I’m a Christian. I’m thirty-one years old, and I’m scared.
I believe that I am going to heaven, but I’m scared of what an increase in death might be like in our community.
My heart breaks for the people around the world who have lost loved ones already, and I feel the fear they felt as their family members got sicker and sicker.
I believe that God can heal, but I’ve only ever known sickness in the context of calm hospital spaces, with kind doctors and social workers who pass you tissues and give you space and time to grieve.
I don’t know what it’s like to be sick and isolated, in crowded hospitals stretched to capacity.
I believe we are members of God’s family, a family that stretches across generations, and thousands of years.
But right now I worry about the family you’ve given me here. The brother who is overseas, will he make it home?
My parents who live alone in a new city, with no family to drop in a meal if they get sick and isolated, the sister who had pneumonia last year, the ones who live alone.
I believe that God provides, but I’m scared. I don’t know what trusting you looks like in times of scarcity.
I’ve spent my life giving thanks to you for the food on our table, but I didn’t know there wouldn’t always be more on the grocery store shelves.
I believe all we need is love, his perfect love, but I’m scared.
I’m scared about what my faith is when we can’t meet together in church, to hug and pray.
I believe that God protects, but I’m scared. I’m scared for all the health workers I know and love. Who already give so much and will stand in the front lines.
And for those who work in the grocery stores and pharmacies too, I’m scared there won’t be enough hand sanitiser and face masks to protect them and their families.
I’m a Christian, but I’m scared.
All day long, your words come to me.
You say,
‘Don’t worry about anything.’
And ‘Be Strong and courageous… for the Lord, your God is with you.’
You tell me nothing will separate me from your love. And that I should be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.
I know many others have seen darker days, but Lord, this is new for me.
I know my brothers and sisters overseas have faced outbreaks far deadlier, persecution far scarier and death far nearer.
I knew about famine, injustice and suffering.
I thought when I prayed for those facing it, I understood, but I was wrong.
Lord, this is new for me, and I have a lot to learn.
So here I am Lord, I’m a Christian, and I’m scared.
And I know this is when it matters most, when those around us need light in the darkness, hope in despair.
So Father, can I lay this fear down at your feet.
And would you show me how to make you my rock, my shield, my strength.
Hannah is a TEAR supporter, teacher, blogger and mum of three who lives in Tasmania with her family. She writes at http://www.ouryearoutdoors.com/
