2020 in the Rearview Mirror…

I read an article today that said 2020 has not been the most stressful year in history.  I buy that.  The years of the Black Plague were worse.  Any year of the Civil War was no picnic.  Still, this year has had it’s moments. 

It’s hard to remember the year began with President Trump being acquitted of an impeachable offense by the Senate.  It looked like the election would be the big news of 2020.   

I flew to San Diego for a conference at the beginning of March.  The plane was packed; we’d never heard of “social distance.”  Corona was just starting to be a thing.  I haven’t been on a plane since. 

A week after I got back, orders went out to shut down stores, restaurants, and gatherings.  Churches stopped meeting in person.  One meme I saw captured it perfectly: “Just like that, all preachers became TV evangelists.”  I learned to preach to a camera instead of a congregation.   

When we first went to lockdown, I remember how people wanted to get outside and walk, just to see other people.  I did meetings by ZOOM.  At my house, thankfully, we never ran out of toilet paper, but there were a couple of times we were down to our last two rolls.  We cooked at home every night for a month – it had been a long time since we did that.         

I made lots of phone calls to check on members of our church – over 300.  Other staff members called through the membership and attendees.  We prepared a “doomsday budget” in case giving dropped by 50%.  I remember the panic and uncertainty of those days.   

About the same time COVID began, my sister was diagnosed with cancer.  It was serious.  I prayed every day for her healing.  She began treatments, which sometimes seemed worse than the cancer itself.   

Our church decided to go ahead and build a permanent home for our satellite campus.  I polled friends and experts whether it was wise to try to raise money in this environment.  Five said “yes.”  Five said “no.”  So much for clarity. 

At the same time this was happening, my son and daughter-in-law told me I was going to be a grandfather.  A few weeks later, we found out the baby was a boy.  I had trouble believing I was going to be a grandfather; after all, inside, I still feel like I’m twenty-one.  

Easter 2020 was the strangest Easter I’ve had as a pastor.  I preached three services to the camera.  My family did come for the last service.  I’m not sure which was worse – preaching to an empty room or preaching to my family who were checking their phones. 

We regathered for worship in June.  About half a normal crowd came back.  Some people were not afraid at all: “I’m not afraid, Pastor, give me a hug.”  They were not afraid of me, but I was afraid of them.  A knuckle bump became the new handshake. 

The George Floyd incident, coupled with Breanna Taylor and Ahmaud Arbery being killed, prompted the pastors and police of my community to come together and plan a march for Racial Justice.  Over a thousand people showed up and peacefully marched to declare our support for Racial Justice.  Someone later told me it was the most integrated protest march they had ever seen. 

I had knee surgery in June.  Dr. Ford did a great job repairing my torn meniscus but told me I had arthritis in the knee as well.  Arthritis?  I’m not old enough to have arthritis.  

In July, my brother, my best friend, told me he had cancer.  Two of my siblings with cancer was a blow.  My prayers took on a new fervor: “Lord, I beg you, heal them both.”  Prayer is most honest when it is raw. 

My grandson was born in October.  God reminded me what unconditional love looks like:  When Shep was placed in my arms, I loved him without hesitation, to the bottom of my heart.  Every minute I get to hold my grandson is a treasure. 

The generous people of the church I serve rose up and gave sacrificially so we could build a new building.  Jesus said, “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”  Their hearts are with God’s mission.  

There was a lot of tension about the election.  The Sunday after the election, I preached about “The Sky is not Falling.”  I tried to remind people no matter who won the election, God was still in control.  No one seemed really happy with the sermon.  When that happens, it means you preached poorly, or you ticked everybody off.  It’s hard to tell sometimes which is which. 

In November, it seemed like people I love started dying.  When you pastor one church for more than twenty-six years, you get the chance to love people deeply.  I’ve done funerals the last few months of this year of people I treasure.   

I was named “Large-Church Pastor of the Year” in South Carolina.  When they first called me, I thought it was a joke.  Then I wondered if “large” referred to the size of our church or the weight of the pastor. 

My sister died the first week of December.  I’m still trying to absorb that load of grief.  Just the other day, my grandson did something cute and I started to call Clemie Jo to tell her when I remembered she would not answer her phone anymore.  I miss her. 

I spent the holidays with my family and had the joy of having my grandson fall asleep in my arms.  I have a new idea of what heaven feels like. 

Through it all, God has walked with me.  I sensed his presence, his grace, and his love.  Jesus said, “Peace I leave with you.  My peace I give you.  I do not give to you as the world gives.  Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”  In all the ups and downs of the year, the peace of God has been offered to me.  And no matter what 2021 holds, the peace of God is still offered to me and to you.  His peace comforts your troubled heart and drives out your fears.  Let 2021 be the year of God’s peace reigning in your heart.

Finest Hour…

It was May 1940.  All was quiet on the battle line between Germany and France.  Standing toe to toe were the army divisions of Hitler’s Third Reich against the combined armies of Britain and France.  The French felt secure behind the Maginot Line, a line of defensive fortifications built after World War I.  They correctly anticipated another war with Germany would come.  They erred in thinking it would be a repeat of the battles of World War I – long sieges of trench warfare.

On May 10th, Hitler broke the stalemate and invaded The Netherlands and Belgium, neutral countries.  The French had not extended the Maginot Line up across those borders.  The German Army flanked the French and the British and drove toward Paris.  Neville Chamberlain, the British Prime Minister stepped down and a new prime minister, Winston Churchill took his place.

The British Expeditionary Force, some 338,000 men, were trapped against the sea near a town called Dunkirk.  While the French Army fought a rear-guard action, the British Army evacuated across the English Channel, carried by a makeshift fleet of naval vessels, commercial ships, and private boats.  But their tanks, artillery, guns, and thousands of other items that equip an army to fight lay in fields around Dunkirk.

Paris fell on June 14th.  By June 18th, the French began to negotiate terms of surrender with the Germans.  Britain now stood alone against the Nazis.

It appeared the situation was hopeless.  The British had an army, but no weapons.  Their air force was numerically inferior to the Luftwaffe.  Their greatest asset, their fleet, was ill-equipped to fight in the narrow waters of the Channel.  It seemed a matter of time before Hitler crossed the channel and invaded England.  Hitler believed, having driven the British Army from the European continent, it would never return.

On the same day France began to negotiate surrender, June 18th, Winston Churchill made a speech, first to Parliament, then on the BBC to the British people.  He did not paint a rosy picture.  He confessed the hour was dark, the times were challenging.  He acknowledged that he did not exactly know how victory would be achieved.  In spite of the uncertainty, he called the British people to stand courageously against the evil represented by Nazi Germany. 

He concluded one of the greatest speeches of our time with these stirring words:  “Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties and so bear ourselves that if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still say, “This was our Finest Hour.”

This year, 2020, has been filled with crisis.  First, COVID19.  Then the troubles of the economy.  Politics this year seems to bring out the worst in people, not their best.  People are stressed, emotions are running high.

I’m not sure why, but it seems many people I know have suffered a tragedy this year: a friend’s house burns; siblings with cancer; a niece dies tragically; a brain tumor is found.  These things always happen, but it seems this year they are heavier, occupying more space in our souls.

Our temptation is to retreat, to be self-occupied.  We crave a sense of safety.  We checkout so we will not feel our fears and anxieties. 

I find myself longing for a voice to call to us all, urging us to be courageous.  What if God did not mean 2020 to be a year of discouragement and defeat, but a year when we are courageous?  Could it be that we should brace ourselves to our duties, loving our neighbor as ourselves, loving our enemies, serving, and caring for the least of these?  Could it be that 2020 is to be a year we bear up, asking God for strength to carry on, asking God for wisdom to know what to do, asking God for a deep peace that calms our anxieties?

What if God was calling to each of us, saying, “I want you to make 2020 your finest hour.”  Would it change what you post on Social Media?  Would you seek to understand before you speak?  Would you be less concerned about your rights and more concerned with what is just and fair for all?

Maybe the voice I long for does not belong to Winston Churchill.  Maybe it belongs to God. Maybe it is his voice crying to our souls to live above defeat and discouragement.  Could it be God is challenging you to make this year your finest hour?

In a thousand years (if, as preachers say, the Lord tarries), what will our descendants say about 2020?  Will they say, “This was their finest hour.”