouse should open back up their dining room. It’s a laughable comment, until you realize it’s true. We lashed out when we could have loved instead. Fueled by fear and a lack of control, we found false security in fighting over petty indifferences. As if proving that a face mask does no good in public, that would somehow make everything fall into place.

I realize I’m getting too wordy, so please hang with me and I’ll try to tie this up. My point is, our Nation needs a wake up call, but every time God sends one, we fall for Satan’s lullaby! The Lord calls us to follow Him, but Satan whispers for us to hit the snooze button just one more time.

The remnant prayed for healing, and in His mercy the Lord heard their cries. He brought abundant blessing, cutting off Corona before it could carry out its full potential! But then do you know what we did?! The same people who had prayed for an end to the pandemic cursed it coming to an end. Instead of seeing God’s grace and answer to our prayers, they shouted, “I knew it was a hoax!”

That’s right. The Lord blessed His people with healing, but the devil whispered lies. The great deceiver laughed and laughed.

The Lord still allowed us to reap His blessing despite the blatant denial of His goodness. We began to see the cloud of COVID lift, case numbers go down, and communities opening back up. The light of the Lord’s favor was shining on our country once again. When the Lord blesses, the enemy will try and attack. Especially when the Lord is trying to show us His character, the enemy will come up with the next strategy to distract, divide, and blind.

Evil came to the forefront in a horrendous way, by act of murder. It started with Ahmaud Arbery and Breonna Porter, and came to an explosion with the tragic death of George Floyd. Satan wanted death and destruction, and he brought it by senseless violence. The Lord desires healing, truth, and justice, and He used the video evidence of the obvious murder of George Floyd to illuminate a very real problem in America. He utilized the work of Satan to try and bring some good from the devastation. He opened eyes to racism, that it still existed today, and He opened hearts to compassion and empathy for the marginalized, black community. People who had turned a deaf ear, buried their head in the sand, or simply been blinded by a spirit of apathy, suddenly could see what the black community had been screaming for years!

Once again we are faced with an option. Will we sleep, or will we wake up? Will we have eyes to see and ears to hear, or will we remain blind? Satan is tricky and he will use the cover of religion (over true relationship with Jesus) to keep God’s people asleep. Satan will use division, pride, and anything he possibly can. So, while we may think the devil simply uses bigotry and obvious racist behavior to serve his purposes, in reality he uses so much more. He can cause us to deny racism is an issue, or he can make us apathetic to the plight of others. He can keep us silent with fear of what others may think, or by injecting confusion into the issue.

False thoughts like these.

I don’t agree with violence and rioting, so therefore I can’t stand with Black Lives Matter.

But I believe all lives matter, therefore I can’t stand with Black Lives Matter.

I don’t think all cops are bad, so I can’t support the black community.

These are just a few examples of the confusion that seeps into our thinking, and we inadvertently allow the distractions to prevent us from carrying out God’s will for our world. We’ve gotta stop! We have to recognize the fact that it’s not flesh and blood we fight, but principalities and powers of darkness. We must walk in love, compassion, and humility, facing all pandemics, areas of injustice, and really, all issues with a kingdom mindset. We need eyes wide open, and we need to consider what is not only important to our society as a whole, but also to the souls of society. What brings salvation? Is it arguments over a difference of opinion, or is it a kind, humble heart that considers the feelings of another?

Do you know the biggest barrier to revival in our country? It’s us. In my vision I saw God pouring His Spirit into His children, but I’m afraid when we close our eyes to injustice, our hearts to compassion, and our lives to working together for good, we also close off the flow of His power and blessing. In the end, we all miss out. We all lose. But none so much as the lost who never get to see Jesus in us.

We All Need It

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Nothing like a big ole dose of humility shoved in your face to choke down the ego. Sure enough, like milk squirting out of my nose, I had made a mess of myself, a reminder that I was so much of a work in progress, that it wasn’t even funny.

It had started out good enough, I suppose. I had felt myself feeling constricted by time as I drove alone to the grocery store. I always went to the grocery store solo lately. I would rush through the aisles quickly and uncomfortably, with a ripple of unintentional nervousness running below the surface. I would wear a hot covering over my face in the 92 degree, sunny weather of Florida, and I would hope for things like paper towels and toilet paper. But even though grocery shopping had changed, that wasn’t what was making me feel harried, not all of it, at least.

I looked at the clock. I had one hour. I calculated the trip there, the trip back, and guesstimated how much time I’d allow myself to sprint through the aisles. The pool opened at 2pm, and it was 1:03. I’d have to hurry.

See, this had never been a thing before, but like most things we took for granted (like breathing easily and being ok with running out of hand sanitizer), the new pool rules were just another straw on the haggard camel’s back of new regulations status post the corona virus.

Look, I’m a nurse, so I totally got it. I supported it, in fact. I had championed flattening the curve, and I still voted yes on wearing face masks in public. I understood the “why” of the way things were, but that didn’t mean I hated them any less than the next guy. I hated that I couldn’t go to the pool when I wanted. I hated that there were now set blocks, in two hour increments, complete with a maximum number of allowed people at one time. But mostly, I hated being in a hurry. I hated feeling like I needed to rush. I had spent the past few years building a slow, relaxing life, and I hated that the past few months had upset my balance. I did not feel chill.

But more than I hated the inconvenience, I hated feeling anything but peace. So, I centered myself in Jesus. I said, “Brie, you will not feel angry or rushed today.”

Then I drove slowly over the speed bumps out of my neighborhood, quite content with my amazing knack for being so cool, calm, and collected, even when things weren’t going my way. I even told myself, “so what, if you don’t get to go to the pool. It’s just one day of swimming.”

Yes, that sounded good.

So, I did my shopping, even though I couldn’t slowly peruse that amazing aisle of stuff you never knew you needed at Aldi (and that was really annoying). A lady sat parked by the rubber rain boots for $9.99, not understanding I couldn’t look at those boots too at a safe social distance, but I thought I held my chill quite fabulously.

I drove home with sweat on my face, even though I shed my face mask as soon as the sun and stale air hit me, and I looked at the clock. 2:01pm. The pool had just opened, for what I might add was the last block of the day, and I tried not to be concerned.

“It’s fine,” I said. “I’ll just grab the girls when I get home, and we’ll go. After I put the groceries away. It won’t be full.”

Thirty minutes, or so, later I walked to the pool gate with my three daughters in tow, and I approached the “guard shack” at the gate.

The older man who had watched me approach from a sweltering journey of 50 yards away managed to look at his clipboard (and not my eyes) while he commented, “sorry, I only got room for one.”

I watched the jolly group of nineteen tan bodies bobbing in the cool, crisp, chlorinated water, and I said with as much joyful inflection as I could muster, “sorry, girls, we can’t go swimming. There’s no room for us.”

The grumbles began as we made the trek back to the already hot truck interior, and my eldest stomped ahead of us all with passionate disdain.

Suddenly, surprising even myself, I directed this comment to my angry middle schooler, “you know, this sucks for me too! I wanted to relax before I go to work tomorrow and wear a mask I can’t breathe in all day, but nope, not happening!”

I could have stopped there, but I didn’t. I’d like to say my raging rant didn’t continue after the truck doors closed, but that just wouldn’t be true. I’d like to forget that my raised voice, directed at the powers that be, made my four year old burst into tears, like I had projected them towards her, but I can’t seem to sweep it under the rug that easily. You could cut the tension with a knife as my nine year old messaged her neighborhood friend who planned on meeting us there, and I decided I was ready to cry right about the time the tears fell down my face.

“I have no right to be anyone’s parent,” I confessed to my husband at home, detailing the uncontrollable fit I had thrown in the vehicle. “How can I tell the girls not to overreact when I can’t even control my own self?!”

Want to hear the worst part? The message from my daughter to her friend read, “my mom is mad. I think it’s my fault cause I got mad.”

Insert knife in heart.

I read the message to my spouse, ready to burst into new tears. Bless his heart, my husband knew my hormones at the time weren’t helping matters, and he knew the stress that I (and all of us) had been under, but above all I think he understood my humanness. In all his calm understanding he tried to console me, and he tried to convince me not to be too hard on myself.

“Everyone has feelings,” he said. “We all get angry sometimes.”

Then he suggested I go back to the pool as the “one” allowed still to enter. I did say bless his heart, already, right?!

Five minutes later I sat by the water, and I texted my husband that more people might leave soon. I was having trouble getting over myself, and I still felt guilt for being a pot who tries to raise kettles not to be black. I mean, I could barely see the screen on my phone for the plank in my eye, or at least that’s how I felt. I texted that they could all join me soon, I was sure.

But he replied back, “maybe you just needed to hang out with Jesus today.”

I laughed back that, “I must need it.?”

He replied quite simply, “we all do.”

And that was the truth of it. I needed Jesus. Every minute of every day, I needed Him, cause on my own, I was a hot mess!

Y’all, I confessed pride. It was easy sometimes to think you had it all together. Like, I thought I knew what was important in life, and I scoffed at people who didn’t. I rolled my eyes at people who got upset over trivial matters. First World Problems, I called it, and over the last month or two, I had gotten pretty fed up with listening to people gripe about theirs. Just being honest. I had floated along through all the turmoil, and while it had been hard on me too, for the most part I tried to maintain. I knew that things could always be worse, and I tried to react to inconvenience with that in mind. In fact, I realized (or God revealed) sitting by the pool, that I had been pretty proud of myself for rolling with the punches. That is, until my emotions punched me right in the gut.

I had gotten upset over the very kind of thing I had chastised people for getting upset about! I had reacted poorly to personal inconvenience, and I wanted to slap me for it. How dare I stand and tell anyone to calm down when I couldn’t maintain my own feelings. How could I lecture my children when I acted like a child sometimes? And that was when I knew it even more than I did before. That’s when Jesus reminded me just how much I need Him. Without Him, I’m a mess, and I was humbled to remember that I fall so easy. I need Jesus. We all do.

This hasn’t been an easy year for any of us, and today I am reminded how fragile human emotions can be. I’m reminded of our need for the Rock of Salvation, that strong tower that keeps us steady in all of life’s storms. I don’t have it all together, and I shouldn’t expect more of anyone than I do of myself. Today may we all be reminded to lead with kindness. You never know how close another person is to losing their chill.

The # 1 Thing We’re Missing in America

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I guess you noticed I haven’t been sharing as much lately on the blog. Honestly, I’ve been overwhelmed. Not just overwhelmed with my work as a bedside, critical care nurse on the frontline of COVID-19, but also with my emotions. I have had all the feelings over the past couple of months, and many of them are ones I don’t enjoy having. It’s been kinda heavy, and I’ve spent much of my time not saying anything rather than saying something I regret. Too bad more people don’t practice that restraint.

I’ve felt sadness for the many, sick patients I’ve seen battling this pandemic, and my heart has broken for their families. I realize that I have firsthand experience with a disease process that many others do not. It’s unknown and scary, and perhaps that’s why it’s easier for so many people to have the luxury to be flippant or apathetic about the virus. After all, it is more comfortable to claim it all a hoax or government-inflated theatrics, than to admit the frailty of human life.

I’ve oscillated between frustration and red, hot anger, melancholy and disappointment at the selfishness of my fellow man. I have seen some of the most ignorant comments, and I’ve witnessed some pretty heinous statements on social media. Why does the ability to type an opinion trump the decency of treatment of others, or why do we put on blinders to the plight of another, in favor of our own inconvenience? In other words, why are we such a selfish lot?

Do you know what we’re missing in this unprecedented pandemic? Compassion.

We’ve replaced it with selfish ambition. We’ve allowed our perspective to become quite narrow, seeing no further than our own front door.

We see how uncomfortable wearing a mask can be, how difficult it is to breathe. We become angry at someone mandating we wear something to protect ourselves or others. It’s all about “my comfort and my right to refuse.” I suppose we’re refusing the right to protect the elderly and immune compromised from the virus we could be carrying. The fact that it makes you hot should definitely precede expert opinion that it prevents the spread of germs.

Why do healthcare professionals wear them, based on hundreds of years of tested research, if they don’t really work? Perhaps we should tell doctors, nurses, and anesthesiologists it’s not necessary to wear them anymore in the operating room. While we’re at it, let’s get rid of all those pesky seatbelt and car seat laws. My body, my right to fly through the windshield!

Our perspectives have become so skewed, whereas we only see how a situation affects us personally. We forget that things could be worse, and even that they definitely are for other people.

We see that we can’t work for weeks at a time. We never consider the families who have lost their primary breadwinner forever, to death by COVID.

And I know that financial stress and income loss is serious! But fifty days in the Intensive Care Unit, waking up to a hole in your neck, and muscles so wasted you cannot move, well, that’s pretty darn serious too. We don’t think about that, though. It hasn’t happened to anyone we know personally, so the news is probably making it up. I’ll go tell that to my patient’s family. They haven’t even seen their husband/father in over a month, since he was admitted.

We are such a spoiled society in the United States. We get mad at slow internet and red lights, so naturally we’re up in arms over having to stay at home. We have to stay within the four walls of our sturdy, comfortably thermostat-adjusted dwelling. We’re protected from the elements, stuffing our bellies with an abundance of stock-piled food, and all we can say is, “I miss going into a restaurant to eat!”

All over this world mothers are crying because their children are starving. Fathers feel helpless that they cannot put a roof over their families’ heads. Families are running barefoot, with a pack of meager belongings slung over their backs, and they’re running to escape real bullets of persecution. Not the figurative bullets we think we are enduring from being forced to stay safe at home. Our inconvenience is the stuff some people dream of having, but we will never consider that.

We miss going to the mall, never thinking to thank God we have such things normally. We get angry over our children missing school activities, or our seniors not walking on stage at graduation. Do we ever consider the families who have lost children to this virus? They will never see them walk across any stage. The number of deaths by Coronavirus under age 18 seem low, until it’s your child.

Pictured above is Skylar Herbert who passed away in Detroit from COVID-19. Her father was a first responder.

Do you know I’ve even seen comments that COVID-19 only strikes “nasty” people with bad hygiene? Hmmm. I don’t even know where to begin. I could say this virus is no respecter of persons, hitting all races and socioeconomic levels, but instead I’ll ask a question. Since when is it acceptable to say one type of person is more understandable and acceptable to die? Like, it’s their fault where or what they were born into, and therefore they are less. Does this sound familiar to anyone? Gosh, we’re not much different than Hitler if we’re judging whose life matters more.

This pandemic has been really hard for me. I’ve dealt with the stress of caring for patients with the virus who nine times out of ten don’t get better, but I have tried to never let it escape me how well I have it. When my face hurt from the mask and I couldn’t breathe, or when I got tired and frustrated with the hectic environment, I would remind myself that I wasn’t scared, alone, and/or dying in a hospital bed.

Do you know the saying about trying to walk in another’s shoes? Maybe we should all lay in another’s hospital bed. It’s easy to dismiss the statistics if they’re far from your town/city, or if you tell yourself that they’re exaggerated. It’s not so easy for my Chaplain who lost his father, my friend who currently has four family members fighting the virus, or the nurses like myself who have seen more patients die with it than they can ever forget. It’s the same as the flu for someone who sits safely behind their smart phone screen on social media, sharing YouTube videos of conspiracy theories. But for the fifty year old man struggling to breathe in my hospital bed, being told to turn upside down and lay on his stomach to try and breathe better, well, this man knows it’s not like the flu at all.

It’s easy to blame the government or even Bill Gates for everything that’s going on when you’re sitting in front of your computer, but do you know who doesn’t have time for such extracurriculars? The weeping wife, pleading to God to save her husband, as she prays into his ear through the hospital room phone, hoping he can hear her, even though he won’t open his eyes. Yeah, that was hard for me to witness, but I simply joined her in prayer.

Perhaps that’s what we should be doing. Instead of complaining, let’s try sympathizing. Let’s join people in prayer, let’s offer them hope. Heck, at least offer them your hoarded toilet paper. But don’t lessen their grief and horrible situation by petty, selfish complaints. Instead of coming up with theories of why the numbers aren’t as bad as predicted, let’s thank God for His mercy, for answered prayers, and that flattening the curve and social distancing were successful. Let’s be grateful for life, not grumbling that it’s not as perfect as we believe it should be. Let’s take a moment and recognize that all the stuff we get frustrated about in this situation (like lack of toilet paper and bored children) are way better than an unexpected funeral that you can’t attend.

Check On Your Nurse Friends. We Are Not Ok.

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I took a survey from my employer today, and as I went through the questions I was surprised by how easily I could answer one way or another. It was a survey for how the pandemic, COVID-19 was affecting us, and as I clicked each bubble I understood even more just how much things had changed. One question that stood out to me asked if I thought about work more when at home. The fact was I had always been proud of my ability to leave work at work. I am an extremely compassionate person, but after twenty years in healthcare I had learned that to keep my sanity intact, patient care needed to stay at the bedside. It would be there waiting when I returned. But today, as I pondered the question on the survey, I realized that had changed. Everything had changed.

It had really started to hit me, the weight of it all, a few nights ago. I sat in bed the night before work and I prayed. I felt so down, and the fact was I had for weeks. There was nothing wrong going on in my life. I wasn’t financially stressed. My marriage was amazing, my children healthy and adorable. I had absolutely nothing to be upset about, yet I was. The only out of place factor I could pinpoint? COVID-19.

Years ago I had come to a place in my nursing career where I absolutely loved my job. I considered patient care to be a privilege, and even on tough days I considered it a wonderful vocation. It was a calling, and I carried the task with a smile. This past week I noticed an unwelcome feeling coming over me. It was a feeling I hadn’t experienced in many years. It was dread. I was dreading the return to the critical care bedside. How could I dread something I loved so much? I cried out to God to bring back my joy for the field.

When I sat in bed praying to feel better I realized that all this was hitting me harder than I thought. I realized that even though I thought I was doing ok, I really wasn’t. Even though I thought I could handle stress well, I don’t guess I had ever experienced stress like this.

Typically, nursing is about healing. A patient comes in sick, and we make them better. That’s not COVID-19.

And yes, I had experienced lots of death and dying. It was part of the job. So it wasn’t the people dying that got me. It was the fact that most of them seemed to be dying. The ones that were in Critical Care, anyway. The prognosis of these people was horrible, and when you have to break that to a daughter who can’t talk to her mom, or even see her, it’s depressing.

I was used to elderly and debilitated patients dying, but this was different. I was seeing people my age, younger, or just a few years older, and they were not doing well at all.

Nursing had always been a career where I had to be careful with infectious disease. I frequently encountered illnesses I could pick up and take home if I didn’t use proper protection or hygiene, but this was different. It was so new, and I watched the information available change day by day. One minute it’s airborne, the next droplet. One day the CDC says one thing, the next day, something else. The suggested PPE (personal protective equipment) changed faster than I could keep up, and it became this constantly evolving situation. I sadly knew that each time I came to work things would be different than when I left.

Do I need to shower and change clothes at work? Is it in my hair? The questions I had to ask myself. Is a Level 1 mask good enough, or is a Level 3 safer? Wait, now you’re saying it’s aerosolized and I should definitely wear googles? Why didn’t anyone tell me that yesterday?

Am I bringing bad stuff home to my children? They’re so little still. The fact that our government and healthcare system was treating the response to this unlike anything I had ever encountered only added to my thoughts. I mean, your president says everyone needs to stay home. Except you. You need to run into it head on! Unless your patient’s heart stops. Then, don’t run; put on your PPE first. It was going against everything we had ever done as lifesavers!

Everyone was watching us. People whose sole job was to make sure we were protecting ourselves properly. And while I appreciated the effort, it also made you feel pretty odd. I mean, what kind of crazy crap makes hoards of upper management and administration watch your every move? What exactly were we dealing with? The answer to that seemed to change every day!

I never felt so helpless. Everything we tried seemed to be in vain. They typically weren’t getting better. One week this was the go-to drug of choice, the next week something else, and the next week the surprising news that none of it would improve outcomes. In fact, it might make it worse.

It didn’t matter that the mask or respirator hurt my face, left bruises and sores, or that it left me feeling drowsy and cloudy headed after so many hours on straight. It didn’t change the fact that I was paranoid about the seal, worried that the tiny virus could somehow get through.

The stress made me become the type of person I didn’t want to be, short tempered and easily frustrated. The high acuity of the severely critical patients forced me to become the kind of nurse I didn’t want to be, hurried, harried, just struggling to keep them alive, keep my head above the water. My shift would end and I’d be sure I had missed something, which drove me crazy, but at least they had lived through my shift. They would likely die after I left. The prognosis was always poor.

Seeing the fear in their eyes, or hearing the words, “am I going to die,” remembering those words after they were gone. Holding their hand, offering comforting, muffled words, but knowing you were no adequate substitute for their loved ones.

Speaking of loved ones. We had those too, and just this week my nine year old said sadly, “Mom, I don’t want you to go to work. I’m worried you’ll get sick.”

But then I also had loved ones who had no idea. As I was leaving work today it occurred to me that not many of my family members had called to check on me. It wasn’t their fault; they didn’t know. I had not told them the toll this pandemic was having on me, and that’s when I knew I needed to. I see Facebook posts of people who don’t even think the pandemic is real, or that it’s like the flu. They have the privilege of not knowing how hard this is hitting me and my coworkers. I don’t normally try to play a pity party or seek attention, but I realized that a lot of people just didn’t know. They didn’t know that we’re not ok.

I have spoken with my coworkers and peers, and all the ones I have questioned are feeling the same pressing weight as me. They’re tired, worn thin, worried, beyond the typical stress of saving lives on a daily basis. It’s beyond skipping lunch and bathroom breaks to keep someone from dying. That’s just a regular Thursday. This, this is different. This is harder.

I don’t know the answers, and I don’t know if things will ever be the same. I don’t know if there’s anything you can do to make it better for your nursing friends. You can pray. You can send us a message, drop off some toilet paper, or even just a long-distance hug. We need so many hugs right now, and social distancing is messing that all up. The typical outlets aren’t available to decompress, or the ways we deal with stress are not allowed. Nurses have the added weight of homeschooling, when that’s not something they are used to, or a spouse out of work. We’re dealing with all the same stress and aggravation as the rest of the population, but also the additional stress of facing this monster up close and personal.

We can’t pretend it’s not happening or busy ourselves with conspiracy theories. We’re too preoccupied with telling ourselves, “it’s not your fault. You did everything you could do.”

This is all I can write right now. There’s more, so much more, but I am exhausted after a day of the above. I need to lay down so I can wake up and do it again. See, that’s the great thing about nurses. We are not ok, but you’ll still find us when you need us. We’ll be in the clinics, ER’s, and units ready to do all we can do for those who need us. We’ll worry about us later.

COVID and the Cross

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Today we celebrated (at home) my favorite holiday, Easter. For Christians this isn’t about bunnies and colored eggs (even though that’s fun stuff), but more importantly it’s about the Resurrection of our Savior. Even the most wayward believer will feel the emotion pulling at their eyelids on this day, the day we remember that Jesus died on the cross to free us from sin. I mean, what other person can you think of who would ask their Dad, a Father who controls the rising of the sun and the ocean’s waves, to forgive the people who just conspired to kill Him? I think most of us would ask Poppa to teach those guys a lesson they wouldn’t soon forget. But alas, that just wasn’t part of the plan, was it? Nope. The plan from the beginning was to save men (and women) who didn’t know they needed saving, to save people who didn’t deserve saving, and even to save the stubborn who didn’t want saving. That’s love.

As I was praying in the Spirit today I felt like God told me that we’re all the prodigal son. Remember that story? He left home, spent his inheritance in record time, and came back with his tail between his legs just hoping for a job as a servant and a little crust of bread. But instead of his father giving him the third degree, or saying “I told you so, son,” he welcomed him with open arms. Then he threw him a party. His father gave him the best of what he had, even though he had squandered his own portion. That’s love.

We, the collective prodigals, love our Father. We know the sacrifice of His son. Yet we waste the inheritance we’ve been given, even though it’s the only thing we can take with us to Heaven. Instead of holding the gift from our Father of peace and security in Him while walking through this life, we chase the pleasures of this world. We forget the courage He has placed within us, and instead fear the unknown around us, never remembering that He controls it all. And worse yet, we place most of our value on things of zero kingdom value. We might as well be lying in the filth of the pig pen, since we’ve forgotten the royal heritage from which we come.

You know, I’ve really enjoyed the side effects of this recent pandemic. Sure, I wish I could go to the water park, especially since it’s 90 degrees in Florida today, but I must say I enjoy the not going. Something about going, it brings out that hurried nature. And I’m not saying I love the sickness that consumes so many. I am a nurse, after all, and I’ve seen firsthand the terrible trauma caused by this virus. It makes my heart weep. But I’ve also seen the ability it’s had to make us stop and be still. Now that is what we needed.

Hunger made the prodigal son run home to his Poppa, and a similar hunger has taken hold in our country. I’ve seen people run to God in their fear, uncertainty, and desperation. And even though we deserve a stern “I told you so, son,” He never even considers it. He just embraces us.

I’ve seen families sit down and talk, like, really talk. They’re no longer too busy to have a conversation.

I’ve seen people stop and enjoy a sunset since they’re no longer rushing about, too busy to see everyday blessings.

Children are home with their parents, spouses are taking a break from work, and they’re all seeing the beauty of time spent together. The world had gotten so busy, I think we forgot how special that is.

I’ve seen Christians begin to move in their spiritual gifting, myself included, as if we just needed that little push to make us more courageous.

I’ve seen humanity open its self to others. And even though there’s the selfish few taking more than they need, more than that I’ve seen an influx of giving. We’ve been forced to slow down and see the needs of a neighbor. We’ve had our eyes opened to how blessed we each are in our own way, and it’s encouraged us to share that blessing with someone else.

I’ve seen people realize that we don’t need department stores and malls to enjoy life. We don’t need amusement parks and sit down dining at its finest. In fact, I think people are suddenly understanding the sanctity of life. We want health, wellness, security, and safety! Y’all, this COVID-19 pandemic has changed us. We see the numbers rise, people dying, young and old alike, and we finally appreciate the gift of each unlabored breath we’re given.

Today, as we celebrated Easter, I was reminded how the Resurrection changed everything! The frightened apostles who had run from the Romans, even going so far as to deny their association with that man Jesus, suddenly became bold proclaimers of the truth that He is the Savior of the world. The curtain was torn, and what normally took the blood of an animal and a High Priest now was accomplished by the blood of one man. What used to be an annual sacrifice for forgiveness now became a sacrifice once and for all. It. Was. Finished. He sealed the deal, defeating death, covering the sins of mankind, and giving us the right to be called children of God. The separation was gone. He gave us a way to the Father, and He gave us a way to live life abundantly until we joined them at the banquet table. His rising from the dead changed everything!

Do you know what the resurrection and this pandemic have in common? Change. This virus is unprecedented, and I think that despite all the negatives surrounding it, it’s changed us for the better. God has a way of doing that, you know, using what the devil means for evil for our good instead. This virus has forced us to slow down, to take an inventory of our lives, and to see what’s really important. Guess what? As much as I love a clean bum, toilet paper ain’t it. The people that surround me, and even the people I’m currently social distancing from, that is what’s important. Life is about knowing God and making Him known. It’s about showing His love. It’s about preparing our hearts for eternity with Him, and it’s about taking everyone along that we can.

While I was praying earlier I also thought about a refiner’s fire. You see, it takes heat not just to bend and shape metal for a greater purpose, but to purify it so that it will be stronger and more valuable than before. A metalsmith was once asked how he knew when his piece he was working with got hot enough to be completely refined, and he answered, “when I can see my reflection in it.” I think perhaps God wants to see more of Himself in His children, and less of the world. Disease doesn’t come from God, it’s from the devil, but I think God has used the heat of this pandemic to purify His children. The question now becomes, what will we do with the finished product?

The resurrection has changed life and death for good!

1 Corinthians 15:55

Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?

My prayer would be that we would all remain changed from this virus too. COVID-19 was recently compared to 9/11. I remember that day. I was active duty Navy, and the effects of that day will carry with me always. I can recall being so proud of how the Country and all the people in it came together following such tragedy. It was amazing! But then we forgot. People went back to being selfish and uncaring, and really, it’s only gotten worse in the past decade. We have become so hard hearted, a society that only cares about numero uno, but over the past two weeks I’ve seen a glimmer of that past compassion I remember. I’ve seen it in hand-sewn face masks and the kind words given to the healthcare community. I’ve seen it in donated food items to those in need and to record online church attendance. Folks that normally won’t step into a church building are listening to sermons on Facebook, and they’re understanding that in bad times, God is good. People are seeing their need for God, and like the prodigal son whose growling stomach compelled him, the hungry hearts of hurting humans are crying out for the peace and fulfillment of the Lord!

Perhaps this fire (virus) is going to continue until God sees more of Himself in us. Perhaps He’s just waiting for all His children to run home. I think He’s got the fatted calf all picked out, and even the best of royal robes. He is calling the prodigals to return, and He is desiring our change in heart, a heart that turns to Him. He’s allowing this to burn into our memories so that we don’t forget. He’s allowing it to change us, and He’s allowing us to be the change. I pray that things never return to “normal.” At least, not what the world was calling normal lately. I pray we are changed by this pandemic, and I pray it’s a heart change that will last forever, making us to never be the same lost generation that is distracted by the shiny, counterfeit trinket the world’s been serving, rather than accepting the precious, eternal treasure our Father gives.

What COVID-19 Has Done for the Church

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Do you see what COVID-19 has done for the church? No, it’s not that it’s given it that push to get on social media. And it’s not about whether to meet, the importance of staying connected (although that’s important), or even the gumption to broadcast services live. What I’m talking about actually has nothing to do with whether a building has its doors opened or closed, or whether the government is skating too close to infringing on constitutional rights. It has nothing to do with religious organizations and everything to do with your relationship. Because, I’ll tell you a secret. You are the church. Allow me to explain.

Recently a coworker asked me how I had gotten to such a strong level of faith in my life. The person was pleasantly surprised when I said it wasn’t a switch that was flipped in my life, or even an overnight ordeal, but rather years of seeking and growth. I relayed the story of how my growing closer to Jesus had began.

Somewhere around 2010 I came across a wonderful opportunity at work. It was a weekend position that allowed me to work only 24 hours a week, while still getting paid for 40 hours. Pretty sweet, right? I had a baby, and another on my wish list, so working part time for full time pay was a God-send! The only problem? I would agree to work every weekend. While Saturday wasn’t a problem for me, Sunday was a lot harder. For one, I loved my church. My father-in-law was our pastor, and I worried how they would feel about the position.

It turns out, my father-in-law didn’t mind. He knew something I was about to learn. He knew something COVID-19 is trying to teach us all. He understood that a personal relationship with Jesus wasn’t found on Sunday morning alone, and he felt pretty confident in the Lord’s ability to show me just that.

My biggest concern after I took that weekender job? I worried my relationship with the Lord would suffer missing Sunday mornings, so I determined that it would not! How did I do that? I made the choice to seek the Lord more closely each and every day. I couldn’t go to church on Sunday, and my small congregation didn’t meet any other time. So I went to church Monday morning on my couch. I went to church Tuesday morning while I sipped my coffee. I went to church Wednesday morning while I fed my baby. I think you’re getting the point.

Ten years ago my life began to turn around for the better because I made a decision. I decided that since I couldn’t go to church, I would bring church to me! I started to set aside time daily to read my Bible, seek the Lord, pray, and listen to His voice. And we as a country are being given this same chance now! We are being told to stay home, and we have the opportunity to use that time wisely. We’re not just in a time in our lives where we can’t go to church. We’re in a time of our lives where we can bring church home. We can bring it into our hearts!

Even after I switched jobs and could attend worship with others on Sunday mornings, it was too late! My life had already changed, thank the Lord. I had begun to manifest the fruits of the Spirit. It wasn’t just my schedule that had changed. My personality had changed. I found that a life where I saturated myself with scripture, was a life where I could be more joyful and triumphant. I learned how to deal with the world’s problems according to the Bible’s answers. In those pages I discovered how much my Savior loved me, and sadly and honestly, I had spent ten years in church on Sundays as a child/teenager, never learning that truth. Salvation, discipline, and true life change aren’t always found in a building. And a deep relationship that changes you from the inside out, rarely is. Life change is found in time with Him.

This pandemic has given us all the rare opportunity to seek Him more. It has forced upon us the need to be fed at home, and I’m not talking about sustenance you get from the grocery store. I’m talking about the kind of spiritual food that will leave you never hungry again. It’s the kind of bread that gives you life, abundant life at that, and it fills you so full that fear can’t fit there. It fills you so overflowing that the uncertain circumstances surrounding you don’t stand a chance. It’s the Manna that God sends down from Heaven, and when you taste and eat you understand that He always provides just enough.

Do you know what the church (meaning the physical building AND all of us as the bride of Christ) needs? We need to learn how to be mature. God doesn’t intend for us to stay babies, being fed our spiritual bottle on Sunday mornings, thinking that will keep us full all week! He calls us to eat meat. He wants us to be self-feeding, steak-chewing, garden-growing, fruit-baring farmers. Y’all, it’s like He wants us to be homesteading harvesters who water where we’re planted. Of course He wants believers gathering together and supporting one another! Don’t get me wrong; this isn’t a church-bashing post. No, what this is is a reminder that we are the church, and we are called to grow the church. The fact is, it’s hard to grow a crop when all you do is eat the fruit. If you’re wanting to harvest, like God calls us all to do, then you have to start planting seeds, and folks forget you begin by planting the seeds in you.

So, I would encourage you to take advantage of this time. See it for what it is. It’s an opportunity, much like the one I experienced ten years ago, to seek the Lord so you don’t lose Him. Y’all, He’s not hard to find. We’re just usually so distracted by all the noise that we miss Him, but perhaps now is a National Call to Quiet. Perhaps Christ is calling us all away from the noise and into His arms. We have been given the chance to bring church into our hearts, the place where God has wanted it built all along. Don’t miss the positive change we can bring from such a negative time in our history. Don’t miss out on the greatest opportunity of all. To build His Church in you.

Interceding for Our World: Part II

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If you missed part one, I’ll include the link here. I have continued to pray in the Spirit, by God’s leading, for things I don’t even know until I pray. It’s come to my attention that some brothers and sisters are praying along with me, so I wanted to catch you up on my prayer time. I guess you could call this a prayer log.

4/2/20 Prayers in the Spirit

I saw a massive crowd of people. They were on their knees bowing in surrender and worshipping the Lord. They were of one voice, one Spirit, one heart, joined in one purpose, to exalt the King. They worship in sync and in joy. Their hearts joined powerfully in the Spiritual Realm giving power to the One. I saw His Spirit come down on His people, like the day of Pentecost. Nations of believers joined for one purpose, in Spirit and truth, loving the King.

4/3/20

This morning was a little painful and emotional as I felt like I was interceding for the fallen world as a whole, again. As if I stood in the gap pleading for mercy. A world that deserves fire and damnation, yet children who cry out to the Father for His love. Isn’t that what we’re all missing? I had heard a song this morning with the lyrics singing, “a second chance is Heaven’s heart,” and that was my heart this morning. It’s also the heart of the Father.

John 3:17 For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. I cling to the truth of His word, and I sing the banner of His loving mercy over our land.

4/4/20

While praying this morning I felt like it was in a Spirit of worship. I was worshipping an unchanging God. One whose word stands forever. A Father who is the same today, yesterday, and forever. His love is constant. We are the ones who waver. As I prayed I saw a grassy plain, and rippling over it a banner (perhaps similar to images you’ve seen of a waving American flag), but instead of Stars and Stripes, it was a rainbow banner. The color of God’s covenant. Although originally a covenant to not destroy by flood, I felt the covenant still stood. That our God would not destroy us from the earth. His banner, His unchanging covenant, covers us today.

4/6/20

I see reports of grim circumstances coming our way as a country, death numbers exceeding what has come thus far, tragedy to compare to the worst disasters we, or our grandparents have ever seen. I’m not surprised now for the prayers I prayed today.

Today in prayer I proclaimed our God as the solid rock. Unwavering, unmovable, a strong foundation upon which we could stand as we tried to climb out of the pit of despair. I pictured a man climbing a mountain. The mountain was God, and as long as the climber found firm footing on that solid rock beneath him, he did not fall.

I saw a vineyard, and the Lord said, “become grafted into me. Become part of my vine, and I will nourish you. My strong roots will feed you, giving you everything you need to bear fruit.”

Later I took a bicycle ride, and I prayed some more. I could feel Him in the breeze in my hair. I could feel His love in the sun that warmed my arms. He was everywhere. He is everywhere. He is the only thing that is sure right now.

I don’t know about projections. I mean, I have my opinions, and I have felt for some time that this will not be like man predicts. The breath of God in Hebrew is Ruach, and my husband and I believe His Ruach will blow across the land taking the virus with it. We could be wrong, but I don’t have to know. I don’t have to make predictions or projections because I serve the King of the Universe, and He is the rock on which I stand. If I were to die today, I would still live. What can trump that?

I guess I’m trying to say, don’t focus on the noise of the world. Focus instead on the rock.

4/7/20

Today I felt as if my prayers were a sonnet, a romantic song serenading the lover of my soul.

I saw a couple dancing, spinning, laughing, heads thrown back in abandon and joy.

“My love for you,” the Lord said, “it cannot be fathomed.”

It’s a love like no other, a love that cannot be compared. It’s a love free for the taking, yet a love that gives and gives. It’s a love that separation cannot even defeat. You see, sin tried to separate us from His love, but He wasn’t having it. He gave of Himself, His own son, His own life, a ransom, paid in full for His bride.

For me.

For you.

This is a love that isn’t swayed by disease, poverty, or uncertainty. If you can call out to this love, and ask Him to bring you an understanding of it, you will laugh in the face of a current world that’s gone mad. You can rest in the peace of His love, you can walk through each day bravely in the shelter of His love, and you can hope for the future in the illuminating light of His love. Nothing can separate us from it.

Romans 8:38-39 (NIV)

38 For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,[a] neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, 39 neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

As I prayed I said, “oh, Lord, let the earth, let them all know this kind of love!!”

And He answered, “that is what I’m doing.”

I hope you will join me in this frequent intercession, and together we can worship a very good Father who knows our every need. May we, the Saints, link spiritual arms, and hold spiritual hands to pray for our planet, to pray for the souls therein, and to pray for God’s will here on earth, as it is in heaven.

COVID-19: An Inside Look

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Perhaps it’s because I’m a registered nurse working the bedside of this virus, but I feel like I’ve seen plenty of information about what it’s like for healthcare workers fighting this COVID-19 fight. I’ve seen stories about violence towards people in scrubs out there, but personally I’ve received nothing but support and encouragement. Most of my friends know about our struggles with personal protective equipment (PPE), be it the fears it will run out or the frustration with the ever-changing guidelines of safety by the CDC. People have seen the struggles nurses and others have wearing the same masks for twelves hours or more straight, and aside from them seeing the bruises and pressure sores on my face, I’ve told my family how the continuous wear causes me to feel fuzzy-headed and drowsy (not a good feeling for a critical care nurse).

We (as a healthcare team) mostly keep quiet about the inconveniences of no bathroom or water breaks. I mean, it’s just how it is. Another straw to add to the back of an already sagging camel. Yet, despite any struggles we face physically, or even the fears we attempt to overcome mentally, it’s been so helpful to have the praise and support of family and friends. I know they see me, and they try to sympathize with the war we’re waging against this tricky contagion. I guess, what I’m trying to say is, I feel like a lot of thoughts and prayers have been directed my way, but recently my heart has been breaking for the patients I serve.

If you could see inside my little world, behind smudged googles and hot breath, you would see how COVID is attacking more than our ability to go to the mall, or even beyond our inability to pay bills. You see, this pandemic is more than being forced to stay home, schooling your children, or even (sadly) being unable to gather with your church or extended family. I saw it went beyond missing my baby brother’s wedding, or not being able to find our favored toilet paper. Because beyond sinking stocks and failing businesses were people dying. Scared, alone, and confused.

If you could stand here beside me you would see the real effects of COVID-19. You’d see the frightened eyes of a patient when a crowd of strangers rush into the room, moving quickly, with a sense of urgency. You’d glimpse the fear the patient exuded over all the people surrounding them in hoods, masks, and billowing gowns. The worst part about a mask? They can’t see you smile.

If you stood in my shoes you would hold a patient’s hand with your own gloved one, attempting to offer comfort, wiping away a stray tear, patting their arm compassionately.

“You’re doing so good. It’s ok. Don’t be afraid.”

While foreign tubes are being inserted, with language barriers in place, you’d try to explain why rolling onto your belly in the hospital bed is needed to perhaps help getting a breath be less excruciating.

If you sat at my desk you’d try and calm a family member, over the phone only, since visitors aren’t allowed.

If you stood outside the glass fishbowl, like me, watching lifesaving procedures being performed in unprecedented ways, to keep staff contamination at bay, you’d feel your heart break while staff worked feverishly to sedate the anxious patient, just prior to passing down a endotracheal breathing tube. If you could read the patients frantic thoughts at that moment just prior to sweet sleep, you would be certain he wondered worriedly, “what if I never wake up?”

Because people aren’t waking up.

Y’all, I can’t understand all this. It’s not like anything we’ve ever known, and I’m sure you’re getting that Sci-Fi movie vibe too. As if we’re walking through a dream we can’t wake from, we all feel that surreal mood. It’s hard for everyone, and we all feel the sting, but we have to remember to feel more than just how this is affecting us personally. We gotta try to imagine how it’s impacting the world at large, how we’re all hurting in one way or another. Because, you see, it’s our ability to empathize with another than binds us, and if we can stand together (even as we’re physically apart), we will stand stronger when the dust settles. Eventually it will.

Who Do You Say I Am? A Guide to Victory in Pandemic.

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Easter is quickly approaching, and it seems we’ll still be under social distancing at that time. I know for many Christians they may have never spent an Easter Sunday not in church, and I was reminded this morning of an Easter Sunday I spent at the hospital bedside years ago. I recall being disappointed that I wasn’t in the house of God that holiday, and it was then that the Lord spoke something very strongly to my heart.

He said, my resurrection lives in you.

With all the happenings globally as of late, I am reminded of His Spirit at work in us. And with all the common reactions to this pandemic, I am reminded of some lyrics I heard in a song recently.

It said, God isn’t hard to find.

I suppose that seems way off base to many people, especially lately. After all, so many times God seems silent. When tragedy strikes, like now, He can especially seem distant. But when I heard those lyrics the other morning I was hit by the truth of it. You see, God isn’t hard to find. It’s just hard for us to do the locating. We’re too distracted by the world to realize that He is here with us all along.

It’s not hard to see the fear out there. It’s not hard to feel it yourself. I realized after a four day stretch at the hospital bedside that I was overwhelmed with the very realness of all this. I was inundated with COVID-19 statistics, the ever-changing instructions for how to deal with it all. Uncertain and evolving information from the CDC and those in power above me made my head spin. I discovered pretty quickly that I had to be intentional in my time with Jesus, because everything else vying for my focus was pretty intense. Not only were the worries of having enough food to eat there, or how the economy would suffer, but also the real threat of taking home a dangerous illness to my family.

This morning, and last night, I was drawn to the book of Matthew. I read it before bed, but also again this morning,

Matthew 16:15-16 (NIV)

15 “But what about you?” he asked. “Who do you say I am?”

16 Simon Peter answered, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”

As Easter approaches I’m reminded of the days leading up to the Crucifixion. Jesus enters Jerusalem with much fanfare and praise, the crowds singing and proclaiming Him a king. Yet five days later the same words of “King of the Jews,” were used to find Him guilty and sentenced to death. Public opinion was a shifty one, indeed, and it’s in Matthew 16 we see Jesus gently leading Peter to the realization that it’s not what the crowd says that matters.

Who do you say I am?

This is becoming a question that Jesus asks us all. Who is the Lord to us during such a time as this? Is He an angry God, distant, pouring a plague on His people, only to forget them as they suffer? Or is He the Messiah, the Savior of the world?

In the midst of COVID-19 and the fallout of this pandemic, it’s hard not to be afraid. We see the news, the growing numbers of infected, and of course, the personal stories and accounts coming from those working in the thick of this illness. Some of us see dwindling bank balances and empty cupboards. Others see plummeting stocks, or death up close and personal. I’m reminded again of our dear disciple Peter. He knew, before it all went down, that Jesus was the Son of God. He spoke it out loud in faith, yet we all remember what happened before the cock crowed three times. He denied Jesus. It’s a disappointing turn of events in scripture, yet Jesus still fulfilled what He spoke in Matthew 16. He still built the church on the rock that was Peter. That’s good news for us!

When Jesus spoke about building the church, with a mere man who He knew would deny Him down the road, He spoke this.

The gates of Hell will not overcome it!

Today, we face the straining of Hell coming against us. A spirit of death and sickness come in a virus form, and a spirit of fear tries to make us deny (or forget) the power of our God, but Jesus promises that evil does not win. It can not overcome us!

Another verse comes to me as I write this post.

Psalm 121:1-2 (NIV)

I lift up my eyes to the hills– where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth.

As believers, we can find God. It’s not hard, after all. He is here in us. He has not forgotten us, and actually has promised our victory. He doesn’t want us in fear, denying the power He gives us to overcome problems, but He does still provide us victory, knowing we will have our doubts. Today, I would remind you to ask of yourself the same question that Jesus asked Peter.

Who do you say I am?

Is He the rising infection rates or empty store shelves? Is He the dwindling economy or uncertain future? Is He the depressing news reports or scary Facebook posts? No! None of this is a surprise or uncertain to our God. He is the Messiah, the Savior of the world, the Great I Am, and He will! Be encouraged.