2 minute read
by Jessica Brodie
Jessica Brodie is an award-winning journalist, author, blogger, editor, and devotional writer with thousands of articles to her name. She is the editor of the South Carolina United Methodist Advocate, the oldest newspaper in Methodism, which has won 116 journalism awards during her tenure.
She is actively seeking publication for her fiction. Her novel, The Memory Garden, won the 2018 Genesis Award for Contemporary Fiction from the American Christian Fiction Writers. Her follow-up novel Tangled Roots won a third place Foundation Award in Contemporary Romance at the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference in 2019.
Married, Brodie has four preteen children and stepchildren and lives outside Columbia, South Carolina.
The coronavirus has made life as we know it very different right now. Instead of a boredom driven, want-based, shop-till-you-drop, pleasure-focused existence—or one utterly consumed by the endless monotony of work and sheer busyness—most of us are now in a season of quiet contemplation and social isolation.
Confined to the home and forced to steer clear of crowded gatherings, stores, and face-to-face interaction, some people are finding themselves with far too much time on their hands and choose to fill it by binge-watching Netflix, obsessively cleaning the house, finally starting that YouTube channel, or spending hours on social media. Others are going more introspective, taking time to reflect on who they are, what life is truly about, what they wish for the future, and where God is calling them. It remains to be seen whether this is a short-term halt to “Society As We Know It.” In our community, schools and church gatherings are closed until the end of April, but who knows? This all might well extend into May, or beyond.
James 4 calls us to turn from the world and submit to God, trusting in the Lord—not ourselves—to provide both our path and our needs. As James warns prideful planners (as I am often inclined to be): “Pay attention, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will go to such-and-such a town. We will stay there a year, buying and selling, and making a profit.’ You don’t really know about tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for only a short while before it vanishes. Here’s what you ought to say: ‘If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that’” (James 4:13-15 CEB).
Who knows what tomorrow will bring, James is saying. I am promised not even today—just right now, this very moment.
And as a Christian, my life is not even my own but rather God’s. As the apostle Paul reminds me, I was bought with a price (1 Corinthians 6:19-20). Therefore, what right do I have to make plans so pridefully, as though I have a say over what God wishes me to do with this day?
God calls us to set our plans aside, see what the day will bring, and adapt accordingly. He calls us to wake up, talk with Him, offer ourselves over for His purposes, and then go and do as asked—whatever that looks like.
I’m not there yet. There’s still too much “Jessica” in my day, too many things I prioritize without even bothering to consult God.
But I’m learning—and thanks to the pandemic, quickly.
Lord willing.
