MY PANDEMIC SPIRITUAL FOOD JOURNAL
My body knows so many things before I do. I don’t mean breathing and blinking without a thought, or hunger, tiredness, and thirst, for that matter. It’s when I crave carrots because they will provide exactly what my body needs at that time. Or how I may feel off for an entire day, only to realize about halfway through that it’s the anniversary of the day my Dad died. Some survivors of trauma say, “the body keeps the score.”
Our souls work this way too. God’s Words are bread and living water. Our souls also crave specific things we need, so we seek certain words at certain times. This pandemic has been but one example, albeit a long one that has lasted for weeks. What follows is my spiritual food journal for every month.
In March I was drawn to feast on the hope of God’s promise to make all things new. I reflected on the last days, the coming of the Lord, and the resurrection. With all the talk of the end times I leaned into it in order to think about how much I cared for my neighbors, how often I prayed for their salvation and health. I then resolved to show them more clearly my love and care for them.
In April I saw a video of one of my best friends officiating the funeral service of his older brother who died of COVID-19. It had to be outdoors with only a handful of close family members as witnesses. Not many days later my father-in-law died of cancer, and we filled our living room in Brazil to watch his funeral service in America. I kept myself spiritually alive through lament. I read some psalms, Jeremiah’s lamentations, and reflected on Jesus’ cries in the garden.
During May there was a constant looming presence of loss, beginning with Ascension day in which we wonder why Jesus seemingly left us. At first I reflected on losses of activities, losses of trips, and losses of intermingling with people. But that was nothing compared to the news – businesses closed, families going hungry, and mass graves. In Brazil they don’t embalm the dead, so corpses must be in the ground within a day of death. Our region has been spared the worst of the pandemic so far, but it is also still early. My prayers sometimes resemble the groans Paul talks about in Romans chapter 8. I read a lot of Romans in May, reflecting on its symphony of a gospel that puzzles those who thought they were closest to God, but now find themselves on the outside looking in. And there was Paul, whose life spanned both of those worlds, lamenting how salvation is near everyone, but people grasp at it in all the wrong places.
In June I found myself drawn to the Old Testament prophets. They were given a message to wake up God’s people from idolatry, injustice, and apathy, but many of them were dismissed in their day. God is attuned to the cries of the poor, the orphaned, the widow, and the oppressed, but many of his own people had deaf ears. Instead, they chased after idols that promised political power, worldly wealth, and supposed security. God says that those who worship idols become exactly what they worship. The idols of our day may be harder to see and touch than the Asherah polls and household gods of ancient Israel, but they still exist in our world today, offering the same empty promises as before. And if we are not careful we too will become exactly like them, so I look within and wonder what idols have a piece of my heart. From what am I allowing to nourish my soul more than God’s Words? To what am I holding sacred more than God? Who am I serving more than God?
The first day of July brought what locals call a “cyclone bomb” storm to our area. It blew down trees, ripped off roofs, and knocked out power lines. Thankfully, our city was only on the outskirts of the storm. But as I looked out the window to bending trees and heard howling winds, I thought of the Spirit, blowing where he will. I also thought of the street people; there are so many of them nearby. They had to brave an entire night and day of cold rain followed by strong winds, while I remained dry and warm in my apartment. The sick who are healed are more thankful than the ones who never get sick. Likewise, those who receive abundant grace and know they didn’t deserve an ounce of it are also more thankful than the ones who feel they’ve deserved or earned everything they have. I am thankful, but my heart still goes out to those who have it so hard. Do they know there is hope? Would they even listen to me tell them about it after walking by them so many times without saying one word? I think of what James calls pure religion as opposed to people who just say they have faith, but whose actions betray any shred of it.
What my will soul crave next? I will have to wait and see, but I am thankful for a God who speaks life, hope, truth, goodness, and beauty amid all that is sinful, evil, and corrupt in our world. I continue to trust him. I continue to believe. But months like these I feel like the man who asked Jesus to help him with what remained of his unbelief.
Chances are your soul is craving nourishment during these times as well. What does your spiritual food journal look like? The menu of God’s Holy Scripture is rich of every vitamin and mineral you could ever need. May you sit down at its table and feast, for we cannot live by bread alone or by the world’s deluge of information and messages alone. We need the bread of God!