Soul Conversations: Coronavirus and Anxiety

This week has felt like living in a movie- a fast paced, ever moving, a set of a film. Only there are no stagehands, no director’s chairs. There is no one saying “End Scene,” no “Roll Tape” - there is a silence and a fluidity to the motions and the movements, the news stories, the ghost-town’s that are supposed to be bustling- an eeriness of looking at the countenances of passerby and knowing they’re calculating the same things you are.

There is a shock and a terror that has rippled through my blood stream as I have seen the panic of Italy. There has been warmth as I have read about Wuhan’s efforts paying off. There has been fear, hysteria, and even laughter as I have walked into grocery store’s for tomorrow’s breakfast and the line has wrapped out the door, the toilet paper aisle wiped, the bread non-existent, the canned section decked of all but off-brand spaghettios. 

As someone with anxiety, these days are damn hard - Not knowing if it’s panic in your chest or a growing bacteria, not knowing if the swollen lymph nodes are because the kid you babysat for was snotty, or if your lungs are filling up with fluid as we speak. I’m trying to be candid, clear: that the times are hard for me to stomach. They’re hard for me to think about. 

In an attempt to quiet the soul, I have resorted to “Information Gleaning.” Cold sweats at the declarations of: “don’t buy the masks unless you’re sick” coupled with Facebook posts about someone who has caught the virus and believes those same masks would have helped. There is simply fear. There is simply panic. And to wait in line with hot-dogs in hand for a barbecue with those who are bulk buying for the apocalypse because the government has encouraged it: it’s a lot. 

I am writing these things to bring you into the soul conversations of today - to bring you into the fact that as I fell asleep last night I was making a grocery list in my head about items that I need to buy if I’m heading back into the city that is speculated to shut down soon: tangerines (last long if refrigerated), canned beans (if available), bread, almond butter, nuts, dried fruit, chicken broth, rice, toilet paper (if available). 

I don’t understand what’s going on or how it will effect, I can’t seem to configure in my mind what Wuhan and Italy are scrambling and reeling from - I believe a post said the virus has “brought Italy to it’s knees.” To hear: “it is just like the flu - you’ll be okay - wash your hands - don’t panic - be cautious and be careful - stay inside - you could be carrying it right now - we’ve all been exposed - we will be okay - it’s the flu! People die from cancer all the time! - we’ll be ok. We’ve dealt with outbreak before. - this is new, fresh, unheard of, and U.S. is not prepared, et. Al” all at once. Oh my, as someone who struggles with anxiety on the daily, panic on the regular - the hysteria of today is something we are up close and personal with, as a nation, but particularly if you are someone who struggles with What If all the time.

To deliberate with myself in these moments has certainly felt impossible. To hold onto the edge of the sink and make eye contact (deliberate! constructive!) eye contact with self and simply focus on breath - the inhales and the exhales - it’s no joke. I am of the age bracket that is “least effected” and I am afraid. 

There. I said it. 

I am afraid of this unknown virus. I am afraid of tomorrow.

To deliberate with panic and hysteria is hard. And every minute a news report and group message and email alert from food delivery services I’d forgotten I signed up for pour in - while all of this seethes and grows and morphs - the deliberation with fear is needed. Moreso then hand sanitizer, then masks, then stock piling on toilet paper and canned beans and baking products (though, this is important, I think, the preparing *just in case*) 

Here is what I’m doing, what I’m telling myself, how I am functioning today, beyond the physical actions and to-do’s and hygeine and and - all of it. Here is the heart-state. The heart-temperature. The soul conversations.

1. I don’t know what this virus is, don’t know what it feels like, don’t know who it will effect, don’t know how I will be affected. That is OK. It is OK to be in the dark. And we are in the dark. 
1. I can conduct research. I can look at the keyword “Coronavirus” in any number of search engines. I can look at Instagram stories, I can research Tom Hanks’ symptoms, the number of available test kits. I can joke with my Uber driver about how we all need to roll with the punches. But I just don’t know. The same way the stomach bug and the common cold affect every single person easy - I can’t know. I can know that preventative measures include: washing hands 20 seconds at a time. Using hand sanitizer always. Not licking my fingers, picking my nose, et. al. I can hold my breath for 10 seconds and see if I experience discomfort. But I can’t know. I can’t try to comprehend. I can’t understand. I don’t know the virus’ path. I can’t know how it will ultimately end up. I’m trying to figure that out in vain - I cannot know. I cannot know. I cannot know. 
2. Can I rest here? Can I be okay with this lack of knowledge? 
1. Yes.

What I also know: 

1. In this unknown space, and it is a big one. I do *know* the One who saw the world’s formation at time’s dawn, and called it good. He has mapped out each day, each breath, each organ’s growth and operation, each grass-filaments birth and fall, the seasons and their ebb and flow, each butterfly’s wing flutter, each cancerous cell, each growing child stuck in the gestational phase, each hair follicle’s pattern – wave, texture (Psalm 139:13-15). I do know Him. That One. And I can call Him by name. Abba, Father. My Lord and King. My Creator of the Harvest, my Overseer of the Downfall and the Rise, the Rock, the Refuge, the Strength, the Final Say, the Sky-Breather, the Ocean-Keeper, the Virus-Knower, the Master-Physician. The Gentle Father. The Merciful Savior.
1. I know that He knows this virus front to back, back to front. Sees the DNA strand from afar, has orchestrated it, has moved it, has ordained it for His Glory and Our Benefit(Job 12:9-10)— sum totality of humanity. Individual. Perhaps has even allowed it for Good. Can I argue with this? Can I call Him faithful if it doesn’t look the way I want it to? Can I call Him good if the world reels and turns? 

What I also know: 

1. That His ways are higher and wider and deeper and better then we could ever ask or imagine or conjure up. (Isaiah 55:8-9) Our finite, human understanding cannot fathom the way he has woven today into the grand plan.
2. He will strengthen us and keep us (Isaiah 41:10), protect us (Psalm 91:14), provide for us in this wilderness (Psalm 78:20), the way He did for David in front of the Giant. The way he provided for the Savior King bound to a flesh body, hanging on a cross. The way he has already provided for me.
3. That this life is an instant, a flash, a flicker in the midnight air.  (Psalm 39:4-5, Psalm 103:15-16) But His love is forever (Psalm 103:17). That in the turning and trying of today, in that fear, that He lives (Psalm 90:2). He holds (Psalm 139:8-10). That my Tomorrow, my Ultimate Tomorrow is secure (Titus 1:2, 1 Peter 1:3-5)
4. We don’t have to know to trust and to experience peace because we know He who Is peace.

As I hold onto the edge of the sink, grip my phone and scroll through page after page of count updates, as another email pours in: I cannot know tomorrow, tomorrow’s fate, tomorrow’s news, tomorrow’s victims, tomorrow’s victors. I can know and *do* know the One who ordains it. I *Can* ask him for wisdom to lead me into the depths. Can push into the things He calls true. Can look to him for steadying, when hand sanitizer, news reports, deep breaths don’t do what they’re supposed to. I can say: Lord, I don’t understand. I trust you. Lord, have mercy. I trust your judgement. Lord, your will be done, hold us closer, Father. Keep us safe as you see fit. 

I can apply hand-sanitizer knowing that it cannot stop what is the invevitable outcome (good and bad! Positive and negative!). I *can* pray for healing and protection and provision, knowing that He will provide all that we need. Knowing that tomorrow is His the way today is. That he Knows. Sees. Hears. And He will not give us more than we can handle without providing a way of endurance. 

I am listening to this playlist and singing the songs and letting the truths of it simply wash over the soul. And today, I am reading these words. And He will see us through and through and through. And through. 

Dear, friend. It is okay to be afraid, okay to not have the answers, okay to keep researching, okay to wear that mask, okay to apply hand sanitizer another time. But this we know for sure, and it is for this reason (not in hand sanitizers! or the soap we stocked up on! but for THIS reason) that we hope: He holds us. He holds you. And He will not let a hair fall from your head, will not let a person be touched with this virus, that is not apart of His good, good plan. 

“I will trust the One who steadies me I will wait and have no shameAs You make me know Your waysAll my days are Yours Take me by the hand and lead me in Your truthTeach my soul to rest only in You. 
For You are the One who saves the length of my days
My hope rests only in you 
Forever I will fix my eyes 
On the rock who stands much higher.”

–Red Rocks Worship, 25