I don’t consider myself a ‘touchy-feely’ person. I once heard an experienced lady who works cross-culturally advise singles to pay for a weekly massage so as to satisfy the need for ‘physical touch’. I spun around when I heard her words, my brows furrowed, though perhaps that had more to do with the traumatic therapeutic massage I had endured not long before. I have since come to enjoy socialising over relaxation massages in places where it is affordable. But it wouldn’t have been my top tip for how singles can thrive.
That lady must be suffering more than most from a lack of touch now. The official advice these days, of course, is ‘social distancing’, and not to go out at all if you can avoid it. For those of us living on our own, that means no touch … not with another human being, anyhow.
Don’t feel bad for me. Not only am I not particularly touchy-feely, but I also have a fat black cat to pat. Her Feline Highness was curled by my feet as I studied a BSF (Bible Study Fellowship) lesson this week on my own rather than in class. The theme of ‘touch’ stood out to me from the tale of the conversion of Saul / Paul on the road to Damascus. And I hadn’t realised just how much waiting, isolated from his new community, the poor man had to endure just a few weeks later.
Saul / Paul
Saul stormed along the road to Damascus. A proud and passionate member of the Sanhedrin, Saul was determined to squash this sect which promoted the crucified Jesus as the Messiah. And then, as you know, he was suddenly brought to his knees by a blinding light.
No longer proud or powerful, and unable to see, Saul’s friends led him by the hand into the city of Damascus. There, he prayed and fasted for the next three days. Ananias, a devout follower of Jesus, was then specifically directed by God to go and place his hands on Saul in order that his sight would be restored, just as Saul had seen in a vision.
Lectio Divina is a lovely method of Bible meditation in which you look for what strikes you. As I read this particular passage from Acts 9, what jumped out at me was the contrast between Saul striding independently before his Damascus Road experience and the physical human contact between the humbled Saul and the people around him afterwards.
It takes humility to let others into our personal space. Perhaps I noticed that because of the absence of human touch in our lives these days.
Waiting … for how long?
Saul was most clearly called by the risen Jesus himself to a very exciting ministry. That is eminently clear. Although he tried to get started on fulfilling his call right away, it soon became apparent that he had to wait. And wait. And wait some more. Our BSF notes said that he likely waited about nine years before his ministry finally gathered momentum.
We all know a bit about waiting. Here in Melbourne, as in much of the world, in our socially distanced society, many of us can only wait. Those who have useful skills during this crisis work hard and we are … or certainly should be … very grateful to them. Now more than ever, I honour healthcare workers, providers of essential services and, often unappreciated, our politicians who have to make horribly difficult calls about strategies that affect the lives of millions.
The rest of us just wait. We wait for permission to touch again. We wait to resume life as best we can after such a crisis.
Psychologists tell us that it helps to know how long we have to wait. That’s why there are estimated travel time signs on the freeway and regularly updated reports of where we are in the queue when we are on hold on the phone. But, right now, we don’t know how long we have to wait. Some people don’t even know if they or people they love will even make it through this time. We can only wait. And wait some more.
Filling our days
Don’t worry about me. I have plenty to get on with while waiting. I am blessed in that about half of my regular activities are largely done online or at a desk anyhow, and they have quickly expanded to more than fill each day. Somehow I still run out of time each day to wash the windows.
Not so the lovely coaches at the ladies gym I used to frequent. (Actually, I still do online workouts distributed by the franchise. It benefits me and the business owner but not the coaches.) I called the proprieter of a fairly new cafe near my home, hoping that they did takeaway … but they don’t. A massage therapist friend a few streets away is still legally allowed to provide remedial massages as medical treatment, but is it worth the risk? A hairdresser friend who owns her own business has the same dilemma.
And that’s only my community. The fall out in our globalised world from both the virus and the economic repercussions is unfathomable.
Many of us try to do replicate something of our ‘normal lives’ in a socially distanced way, church included. Some of us are on a steep learning curve with technology. That includes a calm and collected British vicar, who gave many people a chuckle earlier in the week. He was speaking on the topic of waiting to hear from God while broadcasting the church service online. He was sitting a little too close to some candles. Suddenly his jumper (sweater) caught alight! He was unharmed, could see the funny side of it and has shared the moment with the world in a clip which went viral in the best sense of the word. If you’re interested, have a look at the video embedded in this article: https://www.itv.com/news/westcountry/2020-03-21/oh-dear-i-ve-just-caught-fire-plymouth-vicar-has-close-call-during-online-sermon/
Waiting submissively
I began this blog post by referring to how the significance of ‘touch’ in the story of Paul’s Damascus Road jumped out at me. Let me finish by sharing a couple of challenges that the BSF notes made which particularly resonated with me, bearing in mind that the notes were produced at least a year ago before any of this global COVID-19 chaos was ever even imagined. They just happened to be distributed here in Australia for study two weeks ago … what good timing.
“Who or what has been torn away from you through suffering, separation or death? Have you been propelled into an unexpected, unfamiliar territory in a relationship, career path, financial crisis or illness? Hurts and loss strengthen our desire to heal and thrive. “
(Bible Study Fellowship notes for lesson 6 of ‘Acts and the Letters of the Apostles’ page 1)
Most human interaction, visiting family members, swimming most days, exercise with friends, teaching and learning face-to-face, access to the library, enjoying the cafe culture, weekly Bible study and prayer with others … the list of what has been torn away from me is comparatively short compared to those of many others. Needless to say, the BSF study has been timely.
The BSF notes finished with several challenges, but it was the ‘waiting’ one that stood out to me.
“Joyful submission to waiting produces humility, trust and patience. …. Are you patiently and actively waiting….?”
(Bible Study Fellowship notes for lesson 6 of ‘Acts and the Letters of the Apostles’ page 4)
A favourite verse in context
The great apostle to us Gentiles, that same one who waited for years between his dramatic call to Christian ministry and actually getting underway, put it like this: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28 NIV). If you look up that passage, you’ll see that the broader context is about waiting … waiting patiently … waiting with hope even as all of creation groans in frustration and pain.
The cat rubs against my legs, her shiny black coat leaving hairs all over my exercise pants. It must be almost dinner time. I delay, enjoying the warmth of living flesh against my own.
And so we wait. We wait patiently. Okay, so perhaps only the human in this household waits patiently … today, at least.
Throughout it all, I am grateful for the non-physical ways my spirit is touched by those around me, even if our skin can’t come within 1.5 metres of anyone else for who knows how long. Like us all, I am getting on with life the best I can. And I wait.