Chords Of Mercy In The Time Of Coronavirus

When I was asked to write something that might be helpful for PCA churches and members in the time of the coronavirus, my first thought was “Sure, it’s an honor to be asked.” My second thought — which came to me after the first thought had been acted upon — was “What in the world do I have to say?”

It’s not that there isn’t plenty to say. There are dozens of appropriate responses we can draw from the Bible. We can lament, we can repent, we can rejoice always, we can give thanks in all circumstances, we can look to Christ as a sympathetic high priest, we can look to the Holy Spirit for comfort, and we can look to our Heavenly Father for tender mercy. God has many medicines for the soul in times like this.

And most of us need all of them. I know I can go from thinking “this will be over soon” to “will this ever end?” I can feel incredibly grateful to be home with my wife and eight kids when some people are all alone. Then I can feel the burden of being overwhelmed with a house full of people and nowhere to go. Some days I enjoy the down time. Other days it feels like I have more to do than ever before. There are moments when I think this isn’t too bad and moments when this seems like a life-altering, world-changing chapter in history. And that’s to say nothing of the financial, emotional, and physical issues everyone is facing either personally, among their family and friends, or in their churches.

So what do I have to say about the coronavirus?

I suppose the most important thing I have to say comes in the weekly preaching I’m now doing to an empty sanctuary.

But beyond that it might help to know what songs I’m singing — sometimes with my phone, sometimes with others, and sometimes just in my thoughts. There are three songs in particular (yes, three, I’m a pastor after all) that have been playing on repeat in my head and heart.

“We Will Feast in the House of Zion”

I’ve loved this song ever since Sandra McCracken released it several years ago, but it has hit home with new poignancy in these weeks. Recently a friend from church sent me the YouTube video of the song. Immediately and without warning I found myself fighting back tears (which is not something as a Dutch man I have to do very often). The song is, of course, about the hope of heaven. But in that moment, singing along with Sandra and her talented friends, I was struck by the intense longing I felt — and so many of us feel — to worship in our church buildings with our church families. “Oh, how good it will be to feast again in our little Houses of Zion. We will sing with our hearts restored. He has done great things, we will say together. We will feast and weep no more.”

“On Jordan’s Stormy Banks I Stand”

Some people may be familiar with the older tune, while others will know the song as it’s been popularized by Indelible Grace. I’ve been singing this song since seminary. The rich lyrics by Samuel Stennett (1727-95) are about reaching “Canaan’s fair and happy land.” I’ve been thinking about this song because the pandemic has changed my opinion on one particular line. I always thought the third verse sounded funny: “No chilling wind or poisonous breath can reach that healthful shore.” The phrase “poisonous breath” made me think of morning mouth on steroids. But now I hear in the phrase the good news that when we cross the River Jordan no flu will follow us there. There will be no pandemics in heaven. Sickness and sorrow, pain and death, will be felt and feared no more.

“Great Is Thy Faithfulness”

One of the things I’ve realized while the country has been shut down is just how much I look forward to the next thing on the horizon. The next thing might be March Madness or the Masters, or a getaway with my wife, or my kids’ track meet, or a trip oversees, or simply the assurance that almost anything I want can be on my doorstep in two days. All of that is gone, at least for now. So what do I have to look forward to? What’s the next thing? I’ve had to rely on what is truly reliable: God’s promises. “Great Is Thy Faithfulness” reminds us (from Lamentations 3:23) that God’s mercies are new every morning. That’s what I have to look forward to. There may be no family reunion this year, no denominational assembly, and no Olympics, but when (by God’s grace) I get to the next day, the next week, or the next month, God’s mercies will meet me there.