We all live on a certain plot of land. We live within a measured acreage; our home is a certain square footage. We live in a particular location that has a size and shape.

Our lives have a certain width and breadth. The reach of our relationships and influence is different for each of us; we all touch a unique set of other lives that no one else touches.

Of my own knowledge of God. Proverbially, I am my own worst enemy. Metaphorically I am my own rock and my own hard place. Spiritually I am my own dead weight. Literally I am just a natural creature trying to seek after a supernatural Creator.

Flannery O’Connor, in her prayer journal, writes a prayer worth weaving into my daily prayers:

Because everything is connected. Everything has an effect, however small or large, on something else.

The thing is, I often have more options than I realize. It’s far too easy to passively go with the flow, to just allow things to happen to me, within me, and through me. But the good news is than I can allow certain triggers to be pulled. I can also leave the safety on for other triggers. The triggers I allow to be pulled will lead me either in the direction of brokenness or in the direction of wholeness.

Or at least we’re good at believing that we’re supposed to figure things out. We’re good at convincing ourselves that figuring things out is part of responsible adulting.

Often times we think we’re quite good at figuring things out—that is, when our calculations seem to add up. We get quite embarrassed and frustrated when we can’t seem to figure things out. So we buy more books and read more blogs and download more podcasts and bang our heads against more walls.

Yesterday I unplugged from all news media outlets and social media. All day. A full 24 hours. It was our normal weekly Sabbath day, but this kind of fast isn’t usually a part of my practice. It might become a regular thing.

Here are a few random observations after going off the grid for a day:

Throughout history there have been those who have chosen to engage in “social distancing” for lengths of time. Some for ascetic reasons. Some for philosophical reasons. Some for artistic reasons. Some for neurotic reasons. Some for religious reasons. Today, we’re all doing social distancing, to one degree or another, for public health reasons.

In the Christian tradition we have a group that we call the Desert Fathers. They were early Christian hermits, monks who lived mainly in the deserts of Egypt around the third century AD. They developed rigorous rhythms of prayer and Scripture reading, forsaking worldly wealth and prestige. Eventually monastic communities grew up around them that became the model for monasticism.

They’re an interesting bunch to read from and about.

No one likes it. We like being in control of outcomes. We like being in control of pacing. 

We don’t handle it well when the waiting is in someone else’s hands. We like it even less when the waiting is in the hands of something much broader and unpredictable–like, say, a pandemic.

An indefinite season of waiting.

The question is what are we waiting for? Perhaps many things: for the Coronavirus to run its’ course; for officials’ next decisions or recommendations; for labs to produce more tests; for scientists to develop a vaccine; for our bosses to make decisions that affect our employment; for school systems to announce the next steps; for… for… for…
Our “waiting for” list could be quite extensive and overwhelming at this point.

I realized this morning that my regular todo list is almost entirely deprecated. The vast majority of projects and/or tasks that I typically do in a normal week are either no longer needed or greatly simplified for the immediate future.

It’s a little frustrating because I usually depend on my pre-thought-out todo list to guide me in doing what is best to do rather than what I feel like doing. It’s a little unnerving and disorienting because it’s almost like re-writing my job from scratch.

That’s the present bad news, but there is also future good news: This moment brings a three-fold opportunity:

That’s what I feel like saying today. COVID-19 sure is making a mess of things. If I’m honest I can more quickly come up with a list of things to complain about than things to be grateful for. And if I’m really honest, I just wanna wallow in that for a bit. And if I’m really, really honest, I don’t care if that makes anyone think less of me. And yet on an even deeper level if I’m really, really, really honest I know none of that is healthy.

Thankfully the Spirit of God within me brings to mind things like this:

Let them give thanks to the Lord for his unfailing love

and his wonderful deeds for mankind.

(Psalm 107:8)

Are the bread and butter of leadership.

Most of the time that really sucks. It might just be the worst part about being a senior leader who is responsible for making decisions that affect a bunch of people that are deeply loved. Why? Here’s what my experience thus far has taught me:

The higher the stakes are, the less clear the “right” decision is.