Josh Wood TX

Our adoption story

joshwoodtx — Sat, 20 Nov 2021 16:20:31 +0000

Since many have asked, I thought I would give a little more background on our recent adoption story.

The following is the text of a speech our daughter, Faith, gave recently. You’ll find a short background of our adoption story in the second section of her speech; but I’m posting the whole speech A) for context; and, B) it gives me an excuse to brag about my daughter to the world…because we’re indescribably proud of her.

Travel by Faith Wood

Comfort zones are my happy place. I prefer the company of people I know. I enjoy staying at home. In the words of a meme I saw “Big groups of people are called ‘No Thanks’”. New environments where I don’t have full knowledge of my surroundings cause me stress. I have a tendency to want to stay in my comfort zone at all times. But even as secure and cozy as I am in my comfort zone, this is not where I’ve stayed, and because of that, my views of man have become broader, more wholesome, and charitable. In his book The Innocents Abroad, Mark Twain stated “Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.” Travel can change your life. Whether it’s across the world, across the city, or across the street. Travel is getting out of your comfort zone and experiencing new opportunities, cultures, and learning more about the world.

In 2015, my family and I flew across the world to rural Metkei, Kenya. Going as far from my comfort zone as one could possibly get, both figuratively and geographically, I was surrounded by not only strangers, but strangers who didn’t speak my language. What I knew of the new environment nearly made me break out in hives; spotty electricity, questionable food which ranged anywhere from beans and rice to termites and corn meal mush. I won’t even tell you about the bathroom situation.

While learning to cook beans over an open fire in a mud hut, I glanced out and saw a girl about my age walking down the street with a water jug on her head and a baby strapped on her back. Noticing how exhausted this girl looked, I decided to leave my place by the fire to talk to her. As I approached the girl, the sweat on her brow and fatigue on her face told me she must have been walking for a significant distance. I attempted to speak to her, but she spoke little to no English. Panting for breath, she hunched over attempting to move the baby into a more comfortable position. Being a baby lover and not knowing how else to help, I motioned my willingness to hold the baby for her. She gratefully handed the baby over and walked to the nearby well to fill her jar. As I stared at the baby in my arms, I knew something was off. Her hair was grey colored rather than a dark black. Her dark skin looked ashy, and the whites of her eyes appeared yellow. She seemed weak and unnaturally skinny. Based on her size, I guessed she was around four months old. I was worried and tracked down the church pastor to translate for me. Rather than directing my questions to the girl, he spoke to an older woman, the girls’ mother. Through much translation, the baby’s mother told me of her seven children, the youngest being the baby in my arms who happened to share my name, Faith. In an attempt to provide a better life for two of Faith’s siblings, the mother placed them in a children’s home where they receive food and lodging, unlike in their own home where their mother, who worked tirelessly as an abandoned single mother, remained unable to provide for her children. She explained that she and her kids walk about eight miles to the church every day for clean water at the well. Before a well with clean water was built at the church, they hiked about sixteen miles for muddy, dirty water from a stream. She continued, saying that Faith was not four months old as I had thought, but to my shock, a year old. She had no teeth in her tiny mouth and could not sit up, much less crawl. I feared that if something drastic didn’t happen she might not live another week. The pastor confirmed my fear stating softly, “She is starving to death.” The impact of that realization was one of the hardest feelings I have ever experienced. Here I am holding this sweet, innocent baby in my arms who could die any minute because she and her family are so poverty stricken. That night I prayed that God would help this baby and He told me to help her. It was then that I decided to sponsor her through a local organization (Christian Relief Fund – CRF), even if it meant sacrificing all of my spending money and selling everything I owned. This sponsorship provides food, payment for medical expenses, clothes, and allows her to receive an education.

This year makes six years since I began sponsoring Faith, and the changes in her are drastic. Her skin is a dark glowing brown—free from the ashy-ness seen in her infancy. Her mother no longer worries about her starving, and Faith continues to grow up healthy and happy. In 2018, I visited Kenya a second time and was in tears again, but this time not because of holding a dying baby. This time, standing in front of me was baby Faith who was no longer a baby, but a little girl, quietly singing to herself and clapping her hands. Yes, Faith is still skinny, small, and underweight, but she is alive and healthy. And, because God allowed me to travel outside of my comfort zone to Africa, I saw how far Faith has progressed. I jumped rope with her. I sang with her. I drew pictures with her. And I prayed with her. My views became more wholesome and charitable because God pushed me out of my comfort zone and told me to talk to one weary girl who needed help carrying a baby.

“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.”

After returning to my comfort zone from Kenya, I had the weirdest feeling after a while; I missed it. I missed the culture of Kenya and wanted a broader view of the world than my comfort zone provided. So, yet again, my family and I left our comfort zone. This time, however, we only needed to travel twenty minutes across the city. You see, my city of Amarillo is home to one of the largest refugee populations per capita—primarily composed of African and Burmese refugees. We decided to help. While helping a refugee family move into a new apartment, I once again found myself in a conversation with people who spoke no English, but this time I was more comfortable, and I realized how much it meant to them that I tried to talk to them despite the language barrier. Soon, my family started visiting the park across town every Thursday night, building relationships, and making new friends. Their culture is vastly different than mine. We saw one family every week, and the four girls became precious friends. We had sleepovers, painted nails at the park, and ate dinner sitting on their living room floor. This family later introduced us to a 7-week-old baby girl who needed someone to care for her. After a long series of events, baby Anaya ended up living with my family. 11 months later, Anaya has officially become part of our family. If my family and I stayed in our comfort zones instead of embracing a culture different from our own, I would never receive the blessing of having Anaya as my new baby sister.

Coming out of your comfort zone can be scary especially if it involves flying across the world, or even driving across the city. But you don’t have to go to these extremes to escape your comfort zone. You can walk across the street. At about five years old I remember praying for an older sister. I wanted an older sister and begged my parents incessantly. I remember my parents telling me that they can’t provide me with an older sister, because, you know, it’s biologically impossible to give birth to an older sibling. Being who I am, I ignored them and continued asking. Their response: ask Jesus. That is exactly what I did. At the same time, relationships were being built with the family across the street. About six months later, Mary, our across the street, fifteen-year-old neighbor moved in with us. With much brokenness in her life, she found herself in a dark place. The plan was for her to move in temporarily to get a fresh start, but she ended up living with us permanently. God answered my prayer. He gave me a big sister.

Travel can change your life. Whether it’s across the world, across the city, or across the street. Travel is getting out of your comfort zone and experiencing new opportunities, cultures, and learning more about the world. Because I came out of my comfort zone, I have an older sister who lived across the street. I have a little sister who lived across the city. And I have new family across the world. Get out of your comfort zone and travel, because who knows? Your life may be changed, and you may change a life yourself. Whether it is across the street…or across the city…or across the world: “Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.”

Struggle Bus the theatrical production streams today (2/12) through Sunday (2/14)

joshwoodtx — Fri, 12 Feb 2021 15:17:13 +0000

Struggle Bus: the production

It looks like the weather is going to be gut-punchingly cold this weekend. (The low for the weekend here in Amarillo is -6 degrees.) Great. That’s just what we all needed: more time stuck inside. Fortunately, I’ve got some good news for you! Struggle Bus made it’s big stage debut this past week, and you can stream it for a limited time tomorrow 2/12 – Sunday 2/14. Isn’t that great timing? The way I see it, the brilliant minds over at Harding University Theatre have solved at least two problems for you on this cold, stuck-inside weekend:

Problem 1: You: “I’d love to read your book, Josh; but, I wish there were a more exciting option. Perhaps something that required less of a time commitment? Or that had pictures? Or music?” Problem solved.

Problem 2: Are you married? This Friday, Saturday, or Sunday, you don’t have to spend hours in a state of “I don’t care. What do you want to watch?” limbo. Just head over to https://www.broadwayondemand.com/series/fOn5l7a8Q2yc-struggle-bus–harding-university-theatre and enjoy. It’s $14 for a production designed for your whole family. Problem solved.

Favor #1

Yep, I’m asking you to do me a favor. Please support Harding University Theatre by streaming the production based on my book. Yes, I know you have to create a broadwayondemand account. Yes, I know it will cost about as much as my book. But, it’s way more fun than reading my book. Also, it took a ton of student and faculty time, creativity, and energy to make this thing happen.

When you do stream it, I’d love to hear what you think. Simply reply to this email or connect with me on social media.

Favor #2

Am I out of favors yet? If not, here’s one more: take a moment to share the streaming link on your social media feed. That would be just wonderful of you. Here it is again: https://www.broadwayondemand.com/series/fOn5l7a8Q2yc-struggle-bus–harding-university-theatre

Thanks again for following along! Have a wonderful, Struggle Bus-filled weekend!

Step-by-step Streaming Instructions

For the less technically inclined, here are more specific streaming instructions:

1. Go here: https://www.broadwayondemand.com/series/fOn5l7a8Q2yc-struggle-bus–harding-university-theatre.
2. Click the button that says “Click here to pre-order now” (a “play” button may pop up. This is ok. Click the button.)
3. Create an account if you don’t already have one (Click the link that says “Don’t have an account, click here to sign up.”)
4. Submit your payment information for the one-time charge of $13.95.
5. Give yourself a high five for supporting Harding University Theatre. You earned it.
6. After submitting payment, Struggle Bus will be linked to your account.
7. You can log back in to https://www.broadwayondemand.com/series/fOn5l7a8Q2yc-struggle-bus–harding-university-theatre any time from 2/12 to 2/14. You should be able to stream it as often as you want during the three day period.
8. If you don’t see the Struggle Bus Storytelling Event, click on the three bars on the top left of the screen, then click on your email address/profile icon, then click on the “purchases” button. It should show up there.
9. The production pairs well with chicken nuggets, Dr. Pepper, and chocolate. Order copious amounts of each for an optimal viewing experience. Also, queso.
10. Share the link on social media.
11. Give yourself another high five, because you’re awesome.

Wood family 2020 recap

joshwoodtx — Wed, 30 Dec 2020 15:43:00 +0000

The Wood family limped out of the year 2019 in hopeful anticipation of a better year 2020.

2020 was…well… What. A. Year.

No one needs or wants me to recap the year for them, but I’m going to. In an effort to spare all of us a bit of inner angst, I’ll sum things up in less than 40 words. Racism and injustice. Protests and riots. Shouting and yelling. Confusion and overconfidence. Lootings and fires. Fire tornadoes and meth gators. Earthquakes and murder hornets. And, all this junk played out against a backdrop of a soul-sucking global pandemic.

That, in a nutshell, was 2020. When the great quarantine began, I noted that it felt like we were awkwardly stumbling through the pages of future history books. For us, that pretty much sums up the rest of 2020: stumbling through the pages of future history books. Awkwardly. Clumsily. Painfully. Angstfully. Exhaustedly. But, thankfully.

Let’s turn the page to 2021, shall we? But first, here’s a quick Wood family 2020 recap:

Isaiah health update

Thankfully, for us, 2020 was immensely better than 2019. We might be among the only humans on planet earth who can say that. Our son is alive, and we avoided the hospital. Our world still involves a lot of medications, therapies, visits with doctors, and a lot of time emotionally on edge; but, we’re indescribably grateful for it. Someday, Careese and I will tell Isaiah’s story in its entirety. It’s a story that deserves to be told. But, we’re not quite ready for that yet. For updates, feel free to follow our CaringBridge blog here: https://www.caringbridge.org/visit/isaiahwood.

As the pandemic raged and the world shut down, we shut down along with it. Like most of you, we observed a strict quarantine for weeks. The great quarantine dragged on…and on…and on. Weeks became months. Trips were cancelled. Plans were changed. Isaiah’s Make-a-Wish trip was postponed, and we were faced with a dilemma. I need to preface our “dilemma” with the following: we continue to pray and believe that Isaiah will continue to heal and go on to live a long, smiley, inspirational, world-changing life. But, we try to be open-handed with that belief. Nothing in the Bible promises physical healing on this earth. Everything in the Bible promises us peace, joy, and a relationship with a gracious creator despite our present circumstances—sick or healthy. Rich or poor. Living or dying. So, we continue to pray, beg, battle, and cry for full healing and long life for Isaiah on this earth. And, we are overwhelmed with gratitude that so many others have joined our fight. But, we don’t place our hope in that. We place our hope in a good God who gives us peace and continues to give us peace—no matter the circumstances.

That said, here’s a terrible question for you. Suppose you were told that your son doesn’t have very long to live. He could have days, weeks, or months, but probably not years. Further suppose that there is a global pandemic raging, and doctors have no idea whether or not said pandemic will affect him. What do you do? Do you, in hopes that he’ll survive to experience adventures later, live out potentially his last days in isolation from the people and experiences that bring him joy? Or, do you mask-up and, as carefully as possible, live as much life as you can?

In 2020, we did our best to strike a good balance between isolation and relationships…between adventure and safety. And, we did our best to protect those around us. We packed as much life as we could into our days. Masked-up, hand-gelled, socially-distanced life. But, life, none-the-less. Here are a couple highlights.

Cousin Time

Those of you who’ve followed our story know that Isaiah’s top 2 Make-a-Wish requests were to go to his Nana’s house (who resides in the same town) and to see his cousins in Nashville. That’s right. When asked the question, “If you could do anything, meet anyone, or go anywhere in the whole world, what would you do, who would you meet, or where would you go?” his answers were “Nana’s house and to see the Nashville cousins.” Love that kid. We tried to pack as much of those two things into 2020 as was pandemic-ly possible. Here are a few outtakes from the absolutely wonderful time spent with the Nashville cousins.

Disney World

As for time spent at Nana’s house….Well, as a Christmas gift, my parents took our family to Disney World. Yes, they’re the best. Those of you who know them already know that. What. A. Gift. For obvious reasons, this trip was wonderful. But, Isaiah absolutely thrived there. We all walked for miles each day. Isaiah walked for miles each day, using his wheelchair far less than he walked. I only include the photo of the wheelchair to show you the glorious gift my brother’s family gave us that transformed Isaiah’s wheelchair into a Buzz Lightyear spaceship. How cool is that? Also worth noting: Isaiah had zero seizures during our stay in Orlando (he normally averages at least 1 seizure every couple of days). It was the strongest we’ve seen him since before the hospital. The Disney trip was a blessing in so many ways. We got to watch Isaiah live. We got to watch all of our kids live. We got to watch my siblings and their kids live. We got to watch my parents live. So, thank you to my parents. What. A. Gift.

Struggle Bus: The Van. The Myth. The Legend.

For those of you who’ve asked about the book, it appears that I’ve sold a couple thousand copies of Struggle Bus. I’m told that those are pretty good numbers. In hindsight, the timing of the book’s release couldn’t have been worse. (Amazon and others had extreme restocking delays thanks to COVID.) Also, the highs and lows of Isaiah’s health often killed my desire to market/promote a “fun” book. Regardless, I’m glad I pushed to release the book despite the circumstances. I think I would have always regretted it had I relegated Struggle Bus to the “Projects” folder on my hard drive. For those of you who took the time to read my book, thank you! I hope you enjoyed learning more about our crazy family. If you haven’t yet read my book, grab a copy or 30 here: https://www.amazon.com/Struggle-Bus-Van-Myth-Legend/dp/1632963922. My kids’ college funds thank you.

Parting thoughts on 2020 and our prayer for you as we enter 2021

We walk away from 2020 closer as a family and more thankful than ever for family and friends. I hope you walked away the same. From Nashville to Amarillo, our family has rallied around us when we needed it most and prayed us through two, well, dumpster fire years. I don’t know where we would be without them.

Our church spent the year walking through the first part of the Old Testament. When Abraham died, he was described as “an old man and full of years” in Genesis 25:8. At the time of his death, David was described in a similar way (“full of days, riches, and honor” 1 Chronicles 29:28) despite having lived a hundred years or so less than Abraham. To me, this implies that the phrases “full of days” and “full of years” have less to do with the quantity of years and more to do with the volume of experiences, life, love, trials, joy, etc. packed into them.

As I read those verses, I realized that they described 2020 well for us: full. By the grace of God, 2020 was full of life for us, despite the obvious storms that raged in our midst and the accompanying setbacks.

For those of you reading this, that is our prayer for you as we all turn the page on this year that will forever leave a dent on history’s timeline. We pray that, for you, 2021 will be a year that is full—despite whatever chaos the year holds. Full of life. Full of hope. Full of peace. Full of joy. Full of family. Full of friends. God bless you, and thank you for joining us on our journey.

A big “thank you” to the Amarillo Police Department

joshwoodtx — Fri, 18 Sep 2020 16:26:22 +0000

Yesterday was a day that we’ve come to dread. Yesterday was blood work day for Isaiah. The whole thing is an awful experience. I mean, it’s never fun to get your blood drawn or await results; but it’s a more complicated affair for us.

As many of you know, Isaiah is on a very delicate balance of seizure medications. On blood work days, we either have to A) wake him up early (very high risk of sending him into a seizure); or, B ) give him his meds up to an hour or two late–after the blood work is done (lower risk of sending him into a seizure). We usually opt for option B, driving him to the lab as quickly as possible after he wakes up in order to delay his meds as little as possible.

On the way to get his blood work done yesterday, Careese was pulled over by a motorcycle cop. Her head dropped for every reason you can imagine. She hoped to accept her fate as quickly as possible and get back on the road to the lab. The officer approached the van, went through the expected routine, and noticed a very nervous passenger, Isaiah. He asked what Isaiah had going on that day. Isaiah struggled to get out the words, so Careese answered on his behalf. “Well, we’re headed to do some blood work.”

“Are you nervous about that?” the officer responded.

Isaiah nervously nodded, “yes.”

The officer encouraged him. “You’ve got this.” “It’s going to be ok.” … that sort of thing.

Then, he paused. “You know what…hang on a second.”

He walked to his motorcycle and back to our van. Then, he presented Isaiah with a shiny “junior officer” badge and sticker. He made quite a big deal about how special the shiny metal badge was.

“They don’t make them like this anymore. See here…the badge I wear is just a sewn-on, fabric one.”

Isaiah held it in his hands and smiled. Then, he released Careese and Isaiah to drive on to the lab.

After finishing up his blood work and returning home, Isaiah strutted into our house, puffed out his badged-up chest, and walked up to his sister for the first of many “Reach for the sky!” moments. Later, he rummaged through our playroom and made himself a holster so as to look more police officer-like. He proudly wore the badge and sticker until leaving the house later that day, only taking them off out of fear of losing them or messing them up somehow.

That APD officer didn’t know our story (latest update here: https://www.caringbridge.org/visit/isaiahwood). He didn’t know the severity of Isaiah’s condition. He just saw a nervous kid and a momma in need of some grace. Our son needed that yesterday. We needed that yesterday.

I know there’s a lot of angst about the police these days, but many of them are among the best of humanity. Thank you, Amarillo Police Department, for being a bright spot in an otherwise dark day. Keep up the great work.

For you runners out there: Amarillo Run Maps

joshwoodtx — Mon, 24 Aug 2020 20:43:16 +0000

A couple years ago I jumped into the world of marathon training. The first week of training was super fun–primarily because I spent the first week buying running gear, making awesome playlists, and not running. After the first week, fun was replaced with a crampy, struggle-y monotony. In an effort to break up the monotony, I started to use Nike Run Club and Strava to create run map art…like a crazy person. Much to my surprise, running my routes in various designs worked. It helped me finish out my training. If you reside in Amarillo, perhaps it will improve your motivation to get out there and run as well. Feel free to steal any of my ridiculous designs. Here you go. (Oh, and *shameless plug* feel free to read more about my marathon adventure in Chapter 4 of my book. Click/tap here to grab a copy.)

Feel free to follow my runs on Strava:

THANKS FOR READING. CONSIDER SUPPORTING MY HOBBY BY BUYING A COPY OF MY BOOK, STRUGGLE BUS: THE VAN. THE MYTH. THE LEGEND. JUST CLICK HERE. THANKS!

Struggle Bus, The Tour

joshwoodtx — Thu, 13 Aug 2020 19:18:53 +0000

For those of you who haven’t been following along, we did a thing. Visit strugglebustour.com to read about the adventure.

Alternatively, click on one of the buttons below to read about a particular stop along the way:

The Story

It was the middle of May, and we had a plan: take off on the ol’ Struggle Bus Tour as soon as the COVID numbers dropped and states began to enter their latter re-opening phases.

Numbers dropped. States reopened. It looked like our 2020-long nightmare might just be drawing to a close.

We masked-up and began our trip. Two days after we arrived in Philadelphia, virus numbers began to reverse course. Ugh. The Struggle Bus Tour was off to a fitting start. Thanks, Corona.

Fortunately for me, my family is amazing at adapting to the curve balls that life throws at it. Of course, I’d be lying if I said we didn’t have a few “I’ll pull this van over right now!” moments. Also, this was a constant battle:

Me: “Do you need to go potty while we’re stopped at this gas station?”
4-year-old: “No.”
Me: “Are you sure?”
Him: “Yep.”
Me: “Are you absolutely sure? Because we won’t be near a bathroom for another hour or so…”
Him: “Yes. I don’t need to go potty.”
Me: “Ok.” [starts driving]
[5 minutes later]
Him: “I need to go potty!”
Me: …

Worth noting: when my 4-year-old says, “I need to go potty,” he doesn’t mean “Excuse me, Mom and Dad. I am feeling the need to use a restroom. If it doesn’t inconvenience you, please stop at the next available establishment that houses an adequately maintained restroom.” He means that he needs to go potty right at that very moment. Worse, he sometimes means that he’s already going a little bit.

The struggle is real. I think our 4-year-old marked his territory on the side of the road in every state from PA to TX.

But, I digress.

Overall, our masked-up, heavily sanitized Struggle Bus adventure was truly wonderful. We laughed. A lot. We sang. We danced. We swam. We played. We prayed. We had a ton of great conversations about riots and race and religion. We had fun giving away a ton of Struggle Bus books in the most ridiculous way possible. I’m sure that some of those books will at most be utilized to even out the leg of a wobbly table or something; but I hope that at least a few people will be blessed by them.

Oh, and a very special thank you to Fast Signs Amarillo for donating a couple magnets to grace the side of our van.

And now, a few previously unshared trip highlights:

In other news…

1) I was runner-up to a pig mystery

Struggle Bus was named a finalist in the “humor” category for The National Indie Excellence Awards. So, that’s fun. If you’re keeping score at home (hi, Mom), that makes Struggle Bus a finalist for two national awards…and ultimately a loser for both. This time, I lost out to a humorous pig mystery. Yes, you read that sentence correctly. That’s the bright side. One can’t be mad about losing out to a humor book whose primary plot is “pig mystery.”

2) The Dark Lord weighed in on Struggle Bus

One reviewer, who calls himself “The Dark Lord” wrote, “I did not expect to find this both so funny and so heartwarming.” I’m not going to lie. That’s probably a sign that my book has peaked. I mean, how do you top the fact that your book has simultaneously tapped the funny bone and tugged at the heart strings of Voldemort? You don’t.

In all seriousness, I continue to be humbled by the reviews that continue to roll in. Read some of them here: https://www.amazon.com/product-reviews/1632963922/ref=acr_dp_hist_5?ie=UTF8&filterByStar=five_star&reviewerType=all_reviews#reviews-filter-bar.

3) I have a couple more super-fun projects in the works. More info soon.

Now that the Struggle Bus Tour is over, I plan to leave http://www.strugglebustour.com online for anyone who would like to read about and/or see the highlight photos/videos of our journey. Here are the links to the recaps for each stop on the tour:

Until next time…

The Pandemic of Racism

joshwoodtx — Wed, 10 Jun 2020 19:05:16 +0000

This past week, I, like many of you, jumped in on #BlackoutTuesday. The injustice of George Floyd’s murder plagued me. I took the week to listen, think, pray, read, and ponder. Now, I have some thoughts. As I mentioned in my last post, my white voice is probably one of the last voices that should be listened to. After a week of study and prayer, I’m even more convinced of that. But, I feel compelled to speak anyway. I’m more and more convinced that, as with all important issues, ineloquently opening the door to conversation is better than silence.

Has everyone else noticed that there are a striking number of parallels between the COVID-19 pandemic and the issue of racism in America?

The brightest minds among us can’t figure out how to eradicate it.
You can’t see it; but you can see the symptoms. In some, the symptoms are obvious. In others, not so much.
It seems to target some subgroups of the population more than others.
Many people are walking around not realizing they are infected.
It has caused an immeasurable loss of lives, jobs, and opportunities.
Some people choose to carry on their lives as if it didn’t exist; and, those people put others in harm’s way.
People are dealing with it in a variety of ways. Some ignore it. Some are overly cautious. Many are mad at others for not seeing things their way.
As with any problem we don’t fully understand how to fix, it has created a lot of personal angst and social unrest.

Perhaps I’m supposed to learn something from all of this. Perhaps society is supposed to learn something from all of this.

COVID-19

When the world shut down, the Wood family shut down. As parents of an immunocompromised child, we were more sensitive to the virus than we normally would’ve been. Like many of you, we lived life on edge these past couple of months. We took great care to avoid unnecessary risks. When we made our infrequent trips out of the house, public conversations with strangers were far more stressful than they ever had been…especially on the occasions when I ran into people who chose not to wear a mask.

“Are they judging me for wearing a mask?”

“Are they going to try to shake my hand?”

“How do I handle this well?”

I knew that, statistically speaking, not many people were infected with the virus and even fewer were at risk of death. But, I didn’t have a reliable way to know who was. So, I lived nervously in public and fearful in private.

Racism

Like many of you, I’ve taken a good bit of time this year to learn more about black history. I’ve read a lot and learned a lot. Among other things, I learned that a surprising number of diverse Americans have lived the entirety of their lives in the same “on edge” fashion that I lived for the last couple of pandemic months. These Americans know that, statistically speaking, a minority of white people are bold, persecuting racists. They know that, statistically speaking, a minority of police officers (or board members…or customer service reps…or [insert name of any power-wielding group here]) are bold, persecuting racists. But, there isn’t a good way to know who is and who isn’t. Also, many white people are walking around infected with the disease of racism and don’t realize it. So, many non-white Americans live nervously in public and fearful in private. For their entire lives.

That thought absolutely grieves me. I would not be where I am today–in relationships or business or religion or general life fulfillment–without a societal comfort level that emboldened me to take risks. I think the same is true for many of my fellow white Americans. Actually, I know it is…because our entire economy stalled when a colorblind pandemic injected uncertainty, nervousness, and fear into society. The ability to take risk–with a safety net of justice–is fundamental to individual advancement. How many innovations, inventions, and ideas has our society missed out on because racism has eroded a safety net of justice for many Americans? My guess is: countless.

A path forward

Our church is in the midst of a study of Deuteronomy right now. This week, we’re in Deuteronomy 26.

The gist of Deuteronomy 26 is this: Israelites are to give out of the firstfruits of what they have to “the Levite, the sojourner, the fatherless, and the widow” (vs. 13). But, they aren’t simply to give. There’s to be a bit of ceremony to it. They are to recite a few words to remind them of a very important truth about their very important history: that they were once the ones who were treated harshly and unjustly. They were once the outcast. They were once the sojourner. They were once the captive.

I think the solution to the two problems—COVID & racism—is an intriguing dichotomy. To stop the spread of the virus, it took unprecedented quarantines and social distancing. To stop the spread of racism, I think it’s going to take the opposite: unprecedented, intentional, diversified togetherness. But, I think those of us who’ve lived with more privilege (or opportunity…or comfort…or ability to take risks…or whatever you want to call it) should accept the biblical call of giving to coincide with intentional togetherness. In other words, I think it’s going to take stodgy white Christians like me giving the firstfruits of what we have—our time, our influence, our money, our expertise, and our love—to those who are being treated harshly and unjustly.

Just to be clear, I don’t think any nationality in America has even the slightest need for white people in to come to its rescue in a “savior” type of way. It’s just that no one group can change society on its own…until we are all one group. We need to work together to create a safety net of justice.

We are all created in the image of God. Same origin. Same potential. I think there is an ever-present call for Christians to reach out in an empathetic way to any group that is being marginalized by society. Of all people, we Christians should share the deepest empathy. My religion tells me this: I was once treated harshly and unjustly. I was once the outcast. I was once the sojourner. I was once the captive. And now, I’m free. If I don’t carry within me a deep desire to actively share that sense of freedom with the marginalized of the world–let alone with the marginalized of America–then, at best I’m a pretty terrible Christian.

That’s all a very wordy way of saying this: I feel that Deuteronomy 26 is as relevant to me, a Christian, today as it was to the Israelites back then. Whenever I see any one person or any group of people living life in a state of nervous apprehension of unjust punishment, it should compel me to give of my “firstfruits” to help eradicate that state–just like Jesus did.

Conversation

As I mentioned, this post is simply an ineloquent (and overly-wordy) way of opening the door to a conversation. There’s virtually no chance I’m going to say things right or do things right as I try to move forward. But, I have to start somewhere. I think we all do. The issue is too important.