In him you too are being built together to become a dwelling where God lives by his Spirit (Ephesians 2:22).

Ephesians 2:19-22 describes an active construction zone: building materials (people!) are gathered, cornerstone (Jesus!) installed, foundation laid, an entirely new kind of “building” is rising—a building that actually is not a physical structure but a new kind of temple built from people instead of wood and stone, iron and glass.

This building project—God’s building project—flows naturally and necessarily from the cross of Jesus.  The cross not only releases the forgiveness of sins, it also creates a new people.  Not a new “nation” or a new race or ethnicity, but a new humanity (2:15), the new and true way of being human and being human together in the one people, the one family, the one body of King Jesus.

God created us in his image: since the one God is an eternal community of love among Father, Son and Spirit, we are inherently relational creatures, created by love, for love, to love.

But how do we love one another, how do we get “built together” in the (hopefully short) “age of corona?”  How can “social distancing” and “built together” come together? The cross is our way.

That God would reconcile the world to himself through the crucifixion of his Son was surprising, astonishing, unbelievable, never expected, or even considered (except in the counsels of God).  The cross reminds us not to be surprised, and that even in the face of the worst things, God is bringing new and good things.  

The way of the cross is marked by suffering.  Suffering is our response to the evil and pain of the world.  Suffering is not the goal, and it is not good in and of itself—but God can bring good in and through suffering.  Suffering strips us of our illusions of control, our delusions of grandeur, and opens us to the reality of our neediness, interdependence, and total dependence upon God.

The way of the cross is also marked by lament.  Our sorrow, sadness and mourning, our expressions of loss, confusion, anger or whatever else we experience in these days are welcome in the presence of God.  It is fine—it is necessary and appropriate—to sometimes confess “Jesus is Lord!” even as we weep.

The way of the cross is the way of suffering love.  On the cross we meet a God who is willing to enter into our suffering, to suffer with us—in order that suffering will not be the last word.

Pandemics catch us off guard and unprepared, but God is neither.  We think we know how to do this temple-building work that Paul describes here—after all, “we’ve been at this for twenty centuries!”—but then a submicroscopic particle shows us that we’re not in charge and that we actually don’t know how to build what God is building.

We have not walked this way before; we are in uncharted territory.  But we have a great trail boss, one who is thoroughly familiar with our way and the terrain we must traverse.

Did you know that three-quarters of the poem-prayers in the Book of Psalms are laments?  Though none were written “about” COVID-19, see if they nonetheless help you as you pray your way in these times. Here are a few for starters: Psalm 3, 5, 6, 10, 13, 22.

Try your hand at composing a “psalm of lament.”  No, you don’t have to worry about “writing inspired Scripture,” or being a “poet” or anything, just experiment with writing out a prayer.  What are you noticing as you try this?

We are all very aware of all the things we can’t (and should not) do right now.  What kinds of “can-dos” do these “can’t-dos” open up? More time to read, or write – not for entertainment or distraction, but to feed your soul?  In addition to email/text/etc., why not create a mail an old-fashioned card? Ask God for some new ways to be “built together” even as we can’t be (physically) together.