With the more recent news of racial unrest, our attentions seem to have shifted away from COVID-19, which is still with us. A Navigator friend of mine posted this poem, written by Sarah Bourns, a disciple-maker and seminary student in New York. She says about herself and her role at a church plant, Hope Midtown in Manhattan: “I disciple and develop leaders and provide pathways for our congregation to encounter God in his Word and his world.” <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Exposed<\/a><\/strong> We\u2019ve all been exposed. Corona is exposing us. Corona is exposing our addiction to comfort. Corona is peeling back our layers. Corona is exposing the gods we worship: Corona is calling everything into question: Corona is exposing me. We\u2019ve all been exposed. So what now? What\u2019s left? What Corona reveals, God can heal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Come Lord Jesus. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting. (Psalm 139.23, 24, NIV)<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" With the more recent news of racial unrest, our attentions seem to have shifted away from COVID-19, which is still with us. A Navigator friend of mine posted this poem, written by Sarah Bourns, a disciple-maker and seminary student in New York. She says about herself and her role at a church plant, Hope Midtown … Continue reading Exposed<\/span>
by Sarah Bourns<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not necessarily to the virus
(though maybe\u2026who knows)
We\u2019ve all been exposed BY the virus.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Exposing our weak sides.
Exposing our dark sides.
Exposing what normally lies far beneath the surface of our souls,
hidden by the invisible masks we wear.
Now exposed by the paper masks we can\u2019t hide far enough behind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Our obsession with control.
Our compulsion to hoard.
Our protection of self.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Tearing down our walls.
Revealing our illusions.
Leveling our best-laid plans.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Our health
Our hurry
Our sense of security.
Our favorite lies
Our secret lusts
Our misplaced trust.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
What is the church without a building?
What is my worth without an income?
How do we plan without certainty?
How do we love despite risk?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My mindless numbing
My endless scrolling
My careless words
My fragile nerves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Our junk laid bare.
Our fears made known.
The band-aid torn.
The masquerade done.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Clean hands
Clear eyes
Tender hearts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Have mercy on us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n