The other day when I had my endoscopy, the thing I was worried about the most was my glasses.
I am blind without my glasses. I know a lot of people say that and they mean that they have bad vision, but ask me, if you see me, about my vision, and I’ll hand you my glasses, otherwise known as the pound of plastic that rests on my nose.
I have some seriously thick lenses. They used to call them “coke bottle” lenses.
My eyes are so bad that when I went to eye doctor recently, and I was sitting there waiting for him to examine me, he looked at me and the glasses on my face and seriously asked me if I was wearing contact lenses.
That’s how bad my eyes are—that I’ve reached a point where the doctor thought I have to do both glasses and contacts in order to see.
So having to turn over my glasses to a stranger right before my endoscopy was the thing that caused me the most anxiety.
Would I get them back right away?
What if they were lost?
And so when I woke up after the endoscopy and the nurse asked me if I needed anything, you would think I would have said, “My glasses.”
But, nope, the first word that came out of my mouth was … “water.”
I had had to fast for the endoscopy, not just fast from food, but also water and even though it only wound up being about twelve hours of no food or water, it felt like an eternity. The lack of food didn’t bother me. The lack of water was awful.
My mouth was so dry, not desert dry, but rather that gummy, sticky, gluey-dry that makes it hard to talk.
Before I left for the endoscopy, I got on Facebook to complain and since it also happened to be Ash Wednesday, I wound up writing about Jesus’ 40 days in the desert, fasting, about finally understanding just what the devil was tempting Jesus with, about finally realizing the enormous strength and willpower it took for Jesus to say “no,” for him to not turn those rocks into bread.
Because right then, I would have given anything for a sip of water.
Anything.
Our country, in fact the entire world right now, is going through a massive spiritual crisis, our own trial in the desert that just so happens to coincide with Lent. Our spiritual crisis has literally gone viral with the emergence of a rapidly spreading, deadly coronavirus. The stock market is having its worst days in decades. Saudi Arabia and Russia have begun an “oil war,” like a price war between Macy’s and Gimbel’s, but with each side possessing a serious amount of weaponry and the entire global oil community at stake.
If we have learned anything the past few weeks, it’s that the days are long gone when we or any country could pretend to be an isolationist. Everything we do affects everything else in the world.
The other day, I called up my banker and asked if I should be panicking now with the stock market tanking. After putting me on hold for a minute, the banker said, “No, you shouldn’t be panicking.”
“Well, that was the right answer,” I thought, “that maybe took you a little too long to get to.”
The truth is we are all panicking now and panicking over different reasons.
Should I take that cruise right now? Probably not.
If I cancel my vacation, will I lose that money?
What if schools shut down? Who will take care of my kids? How will they make up these days?
What if I get sick?
What if I lose everything in the stocks?
What if I lose my job?
Do I have enough food in the refrigerator?
Do I have enough water?
And this I find fascinating … no matter what the catastrophe, no matter what the disaster, no matter what the threat, people suddenly hoard bottled water.
Now I only drink bottled water, so when a hurricane threatens, I may grab an extra case or two, but suddenly people who never drink water, who only drink soda and juice and sports drinks, suddenly all these people NEED. WATER.
And I want to say, you know you can live without bottled water. You’ve been doing just that for a long time.
Even now as this coronavirus looms, people are stockpiling water—maybe not as much as they would for a hurricane or a storm, but the shelves are definitely emptier than usual.
So why? Why do we turn to water no matter the catastrophe?
Because we know—because we’ve been taught this since we were kids. You can live without food for weeks, but you can’t live without water for more than a few days.
We need water to live.
Even if we had never been taught this because we personally live in a world where there is clean drinking water available instantaneously from the tap, we would still have this evolutionary awareness of water and how critical it is to staying alive.
Water is so critical to life, it’s why we see so much water imagery in the Bible.
And nowhere in the New Testament is it used more than in John’s Gospel.
It is in John’s Gospel where the Samaritan woman comes to well and meets Jesus who promises her living water, who promises her that with this living water she will never be thirsty again.
And it is in John 7:37 where Jesus says simply, “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me.”
I’m willing to bet you’re spiritually thirsty right now. I’m willing to bet your spirit is parched, bone dry.
How can it not be when we go again and again to waters that will never quench our thirst?
God wants us to come to Him.
One of the ways investment bankers try and protect their clients is by giving them a diverse portfolio so they’re not putting all their eggs in one basket so to speak.
Right now we need to diversify our spiritual investments.
It’s not enough just going to church, especially now with this Coronavirus encouraging us to stay home and isolate ourselves.
We are going to have to work seriously hard the next few days and weeks in investing in our spiritual health.
If we don’t, we are going to be consumed with worry and anxiety and dread. We’ll be quick to anger. We’ll be short with our loved ones.
We need to turn to God.
Time to practice some radical self-care.
Take time to pray. Remember prayer doesn’t have to be words. It can just mean you, alone, sitting in silence with God.
He doesn’t need your words.
He knows what you need.
Turn off the news. Turn off the phone. Start rewarding yourself with silence.
Remember that even if all you do is turn that phone off for a few minutes, that’s a few minutes you are giving your spirit to breathe.
Tell your family you love them. Be kind. Smile more. Offer to help people.
And give every bit of your fear right now to God.
He will provide.
Afterall, when the nurse went to get me water, someone else stepped right in to put those glasses on my face.
Nothing to worry about.
God has this.
God has you.
It’s a scary time, but we’re not alone.
“Come to me,” He says. “Come to me all of you who are thirsty, all of you who are weary and heavy-burdened. Come to me and I will give you rest.”
Comments
Post a Comment