Good Infection
Image by Thomas & Thomas
“Now the whole offer which Christianity makes is this: that we can, if we let God have His way, come to share in the life of Christ. If we do, we shall then be sharing a life by what I call ‘good infection.’”
The New Normal
As COVID-19 continues to wrap its tentacles around the globe, I have, in recent days felt myself getting restless. Prior to all of this, I had plenty of time outside and plenty of time around people, always looking for a quiet corner somewhere where I could sit, undisturbed with my nose in a book.
It’s strange how all of this has created a new “normal” for each of us.
Do I have enough groceries for the month? I used to go to the grocery store three or four times a week. It was a nice way to end the work day. Not now. I’ve had to learn to plan in bulk.
Did I download and print that doc for my son’s science class? They used to just send it home in his folder. How did this become my responsibility?
Did I check the latest travel directives from the state? I used to cross state lines without ever even thinking of such things. Now, there’s a chance that I’ll be stopped at the border.
It’s midnight. I want ice cream, but nope. The 24-hour convenience store closed at 10 PM, even though the “Open 24 Hours” sign is still illuminated.
I’d imagine that you could add ten or twenty more things to that list that have taken some getting used to.
Nothing is as it was, and even when this is all over, it will take a very long time to get back to the way it was, if that is even probable. So I have to look for good in the bad. I have to discipline myself to see things that I’d otherwise pass over.
Adventures
My children have also become restless. On sunnier days, that restlessness reaches its peak. They need to get outside, energy pent-up in their little bodies, magnified by the hibernation of all things.
On Monday, it was beautiful outside— just the right temperature, just the right amount of cloud cover, and my kids and I decided to take a bike ride on the trail down to the river. A lot of people were out in the neighborhood, all wearing masks and keeping their distance, but no one was unfriendly. Joggers, cyclists, and walkers were all getting what they could, while they could, on the trail.
As we rounded the lake, I saw a father at the water’s edge, down on his knees with his arms wrapped around his son while they both clutched a fishing pole. This Dad was teaching his kid how to cast, how to wait, and how to know when it’s time to yank on the line and bring up the fish.
Back when things were normal, I’d ride this trail all the time and never even look up. I would go riding just to get it done, because it’s what my doctor said was good for me. It wasn’t for recreation. It was a task. Exercise today? Check.
But in recent weeks, I find myself looking up more. Why? Because I have the time to. Because I have the space to. Because I don’t have to go riding. I get to go riding.
This was all flashing through my mind in that instant as I passed by the father and son. Were they there all the time? Maybe I’ve ridden by them hundreds of times, not even noticing them?
Perhaps. Perhaps not. Maybe this Dad was having a similar experience. When, did he ever go down to the lake, unencumbered by responsibilities to teach his kid how to fish in the middle of a work day?
The Tradeoff
In the quote above, Lewis writes about something called a “good infection”— a kind of life that we pick up along the way on our journey to becoming more spiritual people. And I can’t help but thinking that many of us are seeing this in ourselves with all of the shutdown.
Our minds are less busy- our schedules less dense- our responsibilities, truncated. In this space, we see things we’ve never bothered to notice before.
Is the tradeoff worth it? I guess that depends on who you ask. But if you’re like me, one who is oft consumed by the habit of “living to work” rather than “working to live” I can’t answer definitively. Why? Because for all of its carnage, I’ve still seen some goodness in the infection.
I see neighbors helping one another. I see people connecting with family and friends in ways that we never thought of as “gifts” before. The phones and social networks that we cursed for ripping us apart as a society are now keeping us connected and informed.
And there are many other things like that. They were always there, but unnoticed, simply because we wouldn’t slow the hell down.
All that to say, if we look for it, maybe we’ll see some specks of goodness in this infection. In the midst of isolation, death, and heartbreak, we must continue to develop as people. I’m glad it won’t be this way forever, but it is right now, and perhaps it’s helpful to use this as best we can. And when we get back to normal (whatever that looks like) will we take the lessons learned with us into that new-normal, or just drop back into the same old patterns?
I hope that I will keep noticing.
Selah.
Ryan Phipps is the Senior Minister at Church In Bethesda.
Raised in the church, becoming a pastor was the one thing Ryan vowed he would never do. After spending many years away from faith, he found that for all of its flaws, the church can still occupy a unique place of good in the world if it is willing to evolve with reason and empathy.
Ryan has a special place in his heart for those who have been damaged or disillusioned by the church, and longs to lead those within it toward a more just and generous expression of itself.