By Marion D. Aldridge
Like many others, I found myself more anxious during the Coronavirus Pandemic of 2020-21 than I had ever been. Period. Full stop. Ever!
Worry and fear are not my natural habitat. I’m in my eighth decade and statistics indicate, with regard to this disease, the elderly have been and are the most vulnerable, at-risk population.
Like many others, during the pandemic, I found myself more dependent on a direct relationship with God than one mediated by corporate worship, church attendance, group Bible study, and fellowship with other Christians. People were in isolation and on their own.
Like many others, I needed to step up my social media and technology skills for communication and relationships. I confess that, other than Facebook, I failed.
Like many others, I was inconvenienced during the novel virus crisis. My wife and I were unable to see one of our daughters for a year-and-a-half. As a young woman, she had her own reasons to self-quarantine. My wife and I had to give up date nights. Football season was canceled, or, at least, considerably modified. We tried out a new hobby or two, such as completing thousand-piece puzzles, but that new pastime failed.
But at no point during the pivotal 15 months did I feel it appropriate to pray the familiar words from the 22nd Psalm: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Like many others, I was a frustrated pastor. I could not visit sick church members in the hospital or their homes. My comfort zone as an experienced pastor disappeared. I was as clueless about how to function in this environment as a first-year seminarian. Like many others, I had friends get sick with the virus, and a few to die after contracting it. Like many others, I was often angry at the inept political response to a grave national and international crisis. I was also angry that the decision to wear a mask or get vaccinated had, for many, become dependent on which politician and television network one trusted. I hated that.
Like many others, I bought a new Bible and began reading it cover-to-cover.
The Bible, I am reminded, is a living word. Someone called it a shape-shifter. It reads differently depending on life circumstances. It reads differently when nations and individuals are in the middle of a war rather than “at ease in Zion.” It reads differently when you are a 30-year old with an irritating employer than when you are a 60-year old with an irritating employee. The Holy Scriptures seem to bend and flex to meet the circumstances of the person needing a word from God.
While systematically re-reading through the Psalms, my first, second and third thoughts were that Psalm 18 might be irrelevant to me.
According to the introductory rubric, David wrote this poem when he was an ambitious and successful young warrior before he was king. We read that he “sang to the Lord the words of this song when the Lord delivered him from the hands of all his enemies and from the hand of Saul.” First and Second Samuel depict the constant state of conflict in which the Israelites were engaged—with their external enemies (e.g., the Philistines) and then with each other: Saul vs. David. David vs. Absalom. Bloody international belligerence. Deadly family fights. Enemies everywhere.
As I read Psalm 18 (which can also be found in Second Samuel 22), I appreciated the theme that had spoken to me in the past—the blunt request that God protect us from our enemies. I have had enemies. I have been saved from my enemies.
Throughout my life, I have held responsible positions. I was often the point person for controversial decisions in my congregation and in my denomination. Not everybody liked me, or my opinions, or my style. Bible texts such as Psalm 140 described my inner turmoil:
Rescue me from evildoers…who devise evil plans in their hearts and stir up war every day… Keep me safe… protect me.
While nobody ever threatened to kill me, my employment was often at risk. I took unpopular stands on topics ranging from racism to national idolatry. I have been in the ministry for over 50 years and have been called to exercise the role not only of pastor, but also of prophet. You don’t have to read the Bible closely to know prophets were almost always in trouble. There is a story in First Kings where King Ahab of Israel complained, after 400 so-called prophets told him what he wanted to hear, but not the truth,
There is still one prophet through whom we can inquire of the Lord, but I hate him because he never prophesies anything good about me, but always bad. He is Micaiah (not to be confused with Micah).
That felt like the reputation I had among certain members of the congregations I pastored and within my denomination. I challenged their traditions and the beliefs of families and the bad habits of Southern culture. Of course, it is also certain that sometimes I was just a jerk. I will not claim I was always easy to like. Early in my ministry, someone told me there is a huge difference in being disliked for having an offensive personality and in being persecuted for righteousness’ sake. I have tried to temper my beliefs with kindness, compassion, and empathy.
One of my favorite quotations is from William Sloane Coffin who said: “Jesus told us to love our enemies, not to avoid having them.” As a lifelong people pleaser, as someone who liked to be liked, this was a difficult posture for me to find myself in for much of my life. I was elected senior class president in high school and student body vice-president in college, which must say something about being well-liked or admired, at least by some. Eventually, however, I realized following Jesus would put me outside of popular culture looking in.
But that was then and this is now, right? I’m semi-retired and not actively engaged in any power struggles at home, at work or at church. Long past the prime of life, I am blessed to have no family squabbles, no workplace hassles, and no hostilities with neighbors. What could this text about David and his enemies have to do with me?
Enemies come in all shapes and sizes.
“The cords of the grave coiled around me; the snares of death confronted me” (Psalm 18: 5). For the past year and a half, that has been truer than ever before in my life. While my wife and I took the quarantine seriously, and mostly stayed home, wearing masks when we needed to go out, not everyone in South Carolina was vigilant. The coronavirus was killing people, thousands each day. Worse, some people were in open rebellion against the various health mandates and laughed them off. One pastor friend of a more “let’s-just-trust-the-Holy-Spirit” Pentecostal persuasion than I, wrote on Facebook that God would protect him and, if it were his time to die, so be it. He assured his family and congregation he was prepared to die. Well, he died—from coronavirus, Covid 19.
If it’s my time to die, whatever that means, I believe I’m ready. I’ve lived a long good life and, when I die, my religion and my gut say I’ll be okay. But I sure didn’t want to die needlessly and carelessly from coronavirus, struggling for breath in an Intensive Care Unit, separated from my family, consuming hundreds of thousands of dollars of medical resources, endangering the lives of doctors, nurses, hospital aides and orderlies who did not think it was their time to die.
Do I really have no enemies? Does Psalm 18 no longer have relevance for me?
I think coronavirus qualifies as an adversary. David prays for the Lord to hear his voice, to part the heavens and come down and fight on his behalf. Why should I not lift up this prayer? After I have done everything I can do to protect myself, I am ultimately dependent on God. Verses 16-18 read:
He reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters. He rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes who were too strong for me…
The Lord was my support.
I do not understand why some good people die too soon, and some rascals live long and prosper; but I intend to keep praying, trusting God, and thanking God.
There were those who ignored the easy protections—hand washing, social distancing, mask wearing, and receiving life-saving vaccines. I think it’s somewhat humorous that Psalm 18:24 actually mentions hand washing! “The Lord has rewarded me according to my righteousness, according to the cleanness of my hands in his sight.”
I’m more than a bit uncomfortable, as a sinful human being, claiming righteousness; but would I prefer to be wrong? Science tells us that wearing a mask is a splendid idea. That’s why surgeons and other medical personnel do it. I’ll side with science instead of strange Internet conspiracy theories.
During the pandemic, I maintained my habit of walking about two-and-a-half miles daily. Believe it or not, that, too, is in Psalm 18. David, in verse 36, wrote, “You provide a broad path for my feet, so that my ankles do not give way.” Hiking was something I could do that was safe, healthy and required no human interaction.
As for David’s enemies, “They cried for help but there was no one to save them.” We can never get accurate statistics on who has been victimized by Coronavirus. The elderly couldn’t help getting old; but otherwise, I feel sure the science-less, mask-less and vaccine-less individuals were and are most at risk.
Psalm 90 suggests that “threescore years and ten” is a reasonable length for a life, and a marker I’ve achieved, for which I thank God. My two best friends died at age 60 and 63. The humbling reality for this chapter of my life is that I have survived this pandemic, so far. I know I will die one day—of something: a novel virus, a cancer, a car wreck, a heart attack. I’ll face that nemesis when I need to, but death is not the enemy. St. Paul exclaims, “O Death, where is thy sting? O Grave, where is thy victory?”
The psalmist, David, reminds me over and over that God is still God, through life’s up and downs. I believe that God is on the path of life with me, from start to finish, and I pray, along with David, for God’s constant protection.
— Marion Aldridge is a retired pastor and coordinator of the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship of South Carolina. He is a writer and lives in Columbia SC with his wife, Sally.
