“When evening came, his disciples went down to the sea, got into a boat, and started across the sea to Capernaum. It was now dark, and Jesus had not yet come to them. The sea became rough because a strong wind was blowing. When they had rowed about three or four miles, they saw Jesus walking on the sea and coming near the boat, and they were frightened. But he said to them, ‘It is I; do not be afraid.’ Then they were glad to take him into the boat, and immediately the boat was at the land to which they were going.” — John 6:16-21
Sometimes fear means you buy more toilet paper than you can use in a year. Sometimes it means you turn to Facebook instead of medical professionals. Sometimes fear means you flaunt CDC guidelines. If you don’t admit something’s wrong it can’t hurt you, right?
I get it. And no, this isn't a sermon on the importance of social distancing— though you should seriously take that advice. It’s about what all of those questions have in common. It’s about what those statements are really saying: I do not have enough control over my life.
It’s always been one of my personal struggles. I like to be in control. I like to know exactly what the day will hold, the week will hold, the month will hold, if I can swing it (hasn’t happened yet). I’ve gotten a lot better since getting married. Or at least I think I have. At the very least, life becomes more unpredictable when you throw someone else and two puppies into it.
But just recently, I personally experienced a way life can be unpredictable that up until then, I had only watched from afar: health. I mean, yes, the global pandemic has probably brought mortality to center stage for most of us. Even if our area isn’t feeling the brunt of it quite yet, hearing stories from New York City is heart breaking— as an understatement. Even if you’re not worried for yourself, chances are you’re worried for someone you love. Humanity. Mortality. One in the same.
I had had some blood tests taken before COVID-19 took hold of the country and honestly forgot about it. I have always had some hormone issues, and my doctor regularly runs blood work.
This time I got a call from the nurse saying my doctor would like me to come in to discuss some abnormal results. So to recap, my doctor wanted me to come into her office (which is attached to a hospital) in the middle of a global pandemic.
I figured the news probably wasn’t great.
I waited for a week for the appointment. I managed to be able to call her instead of going into her office.
The call was short. Five minutes maybe.
She told me I have hypothyroidism, a condition where my body doesn’t make enough thyroid hormone. Turns out your thyroid does some pretty important things, and it not working correctly explains why I haven’t been feeling great. Basically, my body was struggling to function.
Thankfully it is a very treatable condition, but it does mean I’ll have to take medication for the foreseeable future - possibly the rest of my life.
And that hit me.
No matter what I do, what I have planned, or what’s happening in the world. I have to have this medication. Every day. Or I start feeling pretty crappy.
It was never part of my plan. I weirdly always took comfort in the fact that I didn’t need any medicine to survive. If the apocalypse happened, I wouldn’t already be down and out because I couldn’t take a pill.
It’s a weird thing to find comfort in I know. But it was true. I blame all those zombie movies for it.
It was true. But not anymore.
I’m a pretty cold-natured person. I can catch a chill in the middle of a 90 degree summer day. I couldn’t explain why it happened, so I chalked it up to a friendly nudge that the Lord was there.
Turns out coldness is a symptom of hypothyroidism. My body was struggling to function, struggling to keep the processes my body needs to stay alive running smoothly.
In a way, it was a reminder from my Creator. You could argue it wasn’t. It was a biological response to a very physical problem, but if there’s one thing I think COVID-19 has reminded all of us, it’s that we don’t have life quite as locked up as we thought. Our lives balance on a razor’s thin edge between the world we know and fear/chaos. Check the toilet paper aisle at your nearest Walmart if you don’t believe me.
It doesn’t feel like we’re in control because we’re not. And depending on your belief system, the details may seem confusing and scary and sketchy. To be honest, no one in this church has all the answers either.
Pain, suffering, and fear are inevitable in life. God never promises that Christians will be immune from the brokenness of the world. But what we do know is that we serve a God who steps into our mess and walks with us. His strength is made perfect in our weakness.
Right now, we take comfort that He is in control. In a chronic illness. In a global pandemic. In any situation where fear manifests from a lack of control.
He is there.