A Second Wave…
Written by Ps Dev Menon
Last Tuesday, I was working through the details of a wedding ceremony with a young couple already stressed about the prevailing Covid-19 restrictions. Just then, the latest announcement hit the press: Singapore will regress to Phase 2.
As we stared at our buzzing phones, a wave of dread came over our faces. Me, being the pastor, felt that I should do my utmost to keep their spirits up: “don’t worry, we can work everything out… it will all be good in the end… let’s take things one at a time”.
Once the couple left, I walked back into my office, closed the door… and then it hit – that dreaded feeling of anger and anxiety, sadness and panic – a condensed version of the multitude of emotions I had the first-time round. It was a second wave – of grief. I went home, I climbed into bed and stared at the ceiling for hours, playing shows in the background to fill the silence… I barely slept, and the next day I could not get out of bed till lunchtime… what was the point?
Reading articles on social media (inc. Christian ones) – most conveyed the same tone I had just used. It felt more like bravado than comfort. Words of hope yes; but hope that bypassed my own sense of loss. Cheap words at a funeral, I thought.
I remember from the first wave… what helped were sermons on lament. Psalms that taught us how to grieve, how to weep, how to express complaint without hardening into bitterness, how to feel the depths of disillusionment without sinking into despair. How to cry out to God, and cry with one another – as we suffer in the time of ‘not yet’. It is time to go back to those psalms…
So to my brother, to my sister… To the silenced song singer, to the anxious children’s worker, to the exhausted covid-taskforcer, to the frenzied PA teamer, to the frustrated churchgoer, to the depressed church pastor, to the despondent business owner, to the forlorn wedding organizer, , to the jaded AG leader, to the disappointed holiday-planner, to the isolated healthcare worker… grieve with me… and if God gives the opportunity, let me grieve with you.
“How Long O Lord?
