Life during a Pandemic – Tanya Dennis Books

If I had a tattoo…

People love to cite the first part of Proverbs 31:25:

“She is clothed with strength and dignity…”

But the last half of that verse is my favorite. In fact, if I ever get a tattoo, it will either be a black-eyed susan around the birthmark on my back OR it will be the second half of this verse… somewhere I can see it.

“She laughs without fear of the future.”

You know, 2020 was supposed to be the worst year ever. That’s what everybody said. It was a dumpster fire, and nothing was supposed to top it. Smooth sailing from then on, right?

No one saw 2021 standing in the wings waiting to make 2020 look lovely. Peaceful and even a little life-giving.

This year has been rough. I could make a list of all of the unprecedented, never-before imagined things that have happened in and to our family in the past ten months. I won’t, because it’s depressing. And it’s not the end of the story anyway.

There are nights I don’t sleep.
There are days I cry and eat way too much chocolate.
There are times I haven’t a clue what or how to pray at all.
And so I breathe in.
I breathe out.

And I remember that that woman I admire so much from Proverbs isn’t laughing out of ignorance or insanity. She’s laughing because she knows exactly who holds the future. She doesn’t need to fear, because all her tomorrows are already ordained. She doesn’t know what they hold, and she has no promise that they’ll be better than today. But she knows the One who holds them, and she delights in the confidence of His great love for her.

Me, too, beloved. Me, too.
If you have to learn the hard way, start asking these four questions.
Scripture is a funny thing. A group of people can read a passage together, and each member of that group could extract different layers. The Holy Spirit speaks to us through God’s Word, both corporately and individually. And the more you read it, the more you see. Sometimes what we see first, what rings most familiar and comfortable, may not be the point at all.

He humbled you by letting you go hungry; then He gave you manna to eat, which you and your fathers had not known, so that you might learn that man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of the LORD.
Deuteronomy 8:3

When you read this verse, what do you see? What sticks out to you most?

This is a familiar passage, in part. Jesus quoted the bit about man not living on bread alone when refuting the temptations of Satan prior to beginning His public ministry (Matthew 4:4 and Luke 4:4). So we probably recognize that, but have we looked at the rest of the verse? The context of Deuteronomy may be less familiar to us. Who said this? To whom? And what is he talking about? Let’s take a look.

What’s the deal with Deuteronomy?

Deuteronomy means “second law.” It’s the fifth book of the Bible, and its name is quite appropriate since this is the second time the Israelites were given the Law.

The first time was when Moses received the tablets on the top of Mount Sinai. This story most remember. Moses came down the mountain to find the people worshipping a golden calf they had created from the jewelry they were given while leaving Egypt. Not a great moment.

But think about it: These people had been living in a pagan nation for over 400 years. They had been oppressed and enslaved and didn’t really understand what God expected of them. That’s why they needed the Law to show them how God’s Chosen People were to live differently.

Fast forward a bit: God led them right to the Promised Land, but fear ruled the majority of the spies. They told everyone what they saw, and the people refused to enter. Because they refused to trust Him, God sent them on a little hike and gave them a little time to think.

Deuteronomy comes after forty years of wandering, right before the Israelites made their second attempt to enter the Promised Land. With very few exceptions, the generation that walked through the Red Sea and heard the Law from Moses died in the desert. Their children were now leading the tribes. It was their turn to hear the Law for themselves. Thus — Deuteronomy. Second Law.

Deuteronomy gives this new generation of Israelites a fresh start. It’s a combination of history — Hey, this is what went down. These are the promises God made to your ancestors, and this is how they responded. — and instruction — Remember those promises. Remember the lessons and the consequences. You now get to choose a better way.

Context is vital.

Let’s look at that verse again.

He humbled you by letting you go hungry; then He gave you manna to eat, which you and your fathers had not known, so that you might learn that man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of the LORD.
Deuteronomy 8:3

Some will look at this and skip right to the familiar bits at the end. See! — we need to study our Scriptures! Physical hunger is less important than our spiritual needs.

Some will look at the beginning and see judgment and cruelty. See! — God let them go hungry! He’s sadistic. When He does feed them, it’s some weird food they’ve never seen before.

We can see the beginning of the verse or we can emphasize the end, but if we skip the middle, we’ve missed the whole point. The middle is our context. It’s our WHY.

…so that you might learn…

God is a good Father. He didn’t lead the Israelites into the desert to kill them. He didn’t send them out there to die and be punished. He sent them out there to wander and learn of His goodness and faithfulness to them. He wanted them to learn to trust Him.

Why didn’t they go into the Promised Land when He led them right to it? Because they were afraid. They were trusting in themselves instead of trusting in Him. They needed to see that they could not provide for themselves — not food or water or protection. They needed to learn that God is their Provider and Protector. He is the One who will fight their battles for them.

Learning the Hard Way

Have you ever had to learn the hard way? Or known someone who insists on the rougher route?

Just like the Israelites, we can lean on our own understanding.
Just like the Israelites, we can forget God and all that He’s done for us.
Just like the Israelites, we sometimes get sent on a little hike.

Maybe the job opportunity didn’t come through as we’d hoped.
Maybe healing didn’t come as fast or in the way we expected.
Maybe a global pandemic sent all our plans flying out the window.

We all want to be in control and when we realize we’re not, our equilibrium can go wonky. We may question things we know to be true (like God’s character or sovereignty) and we may temporarily lose our way. We often feel very, very alone.

Sometimes what looks like abandonment is actually opportunity.

You know, when the Israelites were in the desert, God provided for them, but not bread they recognized. He gave them a miraculous new food, one they couldn’t possibly credit to their own efforts or merit. It was a gift.

Ask questions.

When things don’t go the way we want, let’s ask questions.
- How can we better TRUST God through this?
- What can we LEARN from this?
- What NEW THING might come from this?
- What GIFTS is God giving us right now?
Could there be a silver lining here?
When our son was five years old, he fell and shattered his femur into three pieces.

‘Shattered’ may sound a little dramatic, but when you watch your little guy suffer, when every nurse or doctor interrogates you over what happened, when someone in the ER finally confesses that typically injuries like this are caused by baseball bats … well, we may be excused a little dramatic language.

Long story short… He and his sister were playing on one of those awesome, wooden play forts. He tripped, his sandal caught, and flipped him upside down, smashing his leg against the metal rod of a ladder.

Two hospitals, one long ambulance ride, several sleepless hours, a lot of morphine, and one surgery later, my son was bound ribs to toes in what’s called a hip-spica cast. He had this for ten weeks.
This all happened on Memorial Day Weekend. In other words: our summer was immediately and irrevocably changed.

Even after the summer ended and the cast was removed, we faced four months of physical therapy. He had to learn to walk again. School was different, too, as not all classrooms were handicap-accessible.

It was definitely an unexpected season of stretching for our family.

Once, as we went through old photos and reminisced about that season, Zach said: “I feel bad for kids who never broke their legs.”

Baffled, I asked why.

“They never get to spend all summer at home with their families. They don’t get to spin in wheelchairs or have friends draw on their cast. They never get to use handicapped parking or have everyone bring them gifts for doing nothing. I loved that summer.”

Zach has a different perspective, both on that experience and on 2020.

Finding the Silver Lining

When I think back on that summer, my stomach clenches a bit. I groan inwardly, remembering how hard it was. All the bad pieces come to mind. The sacrifices. The difficulties. So much was out of our control. Plans shifted. Dreams were put on hold. Luxuries vanished. I felt trapped. We were forced to learn new life skills and remember what was most important.

I have the same visceral reaction when thinking about 2020.

While I sit here, sighing heavily over all that was lost, Zach insists this has been the best year of his life. Now, he’s not ignorant of the sacrifices or the grieving this year has brought. His baseball season certainly was not normal. He’s seen the changes we’ve had to make, the impact on my job and our family. (This was NOT a good year to work in the travel industry!) He’s had friends lose parents and grandparents. We’ve felt the impact of this pandemic on a very personal, very local level.

But like I said, he sees things a little differently.

At 15, he can’t imagine why anyone would ever want to go back to school when you could do all your work online and in half the time. He’s an introvert, so he’s thrilled to be stuck at home! He’s perfectly content to eat the same meals over and over for weeks without end. Add to this increased frequency of family game nights and mid-week movies… regular pajama days … more time to hang out with his dog … This kid is in heaven.

We all know this year has been rough. Really, really rough. There’s no denying that. But what if we flip the lens? What if, for just a moment, we stop focusing on the hard bits and look for something beautiful?

What good came of this year?
What did we gain by stripping so much away?

What creative solutions were we pushed to find?
How did those benefit us and others?

What might we have missed if we hadn’t had this journey?

This isn’t just an exercise of reflection, but also one of expectation. What might we — or our kids — be set up to do in the future because of the experiences of this year?

How might these trials have equipped us for greater ministry?
To serve better? To love others better?

I would really love to hear your perspectives on all this.
How to find refreshment: Be with your tribe.

My morning started off in a brilliant way.

Well, actually it started in a coffee-fueled carpool to school, followed by a long-overdue workout and lengthy shower. But AFTER THAT — I had a zoom call with a friend I’ve known for a super-long time, but had not — until this morning — actually met. It was the sweetest time!

I have no photographic proof (because it was a rather gloomy morning weather-wise, and I did not look cute, thanks to the aforementioned work-out), but it happened and, hours later, I am still reveling in the joy of it.

We talked about work and dreams and answered prayers. We talked about frustrations with family and politics and a deep desire to see the Church truly walking in the way of Christ. We talked about books and home decor and how to properly pronounce the name of someone you’ve known for years, but only in print. I loved every second of it.

I’m being a touch effusive here, but I can’t help it. DELIGHT and REFRESHMENT filled my soul. And I so needed that today! A smile hasn’t left my face.

This has been a crazy year for all of us. It’s been a crazy season, and we’re all feeling weary. We’re emotionally drained and struggling to make it one day after another.

LISTEN TO ME. This is really important.

Take time to connect with your tribe.

Find those kindred spirits who will fill you, encourage you, celebrate with you, lament with you, pray for you. It may sound lavish or even selfish, when the world pushes you toward measurable productivity, but just do it.

We all need safe spaces to breathe and laugh and remember we’re not alone and that there is much, much more to life than mere survival.

“Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art…. It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival.”
C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves
You still get to choose.

This has been a strange season.

I don’t need to convince anyone of that, but maybe we all need a reminder that, no matter what this year throws at us, we still get to choose the path we take.

We can choose to see the challenges of this year as opportunities or as limitations and burdens.

Opportunity to serve, to encourage, to celebrate, to grow and stretch and change. Opportunity to try new things, to settle into quieter times, to love on our families in more specific ways. We’ve been at home, restricted, confined, limited. But these are opportunities, too.

When someone complains about a situation, will we join the grumbling? Will we listen to their pain? Will we offer grace and hope?

When someone makes a political declaration, will we take up arms? Instantly unfriend? Rally the troops and engage the fight? Or will we hear them out and ask questions to further understand? To share ideas? To deepen relationships and chase unity?

This year has taken a lot from us, but it has also given us a lot. Don’t squander the opportunities. Choose who you want to be and what path you want to take.
We are together, but not alone.

These are crazy times. Heavy times. It feels like every night we go to bed praying and every morning we wake worrying and wondering.

What will we do? When will this end? How will our kids go to school? Will they be safe?
Are we making the right choices? What about our jobs? What about our finances?
What about community? How do we serve? How do we protect?

Life is chaotic, ever-changing. We have choices to make, but only clusters of incomplete information with which to make them. It’s exhausting. Frustrating. Draining. Isolating.

But we are not alone.

There are two sides to this that I want to explore.

We are all in this together.

The other day I was speaking with a dear one who insisted that “no one understands” what she’s going through. She complained about having to wear a mask and not being able to go everywhere she wants to go, but that was the end of her woes. Now, this is not a competition, but I know many people who have suffered much more than these mere inconveniences. Even so, she was beside herself with grief and pity. She couldn’t see that we’re in this together.

Side One: Everyone is enduring inconvenience and adjustments.

No one is living their “best life” right now. We’re managing a global health crisis and that means EVERYONE is affected. None of us — not you, not me, not the neighbors down the street or across the state line — are alone in this crisis.

Let me be blunt: Some people need to stop expecting exceptions and recognize that we’re all in this together. And no one is particularly happy about it. So let’s try a little harder to make the best of it.

Now for Side Two. I promise to be a little kinder with this point. 😉

We are together, but not alone.

Society wants to sing “We are the World” and exalt shared community. Okay. Sure, we’re “all in this together”, but I find little comfort in knowing I’m surrounded by other fallible humans who are in the same sinking boat. We’re all struggling. No one knows the future and few know what to do in the present. Frankly, I’d rather know who’s controlling the waves than who’s clueless next to me.

Fortunately, we are not alone. There is Someone who is standing with and fighting for us.

“Therefore he is able to save completely those who come to God through him, because he always lives to intercede for them.”
– Hebrews 7:25 (emphasis mine)

Not only has God sent his Holy Spirit to indwell those who belong to Him – this Spirit granting strength, guidance, and comfort to those who call upon his name – but He has kept his Son, Jesus Christ our Savior, close by to serve as intercessor and advocate on our behalf.

Beth Moore wrote this:

“The Son of God occupies the seat at the right hand of God
where He is the designated High Priest, the divine Intercessor for His people.
Christ LIVES to pray for us.”

After extrapolating the exact definition of the Greek word for intercede, she continues:

“[Christ] prays for us with familiarity. He is completely familiar with the Father
and with us. He prays for us with complete knowledge and understanding of God’s perfect will, His ultimate plan, our deepest desires, and our greatest needs.
He qualifies, therefore, as the perfect ‘go-between.’”

Oh, how thankful I am for an advocate that SEES. One who KNOWS. Not just what’s going on, by who knows ME. Who knows my deepest desires and needs and doubts and fears and he fights for me. And for you. He IS the perfect High Priest.

We get to choose where we look.

Do you remember the story of Peter walking on water? It’s found in Matthew 14. The disciples were in a boat, the waves and wind going crazy, when suddenly they saw Jesus walking toward them. They were terrified, thinking he was a ghost. He called out to them, “Have courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.” Peter being Peter responded, “Lord, if it’s you, command me to come to you on the water.” Jesus did, and Pete got out of the boat. He walked on water.

Now, we love to read this story and criticize what comes next. Pete notices the waves and the wind (which have not calmed down) and gets scared, immediately beginning to sink. We want to point out Peter’s insufficient faith (which Christ does in the next verse), but I want us to note – Pete got out of the boat. He walked on water. Not only that, as soon as he started to sink, he called out to Christ – and Christ saved him.

Taking eyes off of Christ does not negate the courage required to get out of the boat. Peter showed tremendous faith, faith not exhibited by any of the other disciples on that boat that night.

Taking our eyes off of Christ is not fatal. It’s human. And we all do it sometimes. We begin to focus on our circumstances rather than our Savior. Doing so definitely makes our journey more perilous, but it doesn’t sentence us to isolation. Christ is still there for us, ready to save when we call out to Him.

We have lots of choices these days. We can focus on ourselves and how upset we are that life isn’t great. We can focus on our fears and what we don’t know or what we imagine (or whatever new conspiracy theory threatens our peace). Or we can focus on God, trusting Christ to advocate and intercede for us during these difficult times.

And here’s some really good news: every day we get to choose.

The choices we made yesterday don’t define today and today doesn’t define tomorrow. His mercies are new every day. We can choose Him every day.
Ways to Get Out of the Pit
If you read my last post, you know I have good days and bad days and I’m learning to be okay with not being okay. I don’t want to just leave it there, so even though I am no expert on escaping dark moods, I want to share a few things that help me. Maybe they’ll help you too.

Limit negative exposures.

What is it that’s getting you down? What feeds into your dark emotions and invites you further into the pit? Identify those triggers, then see how you can limit or avoid them.

For me, it’s the news. Not just the news, but conversations about the news and politics, the incessant social media drone of debate and toxic discourse. I don’t even want to call it “discourse” since so much of it involves mocking, ridicule, and attack rather than sound exchanges of ideas and opinions. THAT I could handle. But that’s not often what I find, so I need to limit my exposure.

Read intentionally.

Find something that will challenge you, encourage you, or help you escape. Hmm…maybe that should be Elevate, Encourage, Escape. That sounds very organized and inspired, right? Sure. My point is that you need to get out of your own head. Or rather, let someone else into your head to shift your thinking.

I never read just one book at a time. Right now I’m reading Identity Theft (a nonfiction book about rooting your personal identity in Christ and what God says of you), Get Out of Your Head (a nonfiction book about spiritual warfare and the power to take every thought captive), and From Sky to Sky (a speculative fiction work about immortals among us). Each of these is helping me get out of my pit.
- <a href="https://amzn.to/3aAcoPw"
Identity Theft is reminding of Scriptural truths about who I am and what I am called to be. Get Out of Your Head is helping me combat some long-seated lies I’ve held about myself and my position in community. From Sky to Sky is offering me escape. It’s letting me rest my thoughts on things completely different from my everyday life and current situation.

Complete a project. Any project.

Sometimes the pit stems from a lack of purpose or control. Finding a project and completing it feels good. It offers a temporary, but solid, measurable sense of control and purpose. It doesn’t matter what the project is. It could be something creative or practical or even both. Maybe painting a table. Organizing your pantry. Cleaning out your closet. Making a menu for the week. Trying a new recipe. Any of this will do!

The form of the project doesn’t matter.
What matters is that you finish it.

Starting a project doesn’t have the same impact. In fact, it may cause a reverse effect. It’s fun and a little exciting, but rather than giving you a sense of accomplishment, it could add to your stress by putting one more thing on your list of “things you have to do.” We want to experience success, not further burden. So find a project you know you can finish and get it done.

Connect with others.

I feel a little hypocritical saying this, but … we need community. I tend to isolate, especially when I’m in a dark place. I don’t want to burden others; I want to encourage them! So when I get in a pit, I tend to stay there by myself until I can dig my way out. On my own. But I have learned — I am learning that I can get out of that pit a lot faster when I invite others into it with me. Not that I want them in the pit, but they don’t want me there either. They can help me get out. They can often see things I can’t. They can show me that the pit isn’t as deep and dark as I imagine. Together we can overcome it.

How can we connect with others? Reach out. It’s as simple as a text or phone call. A coffee date or an invitation to … anything (once everything opens up again). It doesn’t have to be complicated.

One little thing though … You need to be brave. Connection doesn’t come simply reaching out. You need to open up, too. I’m not suggesting you lay bare all your secrets, but choose to share. Be honest with your feelings. Pray together. You can live in parallel or you can live in community. Community is a riskier, but it beats being alone.

Laugh.

I’m not kidding. Find something that makes you laugh. A ridiculous movie. A game with your kids. A lip sync battle with old friends via Zoom. Find something that makes you laugh. Not a polite little giggle, but a toes-deep, soul-cleansing, make-you-cry laugh.

Admit fear, but refuse to submit to it.

“For God did not give us a Spirit of fear but of power and love and self-control.”
— 2 Timothy 1:7 (NET)

Timothy, the original recipient of this letter from Paul, faced persecution and great difficulties. Paul even urges him to “by God’s power accept your share of suffering for the gospel.”

I don’t want to start a “biggest loser” game in which we compare who has it worse: you or me, us or the early church leaders. It doesn’t matter. The point is that God has not changed. If He has the power to get Timothy through those days, He has the power to get us through these. If we have accepted Christ as Savior, then we have the same Spirit Paul speaks of here, and it is not a spirit that surrenders to fear. Fear is real, but it does not own us. We have been granted freedom and can thereby lay hold of the power, love, and self-control the Spirit who lives in us possesses.

Acknowledge fear, but refuse to live there.

How? Spend time with God. Pray. Read your Bible. Listen to worship music, not just in the background, but meditate on the words. Focus on the attributes of God and the truths of His Word.

“You will keep the mind that is dependent on You in perfect peace,
for it is trusting in You.”
— Isaiah 26:3 (HCSB)

YOUR TURN: Tell me what you do to get out of the pits. What helps you shed the funk?
It’s okay if you’re not okay.
It was a simple enough text.

I should have been able to answer it easily, quickly, without much thought.

I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
That text sat unanswered on my phone for hours.
Overnight even. I stewed over my reply.

Should I be honest?

Not great. I’m struggling. The world is falling apart and it sucks and I hate it and I feel like I’m slipping into a dark place.

Or should I put on my well-worn mask of positivity and encouragement?

We’re good! The kids are loving remote schooling. Everyone is healthy. It’s so nice to have all this extra time together as a family. ❤ How are YOU??

Both responses are true.

We ARE good. We are so blessed it’s ridiculous. My job has imploded obviously — No one is booking travel these days! — but we don’t depend on my income to make ends meet, and my husband is able to work from home. We have food, shelter, health, education… Even the dog is fine.

But we’re also NOT good. I’m an extrovert. There’s no hiding that. I didn’t realize how MUCH I needed other people and wide spaces, though, until I was trapped in this house with the same four people for days — WEEKS! — without end.

So how am I?

I’m sad. I’m overwhelmed. I’m discouraged and tired and weary.

And that’s okay.

Too often we feel like we have to be happy. Not just happy, but chipper. Not just chipper, but a buoy for everyone else.

We want to encourage and uplift, but that could mean sitting in the muck with others rather than trying to lift them out. Sometimes encouragement comes from being vulnerable and truthful about how we really feel in a situation.

As a society we now scoff at #firstworldproblems. We’ve invalidated the frustrations and complaints of anyone who lives seemingly better than most. The result: those who know they have it good feel they should never confess discontent.

I’m not dealing with world hunger or devastating poverty. My daughter is not being trafficked and my son is not an addict. My husband is good and loving and kind. But none of this means that roses are popping up every morning and little woodland creatures sing while cleaning my house. It doesn’t mean that I don’t struggle. Nor does it mean that I need to downplay my honest feelings about life.

And neither do you.

Right now the world is upside down. Life is crazy, and we’re all going through something none of us have experienced before. IT IS OKAY TO FEEL UNSETTLED.

Having negative emotions does not negate our faith nor deny that we know we’re blessed. Faith is not proven by ever-present positive attitudes.

Want proof? Read the Psalms. These writings are filled with despair, but no one looks at them and shakes a judgmental head at the authors. No. We strive to learn from them, to glean wisdom and faith through their example.

So here’s my advice for today: Take the time to feel what you feel. Then choose not to get stuck there.

Sure, I spent time falling apart last week. I curled up on the floor next to my bed and cried. I lamented our lack of control. I confessed my sadness and discouragement and how I didn’t see a light at the end of the tunnel (or rather: an end to this stay-at-home quarantine order). But once my tears were spent, I got up off the floor.

When you read through those biblical psalms of lament, the ones in which the authors cry out to God in pain and frustration, you’ll notice two things:
1. The psalmists are not afraid to be honest with God. They call Him out from their limited perspectives, accusing Him of judgment, rejection, punishment, silence, apathy… all kinds of ill-treatment. They confess their true feelings and demand attention. They want their enemies slaughtered; they want restoration, and they want it now. We think of the Psalms as beautifully-phrased poetry — and they are! But they’re also courageously honest.
2. The psalmists don’t stay in the pits. Almost every one of those psalms ends with praise. The writers vent and yell and cry and plead, but then they remember who God is and the power and position He holds.
Go ahead. Look for yourself. Spend some time today in the Psalms minding the journeys and patterns of petition.
Now let’s imitate that.

Yes, we’re in a difficult situation now, so let’s be honest about it. Shout out your feelings, your fears, your frustrations to God. God isn’t surprised by our true thoughts. Nor is He intimidated by our proclamations of them. Why?

Because of who He is.

He is the Creator. He is a good, good Father who loves us and seeks to bring us favor. He is POWERFUL and He has this whole world — including this pandemic — in His very capable hands.

Does this mean He’s going to cure it immediately? That all who are sick will walk away healed? That the economy will be saved and our nation will thrive more than ever before?

No.
Maybe.
I don’t know.

None of us know the answers to those questions. We don’t know exactly what the future holds. What we can know right now is this: HE IS.

Rest in God alone, my soul,
for my hope comes from Him.
He alone is my rock and my salvation,
my stronghold; I will not be shaken.
My salvation and glory depend on God;
my strong rock, my refuge is in God.
Trust in Him at all times, you people;
pour out your hearts before Him.
God is our refuge.
— Psalm 63:5–8 (HCSB)