As life in this time of Coronavirus continues, our varied behaviors continue to evolve—or devolve— as physical isolation becomes the “new normal” of our lives. The monotony of staying at home day in, day out causes me to lose track of the day of the week. I am reminded of patients in the hospital, who often lose track of time after staying in the same room for a while. A few of us have also noticed that our bodies are getting stiff and ache-y, as we are not as mobile as we used to be, so we need to be more intentional about finding new ways to exercise.

It’s a little surreal that our lives have turned inside out—or seemingly stopped—because of something we just hear about on TV. I only know one person who was diagnosed with the virus, but recently found that her case was much more serious than I thought. She is a pastor in a neighboring presbytery, younger than I am. Her family also got sick, but she had the worst of it, ending up in ICU, on a ventilator, for two weeks. Thank God she has been released from ICU this past week, but still in need of strength and healing.

Worse, the disparities of our society are magnified in new ways through the lens of Coronavirus. Those of us who can continue to work from home, or whose income is protected, are bored but confident. I cannot imagine how painful it is for small business owners whose dreams have evaporated within weeks. Then there are those who still have a job, because they tend to our most basic needs such as food, delivery, emergency response, and healthcare but at greater risk, low pay, and sometimes without benefits. I love when an emergency room doctor publicly thanks the hospital orderlies and janitors; I hope that we give thanks for the farmworkers, meat packers, and truck drivers who bring us our food, sometimes in unsafe conditions. And there is a growing awareness of the most vulnerable among us:  those who live in group institutions such as nursing homes, detention centers, or prisons; those who have no homes; those who have no documentation and thus no government help or protection; those who are emotionally fragile; those whose homes are not safe due to domestic violence or other challenges.

As the weight of all this stress bears down on us, we see angry protests, endless food pantry lines, and we hear of an enormous tragedy in Canada—no knowledge why a man would kill 16 innocent people, with no prior sign of violent tendencies.

As I’ve mentioned before, we have our own ways of coping with this existential crisis. Many of us flew into action, doing what we could to find new ways to worship, and care for each other, and work without in-person meetings. We tried to make the best of things, focusing especially on the stability of our churches and our close family and friends. Now we hear of the possibility of some areas opening up, and it’s hard to even imagine what that would feel like. The times are so uncertain that even what might be good news is bewildering.

That’s how I often think about Jesus’ ascension. The good news is that Jesus rose from the dead and hung out with the disciples for a few weeks, and then went up to heaven. Their faith in him was vindicated, and soon they were to be empowered by the Holy Spirit to carry on the work of the church on Pentecost. But they’ve been through such an emotional whirlwind—from the excitement of entering Jerusalem, only to see Jesus betrayed, arrested, and killed, then seeing him risen, and then losing him again as he is taken up into heaven . . . it’s no wonder that they seemed paralyzed, just looking up to heaven after him.

But Jesus had already told him there were big plans for them, and two messengers are sent to tell them to snap out of it—they can’t just stand there, looking into the sky!

So even though we’ve been on a rollercoaster these last few weeks, and even as I do believe we need to let God control the rollercoaster, and even as our faith in God’s goodness enables us to find rest in the middle of this storm, when the time is right, when we get the message from God to get moving, we can prepare for whatever God has in store for us. Though I usually imagine the disciples jumping into Pentecost immediately after the angels tell them to get moving, actually the Bible says they did a little organizing—they went back to Jerusalem and stayed together, they found a new twelfth in Matthias, and they prayed throughout. And then the Holy Spirit came over them, and empowered them for Christ’s mission in the church.

Again, the time may be different for some of us, but when the time is right, let us stay connected (electronically if not in person), let us ensure we have welcomed in all the members of the body, and let us pray . . . and pray . . . and pray—and when the Holy Spirit empowers us and guides us, let us show that life goes on in the Spirit.

And may you see—and soon, Lord, soon!—the glorious post-Corona future God has in store for each of you, and each of Christ’s churches.

Blessings to you this Easter season,

One of the traditional questions in the Passover seder is “Why is this night different from all other nights?”  A variant of this question kept coming to my mind this weekend:  “Why is this Easter Sunday different from all other Easter Sundays?”  Vikki Randall, pastor of Westminster Presbyterian in Temple City, referred to this year’s Lent as “the Lentiest of any Lent that ever Lented.”

Indeed, Easter services entered into the news this year differently than in other years, either as the source of controversy for those few churches who felt it necessary to worship in person, or by showing the starkness of totally empty sanctuaries and cathedrals.

I have to confess that as Maundy Thursday and Good Friday came, I had to make myself log in to worship(!).  It even occurred to me that since some churches are now doing asynchronous worship services (ie, you can go into YouTube and watch the service anytime you choose), I might just do that.  I’m kind of glad I was committed to worship with a church that is connecting via Zoom, so you can see who is (and isn’t) there. 

We are entering into Holy Week, and I have never felt the emotions of this week more than now.  There have been many parallels between the experience of Jesus’ disciples and our own lives in this time of Coronavirus. 

Now some of the symmetry might be in opposites as well.  The disciples were living their own lives, for good or for bad, until Jesus appeared and disrupted their lives with grace and challenge—telling them to leave their homes and families, and they witnessed amazing signs and wonders in this new life.  But then, things went terribly wrong when their leader was arrested and executed, and they were gripped with fear and confusion as their dreams were crushed.  Even though they were sure they were doing the right thing, the world seemed to stop when their savior died on the cross.

We were living our own lives, for good or for bad, until Coronavirus appeared and disrupted our lives with menacing challenge.  We were told to stay in our homes and families, yet through our faith and thanks to technology we witnessed some amazing signs in this new way of doing worship and caring for each other.  But now, we look ahead to a week when we are warned that there will be “a lot of death,” the worst week that we will have experienced in our lifetime.  We hear about the horrors of death and overwhelmed hospitals, and we are gripped with fear and confusion as millions of people lose their jobs, children lose their schools, trips are cancelled, and we have no idea how long this will last or whether we will be hit by the virus.  Even though we are trying to do the right thing, we are coming to the realization that even as we get through this crisis, it is likely that the world as we know it will never be the same.

When this crisis began, I noticed how folks responded to the situation in their own way, depending on their particular backup behaviors, and that was actually a good thing, because we could help each other through this.  I would liken it to grief, and how we all grieve in our own way, and we can’t and shouldn’t expect people to grieve along our own timelines.  A friend suggested that in fact we ARE experiencing grief now.  Some people have had their dreams stopped—lives lost, graduation ceremonies cancelled, restaurants closed down.  But for all of us, we wonder how we will be changed permanently by this forced and sudden world coma.  When we come out of it—and we have no idea how long it will last—what will we wake up to?

So in some ways we are more like Jesus’ disciples this Holy Week than in most years.  So much of life as we knew it has been taken away, and we don’t know what it will look like when the virus passes.  The trust we put into the pillars of our lives—the economy, the government, the healthcare system—has been sorely tested if not destroyed.  And the terror we see is unlike anything we have experienced, so we have few historical precedents to learn from.

But we are also like Jesus’ disciples in that we have been given signs of hope.  Jesus has told us that there is new life, which requires the end of old life.  Jesus has warned us that there will be suffering, but he also promised that he will protect us, and ask God to give us the Holy Spirit, and he offers us peace.  And Jesus gave us a job to do:  to love one another, just as Jesus loves us—which means we love until the end, and love never fails.

Even as we walk this very cold, rainy, menacing week—even as we know that when that first Good Friday came, the world did come to an end—may we also remember the promises of hope, and peace, and new life that have been told and shown to us our whole lives.  Let us remember that the rain brings green and protects us from drought and fire, which were recent cause for fear.  Let us love one another, and learn new compassion, as our energy dips and our tensions rise as the monotony of this homebound life sets in.

And most of all, let us hold on to our loving God, and give thanks with our whole lives to Christ who gave up his life for us.  And may we be open to the healing balm of the Holy Spirit, even as we are reminded of the frail mortality of our physical bodies.  As we continue to love and care for each other in spirit, not in physical proximity, as we yearn for reminders of Christ’s resurrection and ours, we declare—with confidence and conviction!—the words of brother Paul:

When this perishable body puts on imperishability, and this mortal body puts on immortality, then the saying that is written will be fulfilled:

“Death has been swallowed up in victory.”
“Where, O death, is your victory?
      Where, O death, is your sting?”          1 Corinthians 15:54-55

As we walk this Via Dolorosa along with our Lord, let us never doubt that the power and wisdom of our God is bigger than anything we will face.  May the life-giving love of Christ infect your hearts and heal your minds and bodies, now and always.

In Christ’s peace,

Wendy

We are in a season when pastors would normally comment on the challenge of preaching on Palm Sunday and Easter. It’s hard to get the congregation to grasp the extent of fear that gripped Jesus’ disciples those three days, when Jesus was arrested, executed, and then his body disappeared from the tomb. It’s hard for us to experience that level of fear because we’ve heard the happy ending so many times, we can emotionally skate over Good Friday and even Easter sunrise, because we think we know what it all means.

We might even critique those silly disciples, they of little faith. As often as Jesus attempted to warn his friends about his death and resurrection, when confronted with unprecedented and disorienting tragedy, their faith failed them. They didn’t see the shadow of the cross on Palm Sunday; they didn’t have to come up with creative ways to evoke the shock and horror they lived through when seeing Jesus writhing in pain on the cross; they didn’t wake up before dawn thinking about the pancakes they will eat after a sunrise worship service. They lived through that last week in Jerusalem, with every day, sometimes every hour, revealing one confusing experience after another.

It occurred to me this last week that we might learn a little empathy for the disciples, as we are living through unprecedented and disorienting times of our own. This surreal, virtual life we are all managing from our homes, afraid to see anyone or touch anything, with new tragedies popping up overnight first in China, then in Seattle, then in Italy and Spain and New York City and New Orleans and Detroit—and here in LA. And now we are being told that 100,000 Americans might die in the coming weeks—and that would be a good thing, because the alternative is 2,000,000 dead Americans. At this moment, with 2,500 having passed away in the US, can we really believe all that death is before us? On the other hand, can we fully accept that it was only a month ago when the very first American passed away of this mystery disease?

But some of us do have faith that this will blow over. It will be horrible, but it won’t be forever; in our case it might be a matter of months, which isn’t that long, really. Can we ride through these very choppy rapids without panicking, trusting that we will come out of the rapids, perhaps changed but for the most part alive?

And here’s one more parallel with the Easter story—when Jesus rises from the dead, when we do see that happy ending, does that mean we go back to life the way we always knew it, or will the world never be the same?

Some of us are seeing hints that life will not go back to “normal” once this horror has passed. We are seeing glimpses of things that never occurred to us, or we didn’t think possible before. Jeff O’Grady told the people of San Marino that by streaming worship, people with disabilities who didn’t feel comfortable coming into the sanctuary before can now join on equal footing with everyone else. Puente de Esperanza’s Facebook worship attracts and connects people from many nations, and is reaching more people than they would see on a typical Sunday morning. Taiwanese churches join together every Sunday for one joint worship, with leadership coming from multiple different pastors and congregations. And I get to more fully experience the rich ministry of San Gabriel Presbytery, as in one day I can join worship held in Arabic, Taiwanese, Spanish, and English, all without leaving my home or our presbytery family. Truly this crisis has sparked more creativity in the old mainline church than I think I’ve ever witnessed in my lifetime.

This has also tested the way we relate to church finances and stewardship. Many if not most churches automatically assumed their offerings would evaporate, perhaps forever. I don’t yet know what will happen, during this alone-together time, or once we are able to gather again. I do know, and am so grateful to be able to announce, that the Synod of Southern California and Hawaii is offering financial help for presbyteries to help our churches weather this storm, up to $150,000 for each presbytery. Our Presbytery Executive Commission is meeting tomorrow night to discuss how we will implement this, so keep tuning in.

And I have noticed that we can invite people to give in different ways, and the churches who figure out how to make it easier for their people to give, will likely be able to continue to receive offerings far into the future. Just make sure you let folks know, like for One Great Hour of Sharing:

And I also noticed that it’s easier to ask people to remember to give to someone else’s church, so just as Paul asked for funds for the saints in Jerusalem, just as the Taiwanese joint service urged attendees to remember to continue supporting their own congregations, I can urge you to continue to show your faith and gratitude by continuing to give to your church, even during this quiet time. You can even give to the Presbytery of San Gabriel and some key missions of the Presbytery, as we have also streamlined our own online giving portal, at https://sangabpres.org/donate/.

Some of us are also trying to figure out how the Federal government’s recent bill can help our churches. We have posted some information on our website, and continue to listen to webinars and find other resources. But if in fact this is a temporary stall, then depending on the amount of funds you need, it may not be worth the trouble, but you can certainly try, with the forgivable loan from the Small Business Administration (SBA), or worst-case working with the State Employment Development Department (EDD) on cost sharing for staff if your church cannot afford your payroll. But I would ask that you contact me before you lay anyone off.

One final note: as the stress of this uncertainty creeps up, and as you are unexpectedly cooped up with your family and the only place you can act out your frustration is at home, as this situation pushes different buttons in each of us, I ask you to pay attention to your spiritual and emotional concerns, and to reach out if your stress is becoming a gathering storm. My first full-time job was with a battered women’s agency, and we knew that Christmas holidays usually led to increases in domestic violence, mostly because everyone’s in the house. Already two pastors have mentioned family tensions they had to deal with, and I want you to know that domestic violence services are continuing as usual.

We have information on the Board of Pensions’ counseling network (where members and/or family can get 6 free sessions), as well as the names of counselors in our San Gabriel family who are willing to take a call from pastors, and will help identify a referral. It’s all on the sangabpres.org website.

So is it OK to be afraid? Yes. Will there be an end to this confusing time? Yes. Will we soon go back to the way things used to be? Probably not. Will there be help, and companions on the way? Yes. Will God continue to provide for us and save us, as God has always done? Yes. Are we able, through the Holy Spirit, to proclaim the good news of Jesus Christ in many ways, and perhaps in new ways that will reach broken people who didn’t think the church would welcome them? Yes, by the grace of God, yes.

May this season of confusion and creativity, even of terror and amazement, give birth to a new awareness—of the living Christ in our churches, of the abundant blessings God has in store for us as we seek to serve, and of the gifts that arise among us as we work together for the gospel, as the one body of Christ. May we have eyes to see the risen Christ in our midst, now and always.

In Christ we live and love,

Wendy

With all the overload of ever-changing data about the Coronavirus, I sometimes forget that we are still in Lent, which if you think about it is the perfect season for this time.

As you probably know, Lent has been styled after the 40 days Jesus spent in the wilderness before he began his ministry. Now Matthew’s and Luke’s versions of this time in the wilderness involved fasting and multiple tests presented by Satan. But Mark simply gives this short reference, with the intriguing comment that “the angels waited on him.”

Personally I have often thought of Lent as a time of holy disruption—we change our habits (usually by fasting from something familiar or dear to us) which wakes us up to the things we take for granted. When our comfort zone is disturbed, we often become more aware of our need for God—and God’s ever-present care for us, even when we are out in our own wilderness.

This time of physical separation has truly been a time of disruption. I would call it holy, except I don’t want to forget the suffering of the thousands who have contracted the virus, those who have died, and those who do not understand why their families are no longer visiting them. But my colleague in San José Presbytery reminded me of the ethos in Silicon Valley, which sees value in disruption. “Disruption” is the flip side of “breakthrough”—and we all know how breakthroughs in technology have impacted our lives in so many ways. Another lesson from my days in Silicon Valley is the value of failure, the flip side of learning and creativity. In pursuit of breakthroughs, mistakes get made, and clumsy early examples of new technology are celebrated, because they help us to learn, and adjust, and refine rough ideas into something many of us can use.

I have to confess that this time at home is not really a disruption for me. Since my natural tendency is that of a hermit, this has been a time of peace and rest for me. But I know that as with grief, there are multiple ways people are reacting to this disruption. Some folks—pastors included—have gone into overdrive, especially as our churches find ways to stay connected, care for those who are struggling, and find ways to worship, by any means necessary.

What I found on Sunday morning is an explosion of creativity. Even with shifting rules—the churches who did a great job livestreaming on Facebook last week now had to figure out how to lead worship from their respective homes—several of our churches have shown anew what it means to be church.

This disruption strips us down to the question: what constitutes worship? Several churches offered truly beautiful, meaningful on-line worship experiences. La Verne Heights takes advantage of the fact you can pause (and repeat) at points during the service. Churches like Claremont and Knox are holding prayer times throughout the week. Iglesia de la Comunidad committed to continue their food pantry, serving over 150 neighbors last week—and Pasadena is also continuing their ministry with the homeless. Deacons at West Covina and Westminster Temple City are calling church members weekly or daily. Sessions are meeting weekly to keep up with the needs of the church. Church members are posting prayer concerns on Facebook. At one church, who was trying a Zoom-based worship service for the first time (which means it didn’t go exactly smoothly), it was shared that one member posted on Facebook that she couldn’t find toilet paper, so another member dropped off a package of toilet paper—and cookies.

Of course, we aren’t the only ones responding to this crisis with creativity, compassion, and hope. You probably heard about the Choir Festival of the Chino Valley Unified School District getting cancelled, leading the kids to become world-famous through their on-line alone-together performance. And as I mentioned, not every attempt was totally smooth, which made it all the more real and engaging for me. I can’t tell you how inspired, uplifted, and yes sinfully proud I was in worshiping with many of you. And, by the way, this is opening your ministries up to those who might not make it into your sanctuary; I have heard that MEC, Westminster Temple City, and Claremont are now reaching folks they do not see in person on Sunday mornings.

I was planning to write this Monday about using this time to rest in the care of our Lord—and I would still suggest that whether you are slowing down or revving up during this disruption, please be gentle with yourselves and each other, and know that God will be there no matter how you worship and pray. But now I just want to say thank you for revealing your hearts full of worship, and for letting the Holy Spirit work through you in all sorts of ways!

In Christ we live and love,
Wendy