March 15th was supposed to be an exciting Sunday where Adam preached the 1:00 service at the Brooklyn Tabernacle. Adam and I were going to stay in New York City for four days, while the kids stayed with a friend. The day before we were scheduled to leave, we heard the news that we had been nervously anticipating: The governor of New York had banned gatherings of five hundred or more, and so our trip was canceled. A few days later we were supposed to spend a week in San Diego—a family vacation, but also a time to see several very dear friends, and once again, Adam was going to preach at a church. We thought we could pull this one off. Adam would co-preach with the pastor via video, and we would meet friends in an open area of a park. If anything, we could quarantine at the Airbnb right on the coast that someone had gifted us for a week and just go the beach. But the night before we were supposed to go, the governor of California called for a statewide lockdown, and we felt we needed to follow it. Another trip canceled. Another disappointment. The next two days I found myself curled on the couch, watching the news and feeling frozen in time.
We were so looking forward to seeing many more friends and spending more time with family. Our time in the states is precious, and we feel robbed because this rare opportunity is now being taken away from us. Though we are grateful for our apartment, it feels small. We felt stir crazy after just the first week of lockdown, and we will most likely have several more weeks, if not months, to go.
When I finally braved the grocery store, I was shocked by the empty shelves. It had been a while since I had gone to the store, and I guess I thought that once the hoarders calmed down, people would return to shopping as normal. But I was wrong. Despite the many empty shelves, I was able to get almost all the food I needed. I guess there isn’t a run on broccoli and green beans. That day at the grocery store left me feeling sad, but fear came the next day. All of a sudden I began to look at our food supply. We have plenty of food, but what if the grocery stores really do run out? I regretted not buying those pinto beans I saw, and those noodle packets. I should have gotten potatoes. What was I thinking? My kids forgot to eat lunch that day, and I was secretly thankful.
Fear is a funny thing. It is like a small animal living inside your head. If you give it enough food, it will grow. I feed my fear with what if statements. What if my dad, sister, or husband gets sick? What if we can’t get back to PNG before Jacob’s 10th grade year begins? (He hates online school.) What if our support goes down? And of course, what we are all worried about, what if I can’t find toilet paper? I could sit and watch the news all day and grow that fear exponentially, or, I can feed it something else. I can feed it hope, faith, and trust. How do I do that? By looking at all the ways God has orchestrated his timing, and by being thankful for the gifts that have sprouted during this crisis.
This virus could have happened while we were overseas, but it didn’t. I am in awe of God’s timing to allow us to be here to look after my niece while my sister is at work, and to be close to my dad in case he gets sick. I can’t imagine being halfway across the world from my family during something like this. Our furlough was becoming busier and busier, and I wasn’t spending as much time with my niece as I had hoped. But now we will be spending lots of time with her, and I have the opportunity to help her with her reading and math. Our lives were super busy before this, and it seemed like we had something planned for every day. That was hard on the kids. Though I am saddened by so many canceled times with friends, we can also appreciate the slow and calm life for a season. These are gifts that I am grateful for.
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| Jacob, Bella, and Asher at the park with their cousin Somaya two days before the lockdown order in California |
In many ways living in PNG has prepared us for living in social isolation and grocery store shortages. In PNG, no eggs and bread in the store are regular occurrences, and every year the store shuts down for two weeks over Christmas break, and for two more weeks during the annual stock take. We must buy enough food and plan meals to last that whole time. Cooking every night and not going to restaurants is a way of life for us on the mission field. We are used to it. I could complain that once again we were robbed from the wonderful freedom of eating out during furlough, but since it is March, and we have been here since July, our plumper bodies testify to that lie. The funny thing is, just the other day I told Adam I had tasted all the food I wanted to taste. The sense of urgency and thrill of eating out is gone. (But I would be lying if I said I didn’t still love the convenience.)
One day before all this talk about Coronavirus, I was reading the book of James, and the word endurance stood out to me like a neon sign: “Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles of any kind come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing.” I read a little further and there it was again: “God blesses those who patiently endure testing and temptation.” There are a lot of things you can take from those verses, but for me, the word endure continued to stand out. I ended up lingering in the book of James for a while and wondering with a bit of nervousness what it was that God was going to have me endure. I had pretty much forgotten about it until a couple of weeks ago while video chatting with a friend about the spiritual aspects of this virus. All of a sudden it became clear what God was telling me I would have to endure. Never in my wildest dreams did I think it would be a worldwide pandemic.
So far, enduring hasn’t been that difficult. It has been inconvenient, disappointing, and lonely, but we are safe and healthy, and we have everything we need, including toilet paper—for now. The hard part is trying not to worry about what the future holds. The hard part is hearing your 14-year-old say, “I hope we can go back in July. I don’t want to stay here any longer.” And all you can say is, “I know you do.” It is hard not to imagine worst case scenarios of close family members dying or having long hospital stays. And when I think about this virus possibly hitting Papua New Guinea in full force, it hurts my heart.
Just when I thought I was finally getting somewhere in my spiritual life with trusting God, He reminds me that I still have a long way to go. There is so much in this world that we have come to depend on instead of Christ. Our health care system, our jobs, and our investments to name a few. We lean on the things of this world, but God’s word tells us not to rely on the things of this world, but to depend on Christ alone. Never before has this message rung so true, as we are seeing firsthand how fleeting the things of this world really are.
This pandemic is a test of our faith and a chance for all of us to grow as we patiently endure. I still believe that God is in control. He is our solid rock, and our anchor. He has not moved or changed. He is still with us and will not abandon us. Let us put our hope and trust in Christ alone, because when our jobs are gone, and our hospitals are full, and our bank accounts are empty, the Lord will continue to provide his eternal grace and meet our every need. I am not sure what else any of us will be called to endure, but I do know that God never wastes our pain. I pray that none of us misses what God has for us during this time, and that we receive with open hands all the blessings and lessons He pours out. Dear brothers and sisters in Christ, may you find the strength and courage to patiently endure, and, as a result, grow deeply in your faith.
Prayer Requests
Please pray for protection over my sister Ruthie who works at Lowe’s, and my father Charles and niece Somaya who live with her. My father is 85 years old. Pray also for my friend and neighbor Roberta who watches Somaya a couple of days each week.
Keep Papua New Guinea in your prayers. So far, we know of only one confirmed case in the country. Pray specifically for our translators: Maniosa, Martin, Nete, Rueben, William, and Frank, and for the community of missionaries and Papua New Guineans who live in Ukarumpa, our missionary base.
Pray for us as a family living and homeschooling in a two-bedroom apartment on the second floor. Our only outlet is going for a walk around the neighborhood, during which we constantly tell our kids not to touch anything or go near anyone. Living on the second floor means constantly telling our kids not to jump, wrestle, or dance. We are basically living life telling our kids not to be kids. Pray that we can all patiently endure each other’s presence with joy and thanksgiving.
