Being Hopeful in Hopeless Times

As I write this, the coronavirus pandemic of 2020 is in full swing. No one knows if it has peaked yet or where we are on either the slope up or down.

In reflecting on being in the midst of such times, I am drawn to wonder just how terrible this will ultimately be. There is an inherent arrogance in every generation when everyone perceives their times as the best or the worst, the smartest, the most enlightened, and so on. This view is, at best, drastically short-sighted. After all, how can one person judge the best of times or the worst of times not knowing how the times affect every other person on earth in every other time?

These times also cause me to reflect on my part--my purpose--in these times. I don't expect to have a fast answer to this question, as such answers usually only come when reviewing the events in retrospect. So, not knowing my part in any detail yet, I'm forced to speculate with what is at hand at this moment.

I was listening to a podcast on the way home today. The host was interviewing a man who was infected and symptomatic, as was his wife, living in a 500 sq. ft. apartment in New York with their two-year-old daughter. His wife had it worse and spent her days and nights in bed, only coming out to use the restroom. He was only slightly better, yet the work of raising the two-year old fell primarily to him.

As the host interviewed him via a phone call, the man's desperation and despair bubbled to the surface. He was upset to the point of tears a few times. It was sad because he, drawn to think about worse-case scenarios, envisioned dying and leaving his daughter alone. He thought about his daughter contracting the illness from himself or his wife. He didn't seem to see this virus as a momentary diversion. Instead he saw it as the beginning of the end.

What was most sad to me was that I do not feel that. Granted, I am healthy thus far, but the hopelessness was so thoroughly foreign to me. Why?

The only thing I could come up with was that I look beyond this life, considering the best and the worst it has to offer, and I see a better world that has been promised to me. How much better? 1 Corinthians 2:9 tells us that, “Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man the things which God hath prepared for them that love Him.” That's what I'm talking about.

Considering where I am and where this other man was, him awash in a sea of hopelessness and myself buoyed by hope, I was awakened to a sense of the dichotomy. Many consider life, specifically the spiritual life, as being relativistic, defined by individual values. The idea that multiple realities, most of which contrast with one another and could not coexist on the same plane, can not only coexist but must coexist.

It has always been comfortable for me to believe in a singular truth. That seems to be the only way a truth can exist. Narrowly defined, anything that deviates from it no longer is it. Truth corrupted becomes a half truth, and I've always believed that a half truth is a whole lie.

So what does hopefulness look like? It looks like a future placed in the hands of a benevolent Creator, a Creator that has promised to meet our needs, to watch over us and care for us. Consider this:

Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? So if you who are evil know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask Him! (Matthew 7:9-11)

Not knowing or not regarding of the existence of a Creator, specifically one that is not indifferent yet is warm, loving and looks after his children, is the most hopeless of places to exist. It is sadder still to know that people will enter and exit this crisis of hopelessness without pausing to consider who God is. To me, it's like being trapped in a building, wanting to get out, yet refusing to open one door--the one that would lead you out.

 Hope is waiting. Open the door. Let it in.