Historical and Theological Reflections on Our Present Distress

It may be unhelpful and highly inappropriate to say to someone at the onset of calamity and crisis: “Cheer up, things could be worse!” True, perhaps, but certainly not encouraging. But we are no longer at the beginning of our present crisis, and so some historical reflection and theological context might be useful at this point. If we can take a deep breath, pause our panic, and turn the volume down on the news long enough, it may be helpful to remember that God’s people (and the world) have faced pandemic and global disaster before. Many examples from history could be given, but I have transcribed an account of the 14th century that may be of some interest.

“Another event that set the stage for the life of the church in the later Middle Ages was the Great Plague of 1347. There were at that time weather changes that historians now call ‘the little ice age.’ This reduced agricultural production, increased famines, and in general left the population more vulnerable to disease. Bubonic plague, as we now know, is transmitted by fleas, and black rats act as intermediary hosts…. Suddenly, and with no apparent reason, people began developing strange symptoms that usually began with a fever, then led to loss of balance, and produced enormously swollen lymph nodes, often accompanied by symptoms of dementia. By the fifth day, most who had developed these symptoms were dead. In a few months, between 1348 and 1350, the plague swept the entire [European] continent. According to some estimates, a third of the population died of the plague or of related causes. After those three years, the storm abated, although there were new outbreaks every ten or twelve years…. 

“The plague had far-reaching consequences. Economically, all Europe was disrupted. Entire markets disappeared. Unemployment increased drastically in areas where mortality had not been as high as in the rest of Europe. This in turn created political turmoil, riots, and further economic disruption. It would take Europe several centuries to find a measure of demographic and economic stability. 

“The plague also had enormous religious consequences. In the subsequent outbreaks those who died were mostly the young, who had not developed any immunity, so it seemed to some people that Death had come to prefer younger victims. The nature of the disease itself, which attacked people who seemed perfectly healthy, led many to doubt the rationally ordered universe of earlier generations. Among intellectuals, this led to doubts regarding the ability of reason to grapple with the mysteries of existence. Among the general populace, it encouraged superstition. Since death was always at the threshold, life became a preparation for it. Many went on pilgrimage to the Holy Land, to Rome, or to Santiago. Those who were too poor to contemplate such long journeys went on pilgrimage to local shrines. The veneration of relics, and trade in supposed relics, gained momentum--in spite of the prohibitions of the Fourth Lateran Council. Fear was everywhere: fear of the plague, fear of hell, fear of the supreme judge, whom many were having to face sooner than expected.” 

--Justo Gonzalez, The Story of Christianity Vol 1: The Early Church to the Dawn of the Reformation (Harper Collins, 2010), 390-392.

Now lest my point  be misunderstood, I am not suggesting we should conclude that COVID-19 is “no big deal” and simply return to life as it was before in a hurried or careless manner. I expect our world and social norms have been and will be permanently altered by this pandemic. Over 182,000 people have already died, and no doubt that number will continue to rise. The question is not if there will be a second (or third or fourth) wave of the virus, but when, where, and how severe it will be. The world has changed. We would be foolish to deny it. Instead, we should be focused on being faithful and fruitful as we adapt to those changes.

The point of the historical reference is to put our present frustrations in context. We are wondering: “When can the church gather again? How will this crisis impact my job, investments, future? When will we be able to celebrate the Lord’s Supper? When can life return to normal?” Can you imagine the kinds of questions Christians were asking in the 14th century? Some estimates of death during that plague are much higher than the above historian admits. The Church did not have access to the global information, constant updates, and medical technologies we have today. As I re-read that passage, I wondered what it would be like to see one of my sons develop a fever, lose his balance, then become forgetful, and know that by the end of the week he would probably die. That kind of puts our present questions in a different light, don’t you think?

We have many advantages the Church in the 14th century did not. Do you know what is our greatest advantage? Not ICU beds, ventilators, or drug therapies, and it is certainly not 24-hour news! Our greatest advantage is having the gospel clearly proclaimed from our pulpits, knowing the meticulous sovereignty and goodness of God, and having abundant access to the Bible in our native language. These are blessings many (most?) Christians in 14th century Europe did not enjoy. What a difference the Reformation made! It did not change what the gospel is, but it certainly changed the Church’s ability to hear and live in light of it with clarity and consistency.

The present pandemic will pass, and though many will die and society will change, the Church will survive and continue to worship as we wait for the Lord who comes to judge the world in righteousness and make all things new. Be patient as we await God’s providence in our present distress. Trust God who made the world and everything in it and who holds it together to the present hour. Be sure that this calamity will not extend any farther than the Lord ordains for the eternal good of his people. If the Lord should tarry, future generations will read of this moment in world history. I pray the Church’s testimony in that story will be characterized by gospel hope and trust in God’s sovereignty and not by fear, worldly concerns, and superstition. --JME

Looking for Love in All the Wrong Places

My Last Sermon

I don’t think I’ve ever shared this with Kirstie or anyone else, but every week when I finish writing the sermons for Sunday, it puts me in a somber but peaceful mood. This is not because the work is complete. I am rarely satisfied with the finished product, and as was reportedly the case with E. B. White, I simply have to stop working on it due to a deadline rather than because I am happy with it. But I am somber because every week it occurs to me that these may be the last sermons I ever write. One of the reasons I began manuscripting most of my sermons several years ago is that I did not want their content to depend on my delivery. So every week once the manuscript is complete I reflect on the fact that if I die before the Lord’s Day, my wife and children will still be able to read what I planned to say.

I’ve had a similar experience the last three weeks in recording sermons to be studied on Sunday. It is very odd to be finished “preaching” on Friday; I certainly don’t want to make a habit of it. But it has occurred to me each week that if I am struck down by the Corona virus or hit by a bus or drop a kettlebell on my head before Sunday… at least the sermon will still be available.

I hope your day is not made more morbid by eavesdropping on my thoughts today. That’s not my intent. Some of us were introduced to our own mortality quite early, and it gives one a very different perspective on life. I am sharing this not because I’m in the mood to bare my soul, but because every one of us, and our children, has an opportunity right now to reflect in positive and helpful ways on our own mortality. Death is a certainty, unless the Lord returns first; being born creates a terminal condition. We need to live like people that know it. Someday I will preach my last sermon. It may be when I am old. It may be many years from now. Or it may have already happened, and I am simply unaware of it. Am I prepared for this sermon to be my last sermon? What about my last conversation with my kids or my spouse? We cannot live every day as if it were our last. That would be unworkable, but we can resolve as Jonathan Edwards did many years ago “never to do anything, which I should be afraid to do, if it were the last hour of my life,” “that I will live so as I shall wish I had done when I come to die,” and “to think much on all occasions of my own dying, and of the common circumstances which attend death.” The writer of Ecclesiastes teaches us it is “better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting, for that is the end of all men; and the living will take it to heart” (Ecc. 7:2).

Thinking of the certainty of our own death should not make us morbid or sad but rather joyfully somber. Perhaps one of the ways this pandemic will positively affect and sanctify is by helping us to think more often and more productively of our own mortality and to live more faithfully as prepared people. -JME