The One Thing We Know

We don’t know how many people will be infected with this new coronavirus. We don’t know how many people will die from it. We don’t know how many people will lose their jobs, or how many businesses will go under. We don’t know when the stock market will recover. We don’t know when sports teams will play again. We don’t know when we will be able to travel again. We don’t know if people will ever feel comfortable shaking hands again. We don’t know if the elderly will ever feel confident joining large groups again. We don’t know if and when scientists will develop a vaccine against the virus.

When will we be able to have a barbecue with friends again?

When can we worship together again?

Will life return to the normal we knew before, or will it be forever changed?

Psalm 46 imagines a time of even greater upheaval – what if the mountains fell into the sea? The writer seems to be imagining the “uncreation” of the world, when everything that seems so stable is shaken to the core and comes undone? What if gravity were switched off and everything fell apart? The Psalmist says that even if this happens, “We will not fear.”

This fearlessness is not universal. “Nations are in uproar,” the writer states. True. A lot of my news comes from the BBC app on my phone. Three days ago I counted 38 out of 46 articles had to do with the coronavirus. It’s all people talk about.

The uncertainty is unavoidable. And uncertainty can breed anxiety. There is so much that we do not know.

There is one thing that we do know. In the Psalm, we hear the voice of God, saying, “Be still, and know that I am God.”

In a time of contagion we practice selflessness by staying to ourselves. Strange, but this is how it is. There is an opportunity here to press pause. What is life about? What matters? The deep question of the Psalm is this: what is ultimate reality? The answer is simple, profound, mind-bending, and life-changing. If the reality that seems so stable falls apart, the deeper reality endures forever.

“Be still, and know that I am God.”

In the waiting, I really miss the company of friends. This feels like the longing we have for heaven itself. There are too few worship songs about the sufferings of life and the confidence of heaven. We Will Feast in the House of Zion is a good one.  “For the promised morning, O how long?”