Taking Shelter

I grew up in the Midwest where tornado preparedness training was as much an annual spring ritual as the arrival of the first robin or the start of baseball season. When I was in elementary school, one full week out of every academic year was devoted to Tornado Awareness Education. At the beginning of that week, all K-4 students would assemble in the small gymnasium, sit cross-legged on the wooden floor, and view a 16mm film about what to do when a rotating funnel cloud bears down on your small town. Once properly motivated by terror, we would spend the remainder of the week learning about the differences between a tornado watch and a tornado warning, and between a tornado alarm and a fire alarm. There were worksheets.

And then, after all this preparation, the week would culminate in a tornado drill. The alarm would sound in short, sharp blasts, and we’d rise up from our little desks to file from the room to a designated shelter area, either in the school basement or in a windowless hallway. We would crouch down low and cover our heads with our arms to stave off any impending roof collapse. Afterwards, our bloodstreams flooded with residual adrenaline, we’d go outside for recess.

God will hide me in his shelter   in the day of trouble. Psalm 27: 5a

We are hunkered down these days in varying degrees based on varying decrees as novel coronavirus spreads across the land. It comes not so much like a quick-strike tornado but rather a monstrous, developing wave we never knew we needed to prepare for. The protections we require to guard ourselves and others from illness are found within the confines and comforts of our own homes, and in the cleansing properties of soap and water.

But as the day of trouble stretches into weeks and, likely, months, what else do we need to be sheltered from? I might pray that God shelter us from impatience so that we do not damage our significant relationships as we share close quarters. I might pray that God shelter us from boredom so that we remain willing to stick to our quarantine routines. I might pray that God shelter us from indifference so that we keep up our concern for vulnerable neighbors and not give up too soon on the practices that will keep them safe.

At the end of our elementary school tornado drills, the principal would signal the “all clear,” and anyone who was anxious would feel an immediate surge of relief. We look forward to the day when we experience that kind of collective relief for our community. As we exhale, we might recognize that God has protected us in ways we never knew we would need.

Sheltering,

Pastor Chris