In a global pandemic with disruption, distancing, and isolation, no one who ran to the store was thinking about sweets. They were thinking about sustenance. There’s a lesson here for all of us when it comes to our faith. The temptation in our day is for preachers and teachers, songwriters and artists to try to draw crowds by serving up sweets over sustenance.
Corina and I were on a marriage retreat late last week when the spread of the coronavirus hit home in the United States, prompting new restrictions for public gatherings and a wave of “panic buying” across the country.
On Saturday evening, the two of us went out for a few groceries. As we walked through the aisles, the empty shelves drew my attention. What had disappeared, and why? These questions fascinated me.
What surprised me most was the absence of any meat in both the frozen and refrigerated sections. A few lonely bottles of barbecue sauce stared at me from the shelf. The produce section looked like it had been raided, with empty buckets where potatoes usually sat. Down the center aisle, the only flour that remained was what had spilled out from bags that had been bought earlier. No rice to be found. The pasta section had only a few stray packages left.