Peculiar Good In a Time of Pandemic
You open your feed to discover soaring numbers of people infected with the new coronavirus and a plummeting stock market. You wince and keep scrolling.
Weinstein has been sentenced (whew), but now the gruesome details are out. A work email pops up with a facepalming subject line. A firetruck siren whirs in the distance.
It’s not even 9:00 a.m.
In 2018, almost 70% of Americans reported feeling “news fatigue.” Exposed to an unprecedented flow of global news, often tragic and always available, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed. How should we respond to crisis?
GETTING BEHIND THE CRISIS
A crisis is a time of intense difficulty or danger that often requires thoughtful but prompt decision-making. As the coronavirus spreads, officials gather information, assess the situation quickly, and make decisions about healthcare, social gatherings, and public events.
In my city, Austin, Texas, Mayor Adler canceled the international South by Southwest music, tech, and film festival. This ten-day festival has the greatest economic impact of any event in our city. It generated $335.9 million in 2019. Crisis begets crisis.
It’s striking how often we look out for number one when a crisis hits. If the economy takes a nosedive, we scramble to make financial adjustments to feel secure. We hear the word “pandemic” and ransack the grocery store. Cunning capitalists stockpile hand sanitizer to price-gouge consumers. But disciples of Jesus should have a peculiar goodness in times like these.
Of all people, we should see through the crises to an even greater crisis—a crisis of the good. Lust lurks behind the #MeToo scandals. Greed drives a financial crisis. Self-preserving fear compels the pandemic shopping spree. Lust, greed, fear—the seeds of every crisis—exist not just in the world, but inside of us.
What would happen if we were as attentive to our seeds of destruction as we are to the headlines? We’d repent of sin more quickly, and bear fruit in keeping with that repentance. We would respond to crisis with good.
VISION OF THE GOOD
Jesus lays out his fruitful moral vision in the Sermon on the Mount. His introduction contains a series of punchy beatitudes that flatten and lift the reader all at once (Matt. 5:3–12):
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
Poor in spirit, meek, pure in heart—who can live up to that? And that’s just three of the beatitudes. Like prongs on a pitchfork, each beatitude goads us to godliness, but they also dangle a carrot.
Every beatitude is paired with a heavenly promise: the kingdom of heaven, inheriting the world, seeing God. And the juicy carrot isn’t a tease. We can bite down now, and with the promises of God between our teeth, bring heaven down to earth.
POOR IN SPIRIT, RICH IN GRACE
What does it mean to be poor in spirit? The poor in spirit may be poor because of impoverished circumstances or radical generosity. Either way, they are humble not because they are bowed down by circumstance, but before the face of God. When the poor in spirit look up at the outstretched greatness of God, they can’t help but humbly cast themselves on the mercy of Christ.
When we compare ourselves to the GOAT of any sport, we’ve no room to brag. But when we’re caught comparing ourselves with one another, pride easily creeps in. The poor in spirit are humble and generous because they’re citizens of the kingdom riding the coattails of Christ. Lavished with grace, the poor in spirit look for opportunities to lavish others.
One of my church’s small groups serves a community meal each month at an affordable housing complex. Most of the residents are elderly. Some are immune compromised. This week one of our church members called me to talk through how we could provide a meal that would minimize contact with their food. She developed a plan to deliver individual meals to this at-risk community. Why? Because she is a citizen of the kingdom. The proof? She’s living poor in spirit: generously and humbly.
A few nights ago, I saw a message in our neighborhood text group: “I’m legit out of toilet paper.” I texted back, “I’d be happy to bring you some.” When my wife woke up and saw the text, she said she wouldn’t have thought of sharing the TP. In fact, she responded by thinking, “But what if we run out?” Confessing her stinginess, she shared that she wants to act more like she’s in the kingdom of heaven.
Living in the plenty of the kingdom, we don’t have to storm the grocery store, or if we do, we can give to others from our stash. Jesus’ people are marked by generosity and humility. Good begets good.
PECULIAR GOOD IN A PANDEMIC
People of the kingdom see opportunity for good in the midst of crisis. In response to the cancellation of South by Southwest, Austin startups have launched a number of good will companies to raise funds for starving artists and struggling small businesses such as I Lost My Gig, Stand for Austin, and Banding Together.
How has your community been hit? What could you do to support them? Can you raise funds? Code a website? Organize meals? Which at-risk communities can you serve? You don’t have to be an entrepreneur, but we can all act like we’re in the kingdom.
When the pandemic is over, what will be in our hearts? Will we have become poorer in spirit or richer in stinginess?
Our Savior left the security of glory to bring us the hope of the gospel. Surely crisis is an opportunity for us to do the same—to be a peculiar kind of people who bring the hope of heaven down to earth.
Jonathan K. Dodson (MDiv, ThM) is the founding pastor of City Life Church in Austin, Texas. He is the author of Our Good Crisis, Here in Spirit, Gospel-Centered Discipleship, and The Unbelievable Gospel. He enjoys listening to M. Ward, smoking his pipe, watching sci-fi, and going for walks. You can find more at jonathandodson.org.