If there was a global earthquake, I would imagine the aftermath would feel much like the times we are in. We are socially and economically distressed. Individuals, families, and businesses upheaved by circumstances beyond control.

Being in quarantine has been hard. Beyond the social and economic impact is the simple fact that even though we’re at home, most of us have more to do. Schooling kids who see this as an extended vacation, feeling the pressure to do more from home than we did at the office fearing repercussions from our boss. Or we have become indifferent and lazy, bored out of our minds, staying up late escaping into Netflix. We sleep in, awakening to mindless searching and scrolling hoping to distract ourselves from fear of the unknown, trying not to feel so helpless and hopeless.

When a storm hits, we initially take cover. We hunker down and wait for the earth to stop shaking, the wind to rest, the rain to taper. As the fury of the storm dies down, our flurry of activity rises once more. Many of us are raring to get back to it. The kids need to get back to their routine (and out of our hair). We need to resume activities that support our lifestyle and connections that nurture our well-being.

Except this time, can we slowly stretch rather than rush to rise? As doors open and curtains are drawn back to survey the damage, I am hesitant to join the dash up the hill. Normal is just a setting on the dryer. An enemy inspired, man made invention meant to deceive us into thinking unity comes from being the same.

In Scripture God addresses storms often. Next week we will talk about blustery winds and tumultuous seas representing the difficulties of life that threaten to overtake us. For now though, let’s look at earthquakes. In Scripture an earthquake indicates God drawing near.

God’s presence shook Mt Sinai as he descended upon it before Moses ascended to receive the Commandments. God made the Earth shake before revealing himself to Elijah as a still small voice. When Jesus breathed his last up on that cross, there was an earthquake so powerful it tore the curtain in the temple completely in two. Three days later the Earth moved again as an angel rolled away a stone, revealing an empty tomb. Two of Jesus’ followers were imprisoned, praying, and praising when a great earthquake shook the prison to its foundations, and the chains of every prisoner fell off. When King Jesus returns to Jerusalem to take his rightful place, there will be a final earthquake, one greater than any having happened on the Earth.

As God draws near, the landscape changes. The law of Moses declared our distance from God and created order for a chaotic people. The still small voice draws us away from distraction to a quiet place to be with the one who knows us better than we know ourselves. The torn curtain provides direct access to the throne of grace. Jesus is not dead in a tomb, but risen, victoriously seated at God’s right hand. In the prison of our poor choices and unhealthy attachments, Jesus shakes our foundation and the chains binding us to our old way of life fall away. In that final earthquake nations will fall, rearranging the whole world’s order in preparation for its destruction and Jesus’ reign.

When our lives are shaken, happenings easily hijacks thoughts. Realizing we do not have to give in to panic or what-if scenarios gives us time to consider truth. God says he will never leave nor forsake his people. Even when the world shakes. In one of the greatest earthquakes to date, it looked like Jesus needed saving, but our salvation held him there. In the final earthquake he won’t renounce or abandon us, but escort us to our heavenly home.

What would it look like if you reached back into reality rather than passively slip into old patterns? Intentional is what is repeatedly whispering to my soul. Intention is the motivation for me to pursue purpose. Deliberately considering and choosing thoughts, behavior, and action based on what I know is true from God’s word.

I am leaving normal on the dryer and setting my thoughts higher. I am trusting the one following me up this hill, who steadies me when I stumble. I am relying on the one walking beside, lending me support or carrying me when the terrain is too treacherous. With courageous hope I am fixating on the one atop the mountain cheering me on; the same one with a view of where I have been and where I will be.