Her name was Candy.
I couldn’t describe her if I had to. I never knew the color of her hair, the width of her smile or touch of her hand. Because she didn’t exist. Yet, every meal time for months, she sat at our table, while my three-year-old conversed with her. So convincing was our little girl’s one sided
interaction we found ourselves asking, “What did Candy say?”People told us it was normal, cute even, but there is something slightly disconcerting about an invisible friend who eats stolen cookies and pilfers coins from mommy’s purse.
“Candy did it,” our daughter had a habit of primly saying when caught red handed.
It was the snake for goodness sake.
She’d stand, head cocked slightly to the left, little hands clasped behind her, eyes round and innocent.
Poor Candy, she bore all the sins of an adorable little blonde girl with sparkling blue eyes without a complaint, at least I never heard any.
Our daughter’s invisible friend disappeared almost as suddenly as she appeared…which was actually never… but you get the gist.
Spiritual lethargy, an unseen presence creates all sorts of new excuses, in a shut-in, community-less, accountability-less atmosphere. It slithers under the lazy door of our Covid-worn stay-at-home sensibilities. Days have turned into months of waiting for the virus to strike or go away. It plays havoc with emotions, spirit and drive. Like an invisible grown up Candy it’s presence is hard to shake.
It is the body of Christ’s new unseen enemy, and a new normal that doesn’t belong to his church.
Easy is inviting. We adapt to it. Self-discipline requires work. We have the same twenty-four hours we’ve always had but our activities have shifted. Risks we are willing to take coincide with our physical needs and wants. Life looks different. Work has changed. Home-stay continues to evolve. Relationships are tested.
This morning as I read my Bible I had a fresh reminder.
“With all my heart I have sought You; Do not let me wander from Your commandments.” Psalm 119:10 (NASB)
There is a silent half-hearted-enemy in this virus.
The author of Psalm 119 shows the desperate need of an entire heart. Wholeheartedness is the antithesis of lethargy. Spiritual need must also be fed. Invisible kept-at-home-faith is too easy to hide and no one can see it slide.
Spiritual discipline needs a body of believers to strengthen and encourage. Accountability is much more visible face to face, and we are missing it. Up close and personal, flesh and blood connects more than a screen, yet we just might be getting used to Sunday mornings on the couch.
We need to get out of our pajamas, and worship in community if at all possible, even if it takes effort and even if it looks different than before.
Wholehearted seeking and wholehearted living blossoms with other believers.
Candy served her purpose as a convenient companion ready to split my daughter’s conscience and take some of the discomfort. Covid is becoming like Candy.
Risk the question, “How have these Covid days affected your walk with the Lord?” And when you have answered it honestly, ask it of someone else. The import of God’s presence in the trials of His people strengthens the entire body.
God’s doesn’t desire His people to slide into spiritual apathy while we wait for life to change. He asks wholehearted devotion to be shared not isolated. Jesus wants to revitalize what Covid has worn down.
“With all my heart…”
How’s your heart?
Jesus speaks to his children in that still small voice of an open Bible, a quiet seeking heart, and the community of believers. Engagement with the body of Christ gives a much needed kick in our spiritual pants.
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