I wasn't prepared for this.

To varying degrees, this has been my mantra as of late.

If I'm honest, this has been my mantra for the past six or more years. But even more so during the past 2-3 weeks.

We went from making Holy Week and Easter plans at the church I lead, to figuring out how to make my guitar sound decent over a microphone plugged into my iphone that I brought 10 days ago when the entire model of my job shifted.

Just a few days ago I used to meet up with people every day, and dream about crafting meaningful worship gatherings for people to connect with God and others while curating small groups and pastoral counseling environments to help people along the Journey.

I left much of this behind two weeks ago when I began working overtime trying to keep people connected to God and others during the first major pandemic in our lifetimes.

I wasn't prepared for this.

As I've been checking in with myself, and with other pastors over the past two weeks, the common theme I'm sensing in myself, and hearing from others, is that of exhaustion, overwhelm, helplessness, and a loss of control.

We are scared.
We don't know if our churches can survive financially.
We don't know how to care for people without being in a room together.
We're doing our absolute best, but it never feels like enough.
(this is the weight most pastors carry most of the time)

But as I've read and reflected on all of this in my own heart, I think the deeper stream that needs to be tended to is grief.

We have all lost something meaningful to us in a matter of days.

We all have the potential of losing people we love, people we worship alongside and create a community with, over the course of the coming days and weeks.

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