My three goals for coping with the “long, hard winter” ahead
By Mark A.Taylor
One of my favorite memories from 2020 is one of the simplest. My wife and I were doing not much of anything one morning late this summer when we heard an unexpected knock at our front door. I walked from our bedroom (thankfully, I was wearing sweat pants and a T-shirt) to see my wife welcome two friends who had come to visit us. We’ve known these ladies for years, all of us members of the same church, but we hadn’t seen them for many months. (Add them to the long list of people we love but haven’t seen because we’ve been attending church only from a distance, via our computer.) These gals, just a little younger than us, are typically jovial and smiling.Their conversation is peppered with laughter, and they’re always asking you about yourself. As they took their places, masked and at a distance in different corners, it seemed as if fresh sunshine was flooding our living room.
They stayed only about 30 minutes and left us a package of six large, homemade cookies wrapped in cellophane and tied with a bow. As we enjoyed the sweets the next couple of days, each bite reminded us of the biggest treat of all, a taste of warm fellowship with friends whose very presence told us they love us.
Their very presence told us they love us.
I did allow myself one fleeting, negative thought. “Well, Honey,” I said after our friends were gone. “Does this mean we’ve been added to the church’s shut-ins list?”
But I doubt the visit was inspired by any list, only the goodness of Christian friends enjoying the chance to add a spark to long days—their own, as well as those endured by those they went to see.
As we move into a new year, as we anticipate the “long, hard, winter” politicians and pundits are promising, I want to remember our friends and their visit. Not only does the memory make me smile, but it challenges me to discover what I can do this quarter to lift my eyes off myself and toward others secluded or suffering through this pandemic.
Reach out
I’ll begin by making a list of friends and acquaintances and former colleagues and decide how to reach out to them in the coming weeks.
I have a friend, a retired minister with multiple international connections from his decades of church leadership, who decided a couple of years ago to do something like this. He emailed notes of affirmation to other church leaders he had known and observed through the years. He sent his notes across the country and around the world, telling each recipient what he admired about them and encouraging them to keep up the good work. They all responded with heartfelt appreciation. Most leaders get more criticism or second-guessing than simple thanks. I can’t help but believe these notes made a difference.
And so I’m thinking about friends in ministry who’d be helped by my encouragement. And then I remember older folks—some of them really are shut-ins—who would enjoy a friendly phone call. (The seniors minister at my church has at least twice phoned everyone on his list, dozens of senior citizens. I don’t need to be paid to call at least a few.)
Take in
But Christian service without godly grounding can degenerate into self-righteousness, and so I must renew my commitment to spending time with the Bible. I know many who commit to reading through the whole Bible every year. (Dean Collins is one of them.) I’ll confess I’m not in their ranks, but I admire them. (Good disciplines always yield positive results, even on those days when they’re done only out of duty.) Of course, God never told us to read the whole Bible in a year, and I don’t feel guilty when I don’t. But I do believe some system, some plan, is helpful. Without it, I’ll fall into the rut of going several days in a row without the Bible. Or, just as inadequate, I’ll use some scattershot approach that gives me only bits and bites of the spiritual nourishment and tempering God’s Word alone provides.
Elisabeth Elliott said, “We can’t really tell how crooked our thinking is until we line it up with the straight edge of Scripture.” Crooked thinking can develop quickly anytime, especially during long winter days of isolation. I need God’s guidance and guardrails , and the first of the year is the perfect time to commit to a new approach.
There are dozens of Bible-reading plans out there. I can check out my own bookshelf, look through options on the YouVersion app, or just read thoughtfully and carefully the Scripture references at the bottom of each new post from Dean Collins. The only bad choice is no choice, and so I must choose.
Choose joy
And then there’s one more good choice we can make. We can choose joy. You may not be happy with your financial situation, your worn-out furniture, your diagnosis or your in-laws or your home’s four walls trapping you inside every day this winter. That’s OK. This is no saccharine, sentimental “Don’t worry, be happy” advice. Joy is something different and deeper than happiness. This is the joy James says we should choose when we’re buffeted by trials and troubles. This is the joy Jesus saw beyond the suffering of his cross. This is the peace that passes understanding experienced by those who have learned to be grateful in every circumstance . They believe, even when they can’t see how, that God can make something good from any situation, even failure and loss. They watch, even when they don’t understand what’s happening or why, to see signs of what God is doing in the midst of their confusion.
As Dean mentioned Thursday this week, 2021 may be more difficult than 2020, at least for some of us. I needn’t dread that now or curse bad times when they come. Instead, I can seek ways to bless others. I can stay connected to God. And I can demonstrate my trust in God by choosing joy. Those three steps will brighten even the darkest winter, even the pandemic-plagued winter we expect in the months ahead of us.
Photos by René Ranisch and Ben White on Unsplash