More Than Conquerors - March 19
Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 95* & 102; PM Psalm 107:1-32; Jer. 23:1-8; Rom. 8:28-39; John 6:52-59
Today’s Reflection
This week, many have reflected on the fact that we are now one year into this continuing time of global pandemic. As we read Paul’s words of encouragement to the Romans today (Romans 8:28-39), we can look back on all the changes and challenges of this past year and feel encouraged that, through it all, we can trust that “all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.”
Those words, while encouraging, can also be a bit disconcerting in that, when we are going through a challenging time, we may struggle to see how it is working for our good or for the good of those we love. Paul isn’t saying that we won’t go through hard things—in fact, he acknowledges several very hard things that followers of Christ, across time and place, experience: “hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword.” His point is that, when we do face struggles of many kinds, “It is Christ Jesus, who died, yes, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us” (8:34). When we experience hard things, we can find comfort and strength in knowing that Christ, sitting at the right hand of God, intercedes for us.
One year ago today, March 19, 2020, is a day full of vivid memories of hard things in the life of my family. My daughters’ spring break was the week before, but since I could not take off from work that week, we had sent them off on a plane to Florida, where they would spend the week with my parents. I planned to join them at the end of their time there, and then as the reality of the pandemic set in, the schools extended their break for another week. While flying on a plane was beginning to be seen as a risky endeavor, I decided to fly on to Florida anyway on Monday, March 16, with the plan that we would all return home to Texas at the end of the week.
While it was pleasant to be back in sunny Florida, seeing my parents and revisiting favorite places with my daughters, my hopes for reuniting with friends over lunch or dinner were quickly canceled. We could still enjoy outdoor places, but even a dash into Publix for a few items to take back to my parents’ home was stressful, as people were crowding into stores to stock up as if a hurricane were on the way. Then, the day after arriving in Florida, I learned that I may have been exposed to COVID the day before my trip, and that the person would learn whether or not their illness was COVID sometime later in the week. I decided not to tell my daughters or parents quite yet, as there was nothing I could do to change the fact that I may have already exposed them to it. By that Thursday afternoon (March 19), we learned that I had been exposed to COVID (on March 15) and we would need to quarantine for 14 days—a protocol that seems very familiar to us now, but was still very new to us then.
Meanwhile my husband, who had stayed back in Texas, was enjoying his now-extended spring break by taking motorcycle rides in the Texas countryside, so beautiful in the springtime with the bluebonnets and paintbrush in full bloom. But before I had the chance to give him tell him of our impending quarantine, I received a phone call from a number I didn’t recognize. The man on the phone said he had been riding with Tyler, and that he’d been taken to the nearest hospital. A little while later, a nurse called to say they would be transferring him to a Trauma I hospital a couple hours away. Immediately, I started changing flights to get us back to Texas that night. The surrealness of the situation was heightened as I began receiving messages from the bishops of Texas—not people with whom I’d normally be texting.
As we drove to the airport and awaited flights, my brain finally began connecting the dots between these two different situations—the COVID exposure and the motorcycle accident. When we changed planes in Houston or Dallas (it’s all a blur now), a physician called to update us and confirmed what I suspected—that we would not be allowed in the hospital due to the COVID exposure and our travel. Our friend Radha picked us up in Austin and drove us back to College Station in the dark and rain—only for us to have to spend the night in a hotel down the road, as we couldn’t reach the people with our spare keys and realized we didn’t have one with us. We had rushed home to Texas in the face of a life-or-death situation, only to find ourselves locked out of our home. What a day!
Looking back on that day, I’m sure I said some prayers, but I don’t remember any of them now. I do know that my children were afraid they wouldn’t get to see their dad again, and that I was focused on comforting them and getting us home safely—just putting one foot in front of the other to do what I needed to do to take care of everyone. And we did know that people like my friend Radha and my other seminary classmates, and even +Kai Ryan and +Andy Doyle, were praying for Tyler and for us—and this was comforting to us in those moments.
As Paul wrote, “Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? … No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (8:35, 37-39). I like what Michael Gorman, a scholar of Paul’s letters, observes about this language of being more than conquerors: “Paul’s attitude was that those in Christ ‘hyper-conquer’ (Gk. hypernikao) in the midst of suffering because they know God’s love and possess a sure hope as they suffer. Therefore, nothing in all creation… can separate believers from God’s love and purpose in Christ for his children” (Gorman, Apostle of the Crucified Lord, 378). Nothing, not even a global pandemic or a motorcycle accident—or whatever seems to us at the time like the worst possible circumstances—can separate us from the love of Christ. That is a truth we can always hold onto and take comfort in.
—Becky+
Questions for Self-Reflection
Recall a time when you felt overwhelmed by what life was throwing at you. How did you keep going and conquer it? Who offered you support and love? Looking back, can you see the evidence of God’s presence with you more clearly now?
Daily Challenge
To reflect further on how Romans 8 can help us think through the spiritual implications of the pandemic, read this interview with New Testament scholar, N.T. Wright.