Distance

Zoom is great for some things. It really is. It’s literally been a life line during the last year. Where would we be if we hadn’t been able to meet remotely? We’ve been able to meet with people in all sorts of ways we never thought possible. My own family have been able to meet together - all of us - on Zoom. We didn’t manage to do that in person for mum’s 85th birthday in November 2019. We could find a way to get everyone to the place we met: either the timing or the business of life didn’t allow. But we managed to get everyone on a Zoom call just after Christmas! Amazing! Zoom (and there are other ways of meeting virtually) has made distance smaller. It has brought us closer in may ways. But Zoom is more difficult for some things. Some things work better in you’re there in person. What we have realised in the last couple of weeks is what many people have experienced during the pandemic: talking to a dying loved one over Zoom is, well, difficult. You want to be there. You really want to be there. Perhaps it’s better than nothing, that’s probably true. But there is no substitute for being with people in their darkest and hardest moments. What I’ve observed during this last year is that we’ve had to do so many things at a distance. Even now at the hospital there are security guards on the door. You can only go in if you’re staff or if you have a valid reason. For most people that means visiting at a distance: we call it Zoom. I don’t know why it’s called Zoom, but maybe it’s something about making the distance smaller - zooming in. Maybe. And maybe it’s true. But it’s not what we want. We want to be there. We want to be present. Mostly distance is not good. Sometimes distance is good. Trying to beat the virus requires distance. And beating the virus would be good. But it brings consequences that are not good: distance from loved ones, from community, from company, from friends. It seems to me too, that lots of people are wondering where God is in all this. He seems, well, distant. I know that feeling because I’ve felt it too. It’s been a tough year and it’s not getting any easier. And I am tempted to ask why God is not close, why he seems distant. I love the story of Jesus meeting the disciples on the beach after his resurrection in John 21. Peter and the others go fishing and they fish all night catching nothing. Exhausted and hungry, they are returning to the shore when the man on the beach tells them to throw their nets over the other side of the boat. They do and they catch what is probably one of the biggest hauls of their lives (we’re even told how many fish they caught). Here’s the thing that bugs me though: why did Jesus wait until they had been fishing all night to help them? Why not come to them at the beginning of the night: “Right lads, here’s where you need to fish, trust me!” But no, he lets them go all through the night. I’m not sure I’ll know the answer as to why he did that. I can speculate and so can you. Lots of people have. But here’s the thing: Jesus was not as far away as they might have thought. And what looked like a huge distance to Peter and the others wasn’t quite the same distance to Jesus. He was there, they simply couldn’t see and didn’t know. Perhaps it’s really true that when we feel God is distant, he is very close. I’m going to hold on to that truth. And maybe you can too.