God is a safe
place to hide,
ready to help
when we need him.
We stand fearless at the
cliff-edge of doom,
courageous in
seastorm and earthquake,
before the rush and roar of
oceans,
the tremors that
shift mountains.
Psalm 46: 1-2 (The Message)
Did you feel it? According to the U.S. Geological Survey, the Lehigh Valley rattled a little bit on Wednesday night when a 3.1 magnitude earthquake trembled beneath Freehold, New Jersey. It doesn’t seem to have caused much damage, but it was an unusual event in these parts. If it shook you awake at 2 a.m., I suspect it was disconcerting.
I have only one memory of experiencing an earthquake, albeit a mild one. At the time, my workspace was on the second floor of a commercial office building. I was sitting in my wheeled desk chair and tapping away on the computer keyboard when, stunningly, the chair rolled me from one side of the room to the other. The floor didn’t seem to shake so much as tilt for a couple of seconds. When it was over, I stepped into the hallway where I met my slightly dazed co-worker. Simultaneously we asked, “Was that an earthquake?” We were more incredulous than worried, more puzzled than frightened.
Of course, it was fortunate that the quake caused very little damage, and I had the luxury of viewing it as an interesting incident rather than a chronic concern (as it is for folks who live in, say, Southern California) or a life-shaping tragedy (as it has been for our brothers and sisters in, say, Nepal).
It’s been six months since most of us felt the initial jolt of Covid-19, six months of quaking instability, six months of wobbling insecurity. In that time we’ve grown accustomed to seeing daily versions of spikey charts used by public health officials to track coronavirus cases—charts that look a lot like seismograph printouts. As I review the graphics provided today on the Pennsylvania Covid-19 Dashboard, the lines look less violent. Our immediate region seems to have settled into a time of respite, a time of relative calm. There’s a sensation that the figurines have stopped vibrating on the shelves, that the windows have stopped shattering, that it’s safe enough to step on the street without fearing a chasm will open up.
We want it to be so. We want to trust that the ground beneath our feet is solid. We want to let our guard down. We want life to be normal. We want the crisis to be in the past.
A big problem with earthquakes, though, are the aftershocks, and aftershocks can also leave a population scrambling to brace itself in a doorway. It’s possible that an aftershock can be even more devastating than the initial quake.
Like geologists reading the earth’s rumbles in hope of providing early warnings to minimize the impact of a high-magnitude quake, epidemiologists and other knowledgeable medical professionals offer predictive warnings to the Covid-infected world. The warnings remind us that we are still living on the fault line of a vicious disease. An aftershock will undoubtedly come. But we are not helpless. We have the capacity to minimize the magnitude simply by choosing the course of our own actions. Human behavior, in most cases, has little power over earthquakes. But human behavior can wield a measure of control over this disease!
The psalm at the top of the page reminds us that we can “stand fearless at the cliff-edge of doom” because God will provide our help. The fearlessness is about knowing that, no matter what, we are secure in being fully loved by the Creator. We can curl up in a ball and hide in that love! It is imperative to remember, though, that the help we are promised may well be delivered through the voices of gifted researchers, brilliant doctors, and dedicated public health administrators! Stand fearless, indeed, through all of the challenges that materialize, but use the information at your disposal to fend off the ones you can. Be diligent in the safety protocols that keep our households healthy and our neighbors safe. And be patient. This continues to be a most worthy spiritual discipline.
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
Psalm 46: 1 (NRSV)
Unshaken Even in Shaky Times,
Pastor Chris
+++++
Virtual Fellowship Time on Zoom – Sundays at 11:30 a.m.
This casual online gathering has taken root over the last few months and become a wonderful way to keep connected. Whether you’ve become a “regular” at these gatherings, or you’re thinking about dropping by for the very first time, please use the Zoom link and password provided below, or join by phone if you do not use a device with a screen.
And if Zoom is new to you and you’d like to be coached on how to get started, please email me at moravianpastorchris@gmail.com or call me at 484-894-9077.
To join by computer, tablet or smart phone, please go to:
Passcode: 789162
To join by phone (no video), dial:
+1 301 715 8592 US (Germantown)
Meeting ID: 998 3134 7702
Zoom Prayers–Sundays at 6:30 p.m.
We are also continuing to offer Zoom Prayers on Sunday evenings at 6:30. We come together to share simply in intercessory prayer on behalf of our congregation, community, and world. We usually conclude by 7:00 p.m. All are welcome!
To join by computer, tablet, or smart phone, please go to:
Passcode: 073131
To join by phone (no video), dial:
+1 301 715 8592 US (Germantown)
Meeting ID: 919 6174 3369