I have shared on different occasions through a variety of media
that one of the most formative occurrences of my life was the loss of my
younger brother to leukemia when I was 12 years old. My adolescence was shaped
by this painful intrusion of death into my immediate family. Years later, I would
face my own mortality as I battled cancer myself. Both of these experiences
have given me a certain outlook on life I might not have had otherwise.
Not that I do not ever get anxious or upset about
circumstances, but I find myself able to achieve some peace by asking
myself a question many would find morbid: “If I were on my deathbed right now,
would this matter anymore?” Like I said, some would find this a morose
approach, but it helps me prioritize things of import over those that will
fade. I use this “deathbed philosophy” to calm myself down about things ranging
from loss of material items to conflicts with certain people. It’s similar to
saying “this too shall pass.”
As I write this, we are facing an uncertain future and
collective anxiety I can only compare to the days immediately following 9/11. The
threat of the COVID-19 virus has caused global concern and experts tell us the
worst is yet to come. All of this is leading many people who would otherwise
shun my deathbed philosophy to seriously consider what really matters in their
lives. We may all share some apprehension about basic needs such as toilet
paper and cleaning supplies, but I expect the greatest concerns are over our
loved ones. I do not enjoy being socially distant from my family and friends. My
little coping mechanism only goes so far. It gives me perspective, but there
are times I need much more.
This coming Sunday, the Common Lectionary leads us to look
at one of the most well-known Scriptures we have…Psalm 23. Within it we find
the words, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will
fear no evil.” This may resonate with us strongly over the next few months. The
source of our comfort, however, is not shallow bravado but rather the words
that follow: “For Thou art with me.”
The Message reads: “Even when the way goes through Death
Valley, I’m not afraid when you walk at my side.” We are not alone. We are
given courage by our faith in the very real presence of God to see us through
this. This is what gives me a “peace that transcends understanding” (Philippians 4:7) that guards
my heart and mind. As we eventually emerge from our self-quarantine and seek normalcy,
I hope any priority shifts you may be experiencing now do not fade along with
the crisis. May goodness and mercy and love follow you the rest of your days
until we dwell in the House of the Lord forever.