Lockdown lessons from an extended lent
It was nearly a month into the coronavirus pandemic and two weeks into lockdown when my younger brother called a family audible: a “hurry-up offense” call to huddle our entire extended family by ZOOM. The next day, we did something we (and most other families in America up to this point) had never done. We had a family meeting, all forty of us, online. From my 83-year-old mother in her retirement community to our two-month-old granddaughter, there were four generations of Kemps from two countries, ten states, and thirteen cities — and one in his car, leaving his virus-saturated city to quarantine himself for a fourth week, before joining his wife and son 1200 miles away.
It was fun and beautiful to see each person's face and smile, to hear their voices as they gave their brief, but not so fun, updates. Everyone's working from home. Schools are shut down. Online classes are tedious with no friends around. Senior year musicals, proms and rugby season have been cancelled. A young firefighter, pregnant nurse and new urban hospital doctor are hoping they and their department don't catch and spread the virus.
Yet what stood out, across the generations, was not so much the sense of loss as it was the hearts of compassion, particularly in the younger generation. We heard concerns for friends who’ve been laid off, homeless people and shut-in elderly. The jobless and the recently income-less. The lonely, the isolated, the ill, and the incredibly taxed medical personnel treating them.
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These young people’s losses were not turning them inward, but outward. Their concern was not for self, but others, not for lifestyle, but for life, not for comforts but for relationships. When all is said and done and re-shuffled after this pandemic, I hope this is the legacy of this crisis season all over the world, and in America.
We recently observed the season of “Lent” in the traditional Church and the parallel is not lost that our current national situation is also one of loss and sacrifice. I didn’t grow up with a strong tradition of practicing Lent, but I have gradually come to appreciate the meaning and value of its symbolism and practices.
Lent is self-denial to dedicate yourself to God, and to God’s ways. It's fasting from things we normally enjoy to better appreciate the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, and the hope of resurrection and transformation, a change of direction. If we want a change of destination, we need a change of direction. And the deepest kind of change is a change of heart. Where there was selfishness, compassion. Where there was busyness, rest. Where there was 24-7 work activity, sabbath. Where there was distance, connection. Where there was apathy, love. Where there was division, unity and shared goals for the common good.
Technically, the traditional season of Lent ends on Easter Sunday. This year it seems we are being invited into an unintended lent, an extended lent, a forced sabbath. Before this COVID-19 crisis, we didn't know what social lockdown was. We didn't plan to give up March Madness, baseball, and concerts. It never occurred to us that we'd have to ration toilet paper, stay out of restaurants, stand six feet apart, or fear overloaded hospitals. We could never have imagined our society and economy slamming on the brakes and physically isolating so many of us.
My hope is that we will see this unimaginable societal shut down as God's invitation, not an inconvenience. As a refocus on true hope, not a time to fear. As a reminder of God's sovereignty, not His failure.
In this crisis, we are seeing much good…courageous hospital, medical, and first responder personnel. We're actually connecting more, but by phone and web meetings. We're caring and sharing in ways we've neglected for a while. People are protecting each other, looking out for the elderly, sharing their money with people who’ve lost a job or can't make money at cancelled events, closed coffee shops, or clothing stores.
May social lockdown and loss prompt us to be humble — not annoyed, aware — not ignorant, and kind — not competitive. May we repent — not repeat, reconcile — not isolate, and apologize — not accuse.
Now is the time to help — not criticize, listen — not complain, learn — not react, and serve — not demand. May we connect to loved ones — not just to Netflix, trust in God — not in the news, and worry about people — not money. This is an invitation to change our hearts and priorities — not just yearn for changed circumstances and economics.
We Americans have so much to be grateful for and much to re-learn. Every person does. But it doesn't start with pointing our fingers or tweeting our outrage. It starts with examining and confessing our own pride and selfishness, our prejudices and anger, our own corruption and the drift from God in our own hearts. The great news is that after Lent and Good Friday comes Easter. After repentance comes resurrection and new life. And that is our hope, whether we consider ourselves “religious” or not. This social and economic crisis is a season of uninvited, unintended and extended lent. It’s a forced sabbath. We are all invited to go in a better direction.
Jeff Kemp is a former 11-year NFL quarterback who now is a quarterback for strengthening families, teams, leaders and men. He is author of Facing the Blitz - Three Strategies for Turning Trials into Triumphs. He serves as Fatherhood Ambassador for the Fatherhood CoMission. Reach him at JeffKempTeam.com
