Noah's Ark; or how to Shelter in Place

Usually when we trot out the story of Noah's ark it's either an extremely watered down and G-rated version for children, or it's to talk about Noah's extreme faith and obedience.

But I want to get beyond cutesy coloring pages, flannel boards, and first impression take aways. I don't claim to be a brilliant theologian. I struggle with Lewis as much as the next guy unless we're adventuring in Narnia. However, it seems to me that when we want to learn how to shelter in place, Noah is the only one we have to turn to.

The Israelites wandered, David fled all over the countryside from Saul, Joshua conquered, and Daniel defied.... but Noah got locked inside and had to stay.

It's really easy to gloss over that. We talk about the preparation to build the boat. How he must've been laughed at and mocked. We talk about the animals coming two by two (and the seven for ceremonial reasons). We talk about the forty days and nights of torrential rain. And we talk about the dove and the olive branch and the rainbow.

There's actually a whole heck of a lot of time between God sealing the door shut and when Noah and family disembarked. It's about a year actually. About twelve months of sheltering in place. No leaving. Not even for a gallon of milk. Of course, they had a cow so that must've helped.

I've been in on lengthy discssions about the animals. Were they babies? Did God allow them to sleep so the scary ones didn't eat everybody on board? And what about the saltwater and freshwater creatures?

But right now, I wanna know about Noah and his family. And we simply just don't know. The scriptures don't tell us how they felt and what they did. Yet, I think we can make some inferences here with our own experiences of the unprecedented.

That word. It's ubiquitous now, isn't it? But we don't have any other way of saying, "I've never done this before! None of us have! I don't know what to do!" Instead we say, "oh, this is so unprecedented!" And Noah surely must've felt that strain. It had never rained before. And we also know waters erupted from below the Earth's crust. Um, yikes. If I've never seen or heard rain before, and it's a continuous torrential downpour and there's also water coming UP from the ground, I'm going to be scared. I assume Noah and his people were afraid.

That doesn't mean they didn't have faith. That doesn't mean their righteousness was diminished. It means they were humans living through something they had never lived through before. And I don't care what it is--that always creates some fear. Even good things we've never done before make our pits sweat--like falling in love or talking to your favorite banjo boy in actual rational sentences. It took me 2 years but whatever. The point is, new things are scary things. And when those things are actually destructive and threatening, it's normal to be scared.

Even if the danger is "out there." Noah and family knew that they were safe inside their ark. But how do you float in peace, knowing that others are suffering outside? I have to assume this was a very dark and difficult experience for the Noahs. Perhaps it was even traumatic despite the fact that they weren't at risk.

So the rains finally stop. They float awhile longer. The boat finally comes to rest on Mt. Ararat. They wait awhile longer. They open up a window and the ground isn't ready to sustain life. So they wait. Then the bit with the birds. And they wait.

There was so much waiting. Can we also go ahead and assume the Noahs got bored? The same eight people for a year. And...well, for a long time after that actually. The same animals. At some point, the lions and lemurs and llamas had to stop being a novelty. Unless the sons of Noah were like the Wild Kratts. In which case, I'm going to assume their wives wanted a real break from all the over excitement after a while. Yes, I think they got bored and they got tired of each other. The logistics of sleeping, eating, bathing, cleaning, and just living day after day in a boat with your parents, siblings, and in-laws had to be a real exercise in patience.

Yep, I think this is us right now. We're stuck inside and starting to go bonkers already. And let's face it: We're scared. We're inside aware of the suffering outside in our hospitals, around the world. And unlike the Noahs, we don't know for sure that we're safe and sound even as we shelter in place. This virus is "slippery". That seems to be an actual term to describe it as it mutates and spreads. I don't like slippery, even when we're talking about soap. I like to have a grip on things. And right now, that's really hard to achieve.

And if you're one of the "essentials" who has to go to work all the advice to make the most of this doesn't apply to you. And if you're a healthcare worker, truly, my prayers are with you.

So where's the happy takeaway? Don't worry, I do have one.

Here's what else I deduce from what we don't know about Noah: God must've been performing miracles in their midst as they sheltered in place. Somehow or another all the animals fit and they didn't eat each other up. The specifics are unknown but clearly, miraculous. They had enough food and water to last the journey. How produce didn't rot and decay over the course of a year, I don't know. Miraculous. They didn't throttle and kill each other! Eight people went in and eight people came out. I'm being slightly facetious with this one, but it does seem as though everyone was still on speaking terms when they left the boat. Relationships were sustained despite extremely strenuous circumstances. Miraculous.

God is performing miracles in our midst too. As we shelter in place. I shared previously in a Gather the Good about all the beautiful things artists are doing on social media. The human default setting is panic and selfishness and anger. But we see people choosing beauty instead. And in that, there is peace and joy. That's a miracle. Needs are being met and will continue to be met. People are buying extras not to hoard but to donate to food pantries and hungry school kids. In grocery stores, people are giving older folks and weeping mothers out of their share so they can be nourished and safe too. That's miraculous. And we have knowledge and soap and Purell and indoor plumbing which is so much more than most humans have had been facing a pandemic and certainly more than Noah on his boat. I think anyone from another age would look at all these things we take for granted and declare it, "miraculous."

And we have the internet where we connect. Artists with their beauty. Pastors with their encouragement for their flocks. Writers with their words to try to describe and explain this unprecedented time. Friends with their love unlimited by walls and six feet of space. The internet is indeed miraculous despite what the darkness has done to it. We can still use it for good. And we should and we will.

One day, we will look over our shoulders and see more miracles that we do not have eyes to see right now. For now, shelter in place and keep the faith.

Gather the Good

1. Patrick Stewart, A Sonnet a Day Keeps the Doctor Away, Instagram
2. Sarah Clarkson, Psalms & Poems, Instagram
3. The East Pointers (and friends), #Annedemic, Facebook at 6pm EST
4. We Banjo 3, daily doses of all sorts of music, Instagram, Facebook, YouTube. 
5. Yo Yo Ma, Calming Songs, Instagram
6. Josh Gad, Picture books for Kids, Instagram daily at 7pm EST
7. Annie F. Downs, Picture books for kids, Instagram daily at 7pm EST
8. Andrew Llyod Webber, musical selections, Instagram 
9. Andrew Peterson, read aloud of his novel Wingfeather, Instagram daily at 8pm EST
10. Donation concerts, indie bands everywhere. Check their social media for details. 

Remember to Chalk the Walk, put a teddy bear in the window, and hang your Christmas lights!! 

Happiness on the Horizon

"Oh, happiness is just around the corner from you, even when it feels like there is nothing you can do when you're sitting in the dark there. Oh, happiness is just around the corner!"-- We Banjo 3, "Happiness" 

It's about ten-thirty on Monday March 16th as I write this, and in just a few days, my world has become very small. And I am not alone.

We're all feeling the smallness of not just our four walls, but our place in the world. None of us can stop the pandemic. None of us can stop the widespread fear. None of us can undo a ban or restriction. And that powerlessness can fuel the fear already thrumming through the world, the fear of getting sick, the fear of a loved one dying. It's a lot. We have to admit that it's a lot. Because if we don't admit it, we're not being fair with ourselves or each other.

But once we've admitted it. Once we've looked the fear square in the eye, washed our hands again, and hunkered down in our homes...then what?

I'm not here to give you a bucket list. Which, I actually think that name might not be a great one right now. You know, since it's a list of everything you wanna do before you kick the bucket.... But I digress. There's plenty of that out there if that's what you're looking for so I don't feel the need to add.

No, my addition to the world is hope. I want that to always be my addition to the universal discussion. And this time, I'm talking hope with the help of my boys in We Banjo 3.

No, they're not guests. I can only wish. And maybe hope David will get bored enough during this social distancing. Just kidding. Sorta. Dave, if you're listening, I'd love to chat kindness and banjos.

But I'm totally gonna talk about one of their songs. I can't tell you what it means to them or why they wrote it. Instead, I'll tell you what it means to me right now today in this pandemic.

Happiness. Sometimes we dismiss this word. Like it's too trite and not as meaningful as it's big sister Joy. I actually love that it's the word the boys chose for their song. Whether or not we sound very sophisticated saying it, happiness is something we all crave.

We have an inate desire for laughter, amusement, and entertainment. We long for connection and relationship. We actively seek out that which delights us. This is all part and parcel of happiness.

Sometimes happiness flows free and easy, like a healthy stream rambling through the forest. And other times, happiness is elusive, evasive, and evaporated, like a mirage in the desert.

Unless this is your first time here, you know I've struggled with depression my entire adult life. Not every day, or every season, mind you, but consistently. So when David sings about, "sitting in the dark", I get it. There are times when happy is gone and darkness has settled.

It feels like that now on a worldwide level. The darkness of disease and unease is spreading. The pandemic is not only covid-19, but disappointment, anxiety, panic, and worst of all, grief.

Thank the Lord for those holding onto the light and lifting it like a candle. We see them on Instagram and other social media places. And we have them in our own communities. Friends who bring you groceries or toilet paper. Friends who text and call regularly to see how everyone's doing. Family who FaceTime because visits are unwise but connection matters. We are holding the light even as we shelter in place.

And happiness is just around the corner.

The boys call this the Irish verse, "it rains and rains and rains and rains and rains and rains for days, suddenly one bright morning all the rain has gone away. The sun is on the horizon. Oh happiness is just around the corner." And you know what? They're right.

Oh, not about it being the Irish verse. Although, yes, it can be quite rainy there. They're right about happiness.

In times of grief, one day you discover your face is tight with a smile. Then your chest clenches with laughter instead of sorrow. Even if it only lasts a minute or so, happiness has started to take back ground from the dark.

In times of depression, one day you have a sudden spark of interest in something. And then just as suddenly, some energy to actually do the thing. And you reach out to make a connection. There it is--happiness.

In this time of uncertainty, that isn't unprecedented for all history but it certainly is for anyone living it out now, happiness is around the corner. It's in the beauty we choose to create, see, and share. It's in the connection we make in spite of "social distancing". It's in the way we've been made to slow down, to dig deep right where we are and who we're with. It's in the way we choose to believe that although it may get darker before it gets lighter, happiness is on the horizon.

So, while we're waiting and praying this out, pursue some happiness. And give what you can to those around you, both in financial and material ways, and also in beauty, grace, and kindness. And listen to some banjo tunes. Guaranteed to make you smile for at least three to five minutes.

And wash your hands.