Walk Not Faint

Even youths will faint and be weary, 

    and the young will fall exhausted;
but those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength,
    they shall mount up with wings like eagles,
they shall run and not be weary,
    they shall walk and not faint.

Isaiah 40: 30-31

...he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” So, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.

2 Corinthians 12:10

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Dear Kate,

"When will this pandemic ever end and life get back to normal?"  A person who walks his dog every early morning knows how fruitless such a question is.

Take the question's words out of their context and play a bit of Scrabble (and not fast and loose either), we can come up with only one sure thing: Life. Will. End.

Otherwise, we can't say much about When, don't know much about This (pandemic), aren't really sure about what is Normal (or--more importantly--why it is so desirable), and can never go Back in history, not even to the last minute lost, let alone our last summer, last lover, last backward glance of our youth, lost, probably, yes, for Ever.

So the question is wishful thinking, and wishful isn't the same as hopeful.  In fact, if life is going to end one way or another, sooner or later, decay and regress inevitable in our living out the modern myth of endless progress, there really is only despair to speak of.

When we say we are "thankful," we are really blubbering a helpless cry to whoever that could slow down our decay and maybe grant us another day of Normal.  When we propose we need to move "forward," we are really talking about moving upward, sustaining, bettering our socioeconomic status, insuring against our ever-worsening tomorrows, a spatial ascent to detach ourselves from a sad, hopeless story, one that will leave all its characters on the sideline, throw them one after one off the great locomotive of History, the once most successful, beautiful characters on stage looking most ridiculously lost and ugly in contrast to their former glory.

Is this not the Story that we assume to be true and inevitable when we ask "When will this pandemic ever end and life get back to normal"?

No wonder we are anxious.  No wonder we are distressed, depressed, dejected, waking up every new morning for no particularly new reason, to no specific sunshine or raindrop, over time a good career would always become only-OK (if not downright a necessary evil), a promising relationship would always grow unfortunate, frustrating our effort to pursue other lies of life, aspiration would always be followed, perverted by apathy, leaving us with our medications and addictions and little Costco runs and petty getaways to drag ourselves "forward" for yet another day.

But if not this Story, then what?

Yours, Alex