The following is my latest column for the Global Sisters Report. Since the beginning of the COVID-19 outbreak and pandemic, we've seen an overwhelming demand for services at my ministry. In the midst of packing groceries and trying to stay safe, I've discovered that the extent to which I believe God would provide was more limited than I'd imagined. In the midst of a dark time for our country and our world, may this reflection shine light on the ways we're called to action, to trust, and most of all to love of God and neighbor without distinction. Blessings.
On the night of March 17 when we locked up the neighborhood
center where I minister, it was hard to tell what the next day would bring. We
knew 15,000 pounds of food were being delivered in the morning, but the
question of who would be there to unpack it and how we'd distribute it loomed
large. With public health warnings about COVID-19 and a suspension of all
programming except for our food pantry, we waited to see what volunteers would
join us to help.
"God will provide," the sister I live and work
with said as we drove home that night. In the morning, a skeleton crew arrived
for a highly modified distribution. With only nine of our usual 45 volunteers,
we managed to move our distribution outside and feed a record number of
neighbors in a day.
This, it turned out, would be the first of many pandemic
records. The outpouring of both support and need in our community has been
overwhelming these last 11 weeks. Demand for our pantry's services has only
grown as the pandemic continues. In comparison to this time last year, we're
serving more than three times the number of families each month. With thousands
of bags of food distributed, we've seen nearly 300 new families come to us for
food in the last three months alone.
If the pandemic has taught us anything it is that
flexibility is key, that hunger (and other basic needs) don't follow
stay-at-home orders, and that God does indeed provide.
"God will provide" is a sentiment I thought I
believed before this pandemic. Certainly, God provides for our needs; that,
after all, is the bedrock of faith. Yet as these weeks have dragged on, I've
discovered that the familiar phrase "God will provide" is less
familiar than I thought. What once seemed like a simple article of faith has,
in fact, evolved into an element of self-discovery and growth. In it I see my reservations
and my unbelief; I'm coming to see that God provides in ways far beyond my
imagining.
As I was standing in a warehouse the length of a football
field a few weeks after the initial shutdown, my nose was filled with the smell
of ripe fruit. Palettes of fruit unclaimed by importers towered over the burly
men who showed us around the terminal. "The next stop is the dumpster
outside," the foreman told us regretfully.
"Do you think you could use some?" he asked as we
nodded in awe, taken aback by the sight and thinking of the families in need
who were waiting on our return from this morning's errand.
"Whatever you
want is yours, sisters," he chimed in as he began to load boxes into our
cars.
Resistance is the edge of growth
Despite all evidence to the contrary, the phrase "God
will provide" raises caution within me. "No," I think to myself,
"that is a cop out. There must be something we can do." The
resistance within me, it seems, is in the belief that I can and should be able
to it on my own. This simple phrase shifts the onus; in some ways, I fear that
it lets the speaker off the hook.
My caution, I am finding, is rooted in a mix of motivations.
There is the myth and pull of the individual that runs strong within me and our
culture. Following the false thinking of "If I can't provide for
myself, why should anyone else?" this individualism trades faith and
trust for pragmatism and control. To a desire to control the situation and/or
remain self-reliant, hearing someone say "God will provide" is gut
wrenching.
Yet it is in the situations where nothing else can seemingly
be done — where our efforts only yield so much — that I find, more and more,
the phrase "God will provide" passes my lips. As I look at shelves
picked bare in our food pantry, the contents of which we've worked tirelessly
to stretch so as many neighbors as possible can eat, I know we've done all we
can.
Here the phrase is not a sign of giving up but instead is an
act of surrender. There is nothing more we can do but believe and know our work
is bolstered by God's grace. Then when my phone buzzes with calls about canned
goods packed and ready to be picked up at local parishes, I know that,
certainly, God provides.
Reality, it turns out, is more nuanced than a gut reaction.
"Act as if everything depended on you.
Trust as if everything depended on
God." St. Ignatius is often cited as saying. The inclination of the
individualist is to take the former part of the quote and forget the latter.
"I prefer to reverse it," writes author Jim Manney. " 'Pray as if everything depends on you,
work as if everything depends on God.' … [this] puts our work in the right
perspective: if it depends on God, we can let it go. We can work hard but leave
the outcome up to him. If God is in charge we can tolerate mixed results and
endure failure."
From this perspective, God provides not because we will it
or because we see the world through rose-colored glasses, but because faith
allows us to be free, to trust that all will be well and also to know our part
in the work of God. We are not the master craftsmen; we are workers in the
field.
I marvel at the graces that weasel their way into the
potential hopelessness of these days. After an undocumented and now unemployed
family came to us in haste unable to pay their bills, a regular volunteer, who
can't come to help because of health concerns, unbeknownst to the
situation-at-hand sent us her stimulus check with a simple note saying she
didn't have much but certainly had all she needed and could share this in her
physical absence.
By no fault or cause of our own
These days, I shake my head as the phrase "God will
provide" passes my lips. I recognize the mixture of gratitude and
astonishment beneath the words, both from lessons learned and for promises
kept.
I must admit the phrase still catches in my throat from time
to time. Who is this person speaking? I think to myself. Trust
takes time and faith blossoms bit by bit. And if I'm honest, I know that the
phrase "God provides" spoken in the aftermath of such cases comes
much more easily than "God will provide," the faith-filled
declaration of trust in what is yet to be.
Still, God provides, by no fault or cause of my own.
People's kindness and generosity abound as casseroles appear at our doorstep,
plants are nurtured in our community garden, homemade masks are delivered from
across the country, and donations and volunteers of all stripes and sorts
continue to arrive.
Walking past one of our classrooms on a recent weekday, I
noticed a tiny statue of the Blessed Mother facing out toward the impromptu
staging area for food distribution. We wouldn't distribute for another week,
but the forecast called for rain and so a sister had faced the statue outward
to ward off the bad weather. Continuing down the hall, I smiled to myself. In
the past, I would have smiled at the thought that that would make any
difference. This time, though, the smile on my face grew as I turned back toward the classroom. "God will provide." I repeated to myself as I took a closer look at the tiny statue.
"God will provide," I smiled to myself, as I picked up a large wooden statue of the Blessed Mother from across the room and put her next to her smaller counterpart.
"God will provide," I softly repeated in prayer, "but one can never be too safe."
