A people free from fear, yet full of compassion.
Three of the four in my immediate family have caught Covid 19 so far. I’m grateful to report that all three have had very mild symptoms. Watching my family members navigate it, however – quarantine guidelines, mask mandates, and such – all the while observing my own navigation of everything, has made me reflect more broadly on how I’ve seen Christians dealing with it all. Now, I claim no uniquely profound discernment here. Yet, as I’ve paid attention, while trying to reflect on the invitations of Jesus, I’ve generally seen Christians in the US take one of two postures. Interestingly, both bear a rich Christian foundation, yet also are found startlingly incomplete. One, full of faith, but lacking compassion. The other, full of compassion, yet lacking freedom.
Now, I could speculate on why this is; how there could be such conflicting yet equally compelling “clear Christian” postures. I could suggest politics, or, better yet, the echo chambers of social media. However, far smarter people than I are talking about these things. For whatever it’s worth, I recommend to you the good folks at the Trinity Forum, at the Rebuilders podcast from Mark Sayers and Red Church, and The Emotionally Healthy Leader Podcast from Pete Scazzero.
Leaving that more sophisticated conversation in their hands, here I hope, by simply calling us to basic tenants of our faith, to reveal the incompleteness of each of these postures, and to invite us to a more complete third way.
The first incomplete posture I’ve seen is what I’ll call the “all-out appeal to fear not.” Now, “fear not” is one of God’s most frequent declarations to His people throughout Scripture. “Do not be afraid” is the invitation of Christ himself (Luke 12), and indeed He frees us from all fear. So, let me first be clear and wholeheartedly affirm, yes! We are indeed called to be a people free from fear; free from fear of man, disaster, and disease. See, the shadow I’ve seen sneak into this posture is not the idea of “fear not” itself, but in how it’s often used. In practice, “fear not” rhetoric when it lacks compassion can become a posture of flippancy. Untempered by humility the “fear not” ideal can become a justification to disregard risk or avoid inconvenient precaution, labelling it all “living in fear.” In this way the rich Christian “fear not” posture becomes half-baked when it’s poor in humility, compassion, or both. Lacking humility, it becomes slow to listen and quick to judge, disregarding the concerns of neighbor. It hastily arrives at a judgement of truth, despite the objections even of brothers and sisters. Second, lacking compassion, this “fear not” posture risks overlooking Christ’s call of sacrificial submission to others. This call was not given to us with the qualifier, “submit to others in love, when they are undeceived.” Quite to the contrary, The Apostle Paul speaks powerfully of his own practice of submitting to others’ for their sake, even in the face of plain disagreement about some of the very things he’s submitting to (1 Corinthians 9). And of course, Christ is our model in this, bearing patiently abuse, slander, injustice, and death, in love. Gospel-rooted freedom from fear does not require resistance towards compassionate precaution. It certainly does not look like avoidance of Christ’s invitation to go out of our way, even embracing a burden, even if we’re not convinced of its value, if it just might be an act of love to our neighbor.
The other oversimplified posture I witness is what I’ll call the “fearful caretaker.” The beauty, and rich rooting, of this posture is its enthusiastic love for neighbor. This posture honors well the Christian heart of self-sacrifice and love mentioned above. Someone in this posture might laudibly say “If I might sacrifice anything at all, even riddled with uncertainty, that would be an act of love, let me do it.” This is firm Christian footing. Yet, as with the “fear not” posture, I’ve seen this posture so often only half-baked. Frequently, this “love thy neighbor” rhetoric is accompanied by either the idol of control, or (as my label suggests) the infection of fear. For someone prone more to this posture, there are two chief risks. First, that their genuine desire to care for others might morph into the inflated notion that the fate of all they care for is in their hands, simply put; that we can control things. What anxiety this can produce over making the wrong decision! What frustration and anger this can produce when others don’t see things similarly. This of course is a compassion detached from knowing the Father’s care, for all His children. Second, and possibly more common, this “love thy neighbor” posture might indeed be masking great fear. Worry for self can easily masquerade as care for others amidst a worldwide pandemic. Yet, Christians are in fact called to fear not, and our compassion for others falls short of Christlike love when it’s tempered by fear. If you’ve found your patience thinning with the very people you say you’re loving, or if you feel tremendous anxiety when trying to discern the appropriate precautions, one of these traps, fear or control, may be at work.
Now, there is good news. Even as I look around the church and see these things, I also see Christians living a more beautifully complete posture. Now and throughout history, there are beautiful examples of fearlessness, humility, and compassion hand in hand. I’ll share two quick examples; one from our current pandemic, one from our history.
When the pandemic first broke out I had the unique experience of living in the breakout’s domestic hub, New York City. There, I powerfully witnessed Christians simultaneously “fear not” and, in compassion, gladly submit to exhaustive precaution. I saw brothers and sisters embrace all manner of inconvenient precaution (plus the loneliness that came with) for the sake of their vulnerable neighbors. Yet, far from living in fear, I saw them putting their own exposure at greater risk by working to open and operate a food pantry for those countless neighbors to whom social distancing meant unemployment. Looking further back, Christians have faced pandemics before. The brightest of our forerunners demonstrated a Christian love radically free from fear; staying in cities as most people fled ravishing plagues, demonstrating reckless compassion by caring for the sick and infected. These our brothers and sisters demonstrated, both, a freedom from fear, and a great willingness to shoulder burden for their neighbor. Here’s just one particular example. When the Bubonic plague returned to Germany in 1527, Martin Luther found himself right trying to discern what a Christian was to do. Much like ours, his was a pandemic where precautions were known to be imperfect, yet were strongly recommended, and the economic and financial fallout of it all was immense. Trying to decide how a Christian was to respond, Martin Luther wrote this to a friend.
“I shall ask God mercifully to protect us. Then I shall fumigate, help purify the air, administer medicine and take it. I shall avoid places and persons where my presence is not needed in order not to become contaminated and thus perchance inflict and pollute others and so cause their death as a result of my negligence. If God should wish to take me, he will surely find me and I have done what he has expected of me and so I am not responsible for either my own death or the death of others. If my neighbor needs me however I shall not avoid place or person but will go freely as stated above. See this is such a God-fearing faith because it is neither brash nor foolhardy and does not tempt God.”
We strikingly see in this letter both an eager embrace of significant inconvenience, even for the sake of ambiguous caution, and a dramatic willingness to risk his own wellbeing for another.
So, for this and future pandemics, let us do likewise. In the face of fear-riddled media, let us know the security of God’s hand. In the face of uncomfortable restrictions, mixed messages, and unclear information, let us not grow reluctant to embrace whatever sacrifice just might love our neighbor. Let me get a little more concrete. Let us face the havoc of this virus, the alarm of the press, and the fear of many around us, yes with compassionate sobriety, but also unfettered hope. Let us deep down be truly free from ultimate fear of both this virus, and its impacts; economically, politically, etc. For love always hopes. Let us be free from political pundits' attempts to stir in us anger, contempt, or disregard. Love is patient, not easily angered. Yet in this, our freedom from fear, let us love recklessly and humbly. Let us be quick to listen, slow to judge (James 1). Let us willingly embrace discomforts, those of masks and frustrating restrictions, if there’s even some chance they may protect our neighbors. Let us do more than that too. Recognizing the further loss that these restrictions will cause, let us care for our neighbors hit hardest. Let us open food pantries. Let us write grants for artists and hospitality workers. Let’s help our neighbors pay rent.
In all these things, I hope we’ll remember the profound reality of the new family, the new kingdom, we are part of. Let us not forget that God is raising up a new family, transcending nation and politic; a family to continue His promise to be a blessing to all nations. Let us seek greater resonance and familiarity with this family than with our political or national families. In moments like these when the deceiver is doing all he can to pull us apart, may the church re-learn what it looks like to listen and lean into each other. In this our modern pandemic, I do think his weapon of choice has been politics. I’m convinced, if we grow quicker to examine our pandemic posture more closely with our brothers and sisters in the Church (down the street, “across the aisle,” and around the world), instead of our newscaster or radio host of choice, we will be far quicker to be both free from fear, and full of compassion.
For “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”
1 Corinthians 13:4-7