Another Anniversary…

5 years… and 257 letters

These letters began as a way to hold our fellowship together in the storm, like ropes lashed around the boards of a raft that is buffeted by waves and wind. Letter #1- March 9, 2020, lacked inspiration. It merely detailed the precautions that we were taking at LVC to protect us as we met together for worship in the face of a spiraling health crisis. But by week’s end, our doors were closed, and our worship was livestreamed for the first time in LVC history. A year later, Letter #53 sounded a call to HOPE. “After a year of shutdowns and isolation, economic struggles and political battles, fear and loss, we are ready for the spring… ready for the renewal of life… ready for hope of a new day!” But, a year later, Letter #103- Miracles- found us still in the throes of pandemic challenges, with Russia bearing down on its neighbor-Ukraine. A mountain of diapers sat in our lobby ready for shipping to Ukrainian refugees. Letter #103 declared that hope must win the day. “We may struggle to believe, but the truth is: we are surrounded by miracles all the time… we just fail to notice the fantastic in our effort to survive the ordinary challenge of the day.“

By the next anniversary, Letter #155 celebrated of our tech advances during the pandemic, and welcomed of a new member to our tech staff. Infrastructure may not be flashy, but it has certainly strengthened our ministry. But what about hope? The 4th anniversary brought the 206th Letter- In all things. Again, a call to hope. “As believers in a Mountain-Moving God, may we live in anticipation, even expectation of what God will do next. In all things…” This week, we mark the 5th anniversary of the pandemic shut-down still waiting for the realization of what we hope for. The stock market is ‘anxious’. We are unsettled, told that “it could be a little rocky for a while.” We are exhausted, ready for a season of peace, hoping for a new era of ‘prosperity.’ But right now, uncertainty rules the day, leaving many wondering, and some wrapped in fear. We are called to walk by faith, not by sight. But it sure would be nice to see a little light at the end of the tunnel right about now.

When the pandemic started, none of us could have imagined that a health crisis could shape our whole reality. Wouldn’t it be nice to have the pandemic in our rearview, a story to tell our little ones in years to come? Instead, the story is still unfolding, like a nightmare from which you desperately want to awaken. True, there are no more mask mandates, social distancing, or shutdown isolation. Vaccinations and treatments have reduced COVID to a manageable challenge like the flu- not to be ignored, but not with the power to devastate a nation. But still, we feel the effects of the pandemic… the economic challenges… the division… the anger… a culture of accusations. We have lost the civility our mothers taught us. We have forgotten the core values of our faith. In such environments saviors arise. Some gravitate to their charisma. But the people of God must ask if our saviors serve the Savior.

I have poured over God’s word, searching for hope and direction in the storm. In that search, I found the prophet Isaiah whose word from 3000 years ago sounds relevant to our day. At the end of Isaiah, the prophet is addressing the people of God in exile. The country they love is in ruins, the temple a mound of rubble. And many of the people find themselves far from the home they knew. They yearn for the ‘good old days.’ (Sound familiar?) Instead of a political solution, Isaiah calls the people to fast. His call is not to our typical Lenten fast- giving up something for the season to remind us of the sacrifice of Jesus. No, this fast is a call to action, to live the faith in a robust and sacrificial way, to put the needs of others before our own, to love like God loves. Through Isaiah, God calls us to thrive, not on the backs of our neighbors, but alongside them… to know peace as a shared reality, not one bought at the cost of one people over another. Imagine if God’s people were to embrace an Isaiah fast this year:

Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free and break every yoke?
Is it not to share your food with the hungry
and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe them,
and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?
Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness will go before you,
and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.
Then you will call, and the Lord will answer;
you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.
If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
with the pointing finger and malicious talk,
and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
and your night will become like the noonday.
The Lord will guide you always;
he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden,
 like a spring whose waters never fail.
Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins
and will raise up the age-old foundations;
you will be called Repairer of Broken Walls,
Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.
Isaian 58:6-12

With you in search of God’s way,
Anita