Even those who have endured the pandemic well are understandably struggling with brain fog these days. It’s been a long and upsetting year and we are all tired. So I thought I’d share this little graphic of a breath prayer that a friend posted on Facebook the other day:

Each “receive” is meant to be a deep breath in, and each “release” a slow breath out. And if you pay attention, you’ll see the “receives” are the fruits of the Spirit.

May this simple prayer help you to find a way to pray even while dealing with brain fog, even when your own words fail you.

Until tomorrow, dear friends, know that God hears your prayers and has mercy on you.

In times that feel unendingly hard – Dr. Theresa Tam was not wrong when she said that the fight against COVID-19 would be a marathon. She said that, to the best of my recollection, sometime in April or May last year. It was a long, long time ago. It comes back to my thoughts regularly. Because it’s not just a marathon we are in, it’s one we hadn’t trained for. The secret to completing a long distance run is training – doing it again and again, raising and lowering your distance, so that you get used to the strain it is on your body.

I think we can all agree that we don’t want to do this again any time soon. But when you haven’t trained, that’s when injury can occur.

We are in a marathon for which none of us have trained. And it’s painful, and it’s exhausting, and I hate to say it – in my context at least – it’s still pretty far from over.

So what do we do when we are hurting, when it feels unending, when we are exhausted?

We hold to hope.

As Andy Dufrasne in the Shawshank Redemption remarked, “Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.“

So let’s spend some time thinking about things that give us hope. Let me make you a list: the snowdrops I found on yesterdays walk, which means that Spring is on its way; the text from a friend telling me he had gotten his vaccine, which means that one more person I care about is protected from the virus; the longer days, which mean in the not too distant future it will be warm enough for balcony time; the prayers and words of support from congregants and friends, which mean I am not alone and I am cared for; the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, which mans I have never been unloved.

I encourage you to make your own list – and feel your spirit brighten as you do.

Until tomorrow, dear friends, hold to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful!

(Preaching this to myself today, but also sharing it with you – in case you needed to hear it, too!)

One year ago today I wrote the first “Strength and Peace Blog.” At that point I thought I was going to be blogging for a few weeks or a month to keep up the spirits of the faithful people of Graceview Presbyterian. I never for a second thought I’d still be at it a year later. None of us thought that at the beginning.

None of us could have imagined that a year later we’d still be keeping our distance and – in Toronto’s case, anyway – living in lockdown. So I just want to share a couple of things that I have found meaningful as I’ve reflected on this pandemic year.

First of all, Nadia Bolz-Weber has been writing prayers every Sunday and you can sign up here to receive them by email. Her turn of phrase is always fresh and meaningful. I often feel like she’s saying what I was feeling. This past Sunday’s prayer was especially meaningful to me:

Dear God who made us all,

A year ago we did not know that we were about to learn: 

what we could lose and somehow live anyway

where we would find comfort and where it would elude us

whose lives matter to whom

why we have kitchens in our homes.

In mid-March 2020 all I knew for sure is that 

hoarding toilet paper doesn’t make you safe – it just makes you selfish.

But God, it feels like the world is about to open back up.  

And I’m both thrilled and kind of scared about that. 

Because I’m not who I was a year ago. 

I want so badly

to hug my friends again

and laugh like hell again

and have amazing conversations again

and yet I am not sure how long I could do any of this before crying or just getting really quiet. My emotional protective gear has worn so thin, and grief just leaks out everywhere now.

I am so afraid that I will never be who I once was. And I am also afraid that I will be.

(Not to mention, I’m not entirely clear what size jeans I wear as the me I am now)

And yet, when I quiet my anxious thoughts, I start to suspect that I am now closer to the me you have always known and always loved. So help me trust that, Lord. 

As things change, help us be gentle with ourselves and with each other. We are all wearing newborn skin right now.  

Amen.

-Nadia Bolz-Weber, Sunday Prayers for March 14, 2021

And second, this old song from Rich Mullins which popped into my head today out of nowhere and seems quite apropos. This is “Hold Me, Jesus”:

Dear friends, until tomorrow – may He be your Prince of Peace.

But…seriously!:

Soooo true:

Every. Single. Time.:

This makes me think of my Mom’s doggos….Koski is gentle with her toys these days:

Totally cracked me up (and reminds me of the time I had Aly in her carrier in a mall while her Mom ran to do an errand, the lady in the shop I was in looked at Aly and said, “She’s adorable!” I replied, “Thanks, she’s not mine!” 😂🤣😂😳😳😳):

The curse of the grammatically correct:

Math humor (since Pi Day was yesterday):

And more math humor:

This lovely word of faith:

And finally, this blessing for your day:

Until tomorrow, dear friends, keep on laughing and thinking and drawing closer to God!

Welcome to the fourth Sunday of Lent. May you be blessed by the service as we mark one year of pandemic measures and seek to find rest in God.

Until tomorrow, dear friends, may you know the rest that only God can give.

Tomorrow marks the fourth Sunday of Lent. The service will focus on the fourth commandment in which God commands us to keep the Sabbath holy – to do so by resting. So I couldn’t resist the impulse to share Andrew Peterson’s, Rest Easy (which says we can rest easy that God loves us):

The folks at illustratedministry.com have put out colouring page prayers to mark the one year anniversary of COVID-19 being declared a Global Pandemic. I’ll be sharing those pages for the next few weeks in the Worship Resources. Why not print one out, colour it and mail it to a friend or family member?

Here is the file for the colouring page:

And the text of prayer says:

Wonder Worker,
In this year when everything changed,
when we felt worried and weary,
when we wailed and we wondered,
you gave us a promise…
Nothing can separate us from your love.
And nothing will be wasted.
With you at work,
light, life, love, and liberation
always win.
Amen.

A couple of thoughts on resting in God:

And finally, just because it’s one of my favourite hymns (and I love a reimagined hymn that ends a more contemporary feel), here is Chris Tomlin’s Come Thou Fount (I will Sing):

Until tomorrow, dear friends, may you rest in God!

(Because sometimes I do run out of things to write, but I thank God for brilliant people of faith who have written throughout history. Borrowing their words when I am wordless is truly a blessing!)

In January Canada observed Bell Let’s Talk Day – a day which seeks to raise funds and awareness for mental health issues. During the pandemic we all know that mental health has worsened. None of us were made to spend a year largely without friends, family, social gatherings, hair cuts, gyms…all those things that contribute to positive mental health and which lockdown has stolen from us.

The longer it goes, the harder it gets.

At Presbytery Zoom this week, a colleague shared this song during the devotional time, “Truth Be Told” by Matthew West:

And – you guessed it – I felt that in my soul. Too often this year I’ve said I’m ok when I’m not. And maybe you feel just the same.

So today I’m praying for anyone who has said “I’m ok” when they are not.

At that same Presbytery devotional time, Psalm 142 was read. It reassured me that the people of God have always gone through difficult times. And in the worst of it, God is our refuge.

Dear friends, may you know that God is your refuge, may God be your strength and your portion in the land of the living.

(Ah, yes, thank you Rob Bell!)