The Cure (Originally titled, "Nana's Angst")
I now understand why the law could never save us. I was convinced before, but now I’ve got proof. Evidence in the form of yesterday’s text from my mom, a photo of her and my dad in my son’s Iowa backyard holding my grandbabies. What?!!! My text back. You’ve got to be kidding. What about stay-at-home and non-essential travel? Am I the only person left in this family still following rules?*
Okay. There’s Luke. He’s a rule-follower like his mother. A fact we both lamented in a probably-illegal FaceTime call yesterday. I was driving. Hands free. But I’d accidentally selected video call as I was backing out my driveway. I didn’t look; not once. Eyes glued to the highway until safety parked out at the lake.
The lake is legal. It’s our property where we’re building our house and construction is essential. Construction including occasional rendezvous with our son and his girlfriend and my husband’s brothers who come out to help with various projects. We feed them picnic lunches at a safe distance. Keeping the rules.
My husband is an actuary. His job is to crunch numbers and calculate the odds someone is going to die. An interesting perspective when it comes to COVID-19, and believe me, it tends to make him sound rather heartless. There are jokes about actuaries—I can’t think of one now—but there are plenty. Usually the punch line is something like 2 + 2 = whatever you want it to be. Which explains the conversations we’ve been having this week. Starting with why he thought it would be fine and dandy for us to travel to Des Moines this weekend, while I was quite certain it was against the rules.
I spent the better part of yesterday self-quarantined from my in-laws. (Who are included in the “vulnerable” population on those actuarial tables.) I woke up with red eyes. 99% sure it was spring allergies, but 1% remembering something I heard about the Coronavirus. My husband, who less than a month ago told his kids—I heard him say it— “we should all act as though we have the virus just in case,” is now accusing me of kowtowing to fear, which I’m NOT. I’m trying, for Pete’s sake, to follow the rules. (Whoever Pete is, and for your parents’ sake, too.)
Luke is using his quarantine to study for the LSAT. He thinks he might want to be a lawyer. Previously he wanted to be a pastor but those ugly debates about right theology stressed him out. So he figures debating the laws of the land will serve him better. We’ll see.
Which brings me back to my first observation. About the law not being able to save us. Goodness. No time better than the present to illustrate the problem with that. Maybe you’ve noticed. Honestly. For every order we find a loophole, and every rule has myriad interpretations, and as many have stated, “They’re not actually laws; they’re recommendations.” Yikes.
We need a better option.
Enter the Bible—the book people have used as their source of rules for generations—which, ironically tells the story I’m trying to tell here. Two-part story. Old and New. Part one—the law. Part two—the Savior.
The law, given to protect the people. Like a stay-at-home order. Temporary, and only so effective. (See Galatians 3)
The Savior, our cure. Once and for all, mission accomplished. (See Hebrews 10)
Last weekend was Easter. Churches all over the world went online to tell this story. Jesus, our Cure, went to the cross to give us back our lives. Jesus, our Savior, defeated sin and death with Resurrection. Do we actually believe this?
Earlier this week I heard rumor of the following conversation, between church people I know and love.
Q: If you could ask Jesus to do one thing for you what would you choose?
A: I think I might ask Jesus to remove sin.
PEOPLE!! We have the CURE!!!! The ONE THING you’d ask Him to do if you could ask Him to do anything! Goodness. This quarantine must be making me angsty. But for real. This is so important. The law couldn’t save us to save our lives because we couldn’t even agree on what the law means. So Jesus did for us, the ONE THING we needed all along. He became the CURE. Which means. Get this. We’re CURED. Whole and Holy. Free.
Imagine. You wake up tomorrow morning to no more coronavirus, anywhere, ever. Quarantine lifted. Everyone free. What we’ve got is like that. But BETTER.
I know. Sometimes this news seems too good to be true.
And I, for one, am about to make a run for the border—Iowa, where I’ve heard it said, the people are free (:
*P.S. In my parents’ defense… they actually drove to Des Moines with bikes and a picnic, and hoped to get a glimpse of their new great-grandson from a distance. Since Iowa is not under a stay-at-home order, they were welcomed in for a snuggle.