Any Day But Sunday: One Introvert's Hunger for Community in an Isolating World

"Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess,

 for he who promised is faithful.  

And let us consider how we may spur one another on 

toward love and good deeds, 

not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, 

but encouraging one another 

-- and all the more as you see the Day approaching."

Hebrews 10:23

As an introvert who already works from home, there are many ways in which our current time of isolation doesn't change too much of the day-to-day for me.  Notwithstanding the first flurry of figuring out child care for grandchildren and the implications of cancelled meetings, and with great and serious respect for how so many are suffering, and how so many are working way harder than usual, I am just not having to adjust to all of this to the same degree as probably most of the population.

Honestly, mostly, my life isn't all that upended.  

Except.

We won't be gathering for worship tomorrow.

This is an extraordinary time for the contemporary Church.  No one pastoring or leading us in any capacity has had to navigate these waters before.  We weren't taught anything about this in any of our training.  We're having to re-think everything at core levels.   Technology is being pressed to the max, and mostly, so far, it seems that's been our first default.   We'll have church 'on line'.  We'll stay connected 'on line'.  

These days my perspective is more of that as a worshipper and not a church leader.  And I applaud and support and pray for all the beautiful, creative ways pastors and others are trying to figure this out.  There will be more figuring out going on in the weeks and months to come, no doubt.  And we will show our maturity and love by being patient and full of grace as we walk this together and let our leaders lead us.

But let's be real.  

There is no adequate substitute for the physical presence of community;  all together in one place at one time.  All of us lifting our voices to sing together, pray together, learn and listen together, embrace one another, see each other's faces.  Receiving Communion, the Elements of our Redemption...together. Knowing and being known.  Holding up mirrors of affirmation and validation and our identity in Christ to one another, just by being present with one another.

There's. No.  Adequate.  Substitute.

I know this because I've done it before.  Six months I was absent from my community.  This was necessary and healthy and I would do it exactly the same if I had the chance to do it over.  But it was also it's own kind of agony.

No amount of on line sermons or listening to worship music on my own eased the emptiness for me.  It was a prolonged time of fasting, and I experienced it as such.  Deprivation of something desperately longed for.

And tomorrow there will be no gathering of worship.  Not for me.  Not for anyone.  

This is just the first Sunday of this, and it already feels like it was way longer ago than last Sunday that I got to be together with my beloveds.  

Who knew that we'd be fasting from Church for Lent?

So, I dread what's coming for Sundays.  Any other day, I can manage.  But on Sundays it will feel like this pandemic has upended me.

And I embrace what's coming for Sundays.  Because any other day, I probably won't feel it so much.  But on Sundays I will be forced to feel the pain of love, the disorientation of alienation, and the absence of a familiar way of experiencing the presence of God.  A little bit like Jesus hanging on the cross.  So I embrace how this will again press me into understanding this part of His suffering, and thereby, hopefully, by the grace of God, let it form me just a little bit more into the likeness of the Son.  

I love you so much, beautiful community of faith.

Don't worry.  My heart is so encouraged by the resiliency I'm already seeing in us.

We do indeed need to hold unswervingly to the hope we profess.

And we can consider oh so many new ways to spur each other on toward love and good deeds in these unusual times.

And even though we can't be together face to face,

we can be together in solidarity and love and strength.

I'm percolating with so many ideas.

I know you are too.

But I'll save that for tomorrow's posting.

Meanwhile, just know, when I wake up on Sunday, I will be missing you terribly.