Maybe like you, during the beginning of the Covid mayhem I went for weeks without seeing anyone outside my immediate family. But then the joke was over, the jig was up — and in a span of 48 hours, four different people stopped by the Lighthouse to either borrow books, return books, or purchase books.

One of those friends also dropped off a little bag of chocolates, at which point the sun broke through the clouds and angels started singing, almost.

I ate one of the chocolates at my desk that afternoon. Then, in the spirit of (cough) research, I tried another one to properly compare the varieties. And that one had almonds – and I thought, well, yes, I could use more protein right now.

So there went the neighborhood.

I’ve gone days, weeks, months, whole seasons without chocolate or any kind of sugar. But this wasn’t one of those seasons. Nope, this season was a weird one, when we all fasted from a bunch of things, but sugar probably wasn’t one of them.

We fasted from friends. From gatherings. From normal activities, from typical routines and appointments and meetings. From running to the grocery store whenever we felt like it for whatever we needed. And we didn’t really know where this was going, or when the fast would be over.

I called Grandma to check in on her, and she was good – watching for moose, watching the news, and watching her cat, mostly. Her church is small and doesn’t have online services, and she missed people.

“I haven’t seen your dad in ages,” she said. “He came by the other day to drop off fuel, but he didn’t come in. Just put the receipt in the door.” (Did I mention she misses people?)

“Grandma…he can’t visit with you,” I reminded her. “He can’t expose you to anything he might’ve been around.”

“Well, I know that,” she scoffed, “but I’d rather visit!” She’s super cute. She’s also totally related to my girls; I heard both Cham and Iree in her frustration.

She told me about quarantines when she was young. They were different, of course; you might say they were actually constitutional. They were specified to certain families and households, not a global lockdown that convinced, coerced, or manipulated everyone into house arrest. In the early ’40s when she was ten, Grandma’s family was quarantined because she had scarlatina.

“They put a big red sign on the door, telling people to stay away. I don’t think they do that anymore.”

Nope, they just tell us all to stay home, and nobody comes close enough to see a sign. But I thought of the red ribbon we tacked to our front door that year – maybe you hung one, too – for Passover and Easter. It, too, was a sign of sorts, representing the protection of the Lord from destruction.

And that is the season we are still in: a season of rest, protection, and healing. Of quiet waiting. Of trusting in the Lord’s covering and guidance, watching for His direction, and wondering what is coming next.

For the Israelites, what happened next was the Exodus. And here’s what happened:

When Pharaoh let the people go, God did not lead them by way of the land of the Philistines, although that was near. For God said, “Lest the people change their minds when they see war and return to Egypt.” 

– Exodus 13:17, ESV

God didn’t show them the easy way out. He knew better.

But He didn’t only do it because the Israelites would’ve returned to slavery. And He didn’t only do it because the Israelites would’ve cowered from the war ahead.

He did it because they were called to something much bigger than they imagined, and they needed to learn how to live up to it.

But God led the people around by the way of the wilderness toward the Red Sea. And the people of Israel went up out of the land of Egypt equipped for battle.

– Exodus 13:18, ESV

They needed to learn who (and Who) they were dealing with. They needed to learn that children of God are a force to be reckoned with, not slaves to the expectations of others – or, sometimes worse, their own expectations. Sometimes our expectations are far too low.

This solitude from gathering for those weeks (or for some, months) was like a fast, realigning us, walking us through a wilderness that forced us to seek Him for direction. We can’t do things the way we’ve always done. In many ways, that is bringing long-needed correction.

How will we work without our office and coworkers? How will we learn without the school and the systems? How will we find information when we know we can’t trust the media?

How will we be the church outside the building?

We can rest and surrender, or push fruit and strive – but only one equips us for battle.

We talk a lot about “being the church” and yes, we need to be the church. But we don’t have to spend so much time thinking about how to be the church if we just focus on being the Bride, with our eyes on Him instead of trying to recreate the way we’re used to doing things. “Being the church” tends to move our focus outward: creating (or re-creating) programs, meetings, events, and those are all good things. But they are not the cornerstone; they are extra stones. They aren’t foundational, they are auxiliary.

It reminds me of when I first started homeschooling our oldest. We called it “homeschooling” but we weren’t truly homeschooling at all, because all I had ever known was public school. And that’s what we did at home: we re-created public schooling, from home. It sucked. It was not true homeschooling.

We didn’t start truly homeschooling until I got comfortable enough to buck all the preconceived ideas I had about how school ought to look and just start enjoying learning with our kids. Because school wasn’t the point; education was. And I was missing the forest for the trees.

If we just tweak our routines and programs rather than surrender entirely to what He is prompting us toward, we might be doing the same thing. We cannot be equipped for battle if we’re clinging so tightly to old ways that we cannot catch onto the new thing God is telling us to do.

And it’s hard; it takes time to learn new ways, to rip out old work. But it takes way more time to keep pushing through on something that bears fruit at 10% when it should be bearing fruit at 100%.

It takes even more time when we realize that we should’ve spent that time and effort in an entirely different direction. The best time to obey is when God first tells us. The second best time to obey is right now.

God led the Israelites – just like He’s leading us – by a winding way so they would start walking in their identity instead of returning to slavery. It was for their protection that they didn’t know where they were going. “Lest the people change their minds” – He still protects us from knowing what we can’t handle. The unknowing is for our good, and we can rest in that as long as our eyes are on Him first.

People notice the church being the church all the time. But they will stop what they’re doing to watch the church who is being the Bride, because the Bride knows who she is – protected, obedient, and surrendered, but she’s also equipped for battle.