Dear Blasé Believers,

While COVID-19 continues its persistent and devastating work of being a virus, many of the social precautions have lifted, and, while still mask-wearing, we’ve emerged from isolation only to find ourselves bored in new and familiar ways. One year ago this week, I was playing with the green screen set-up in Room G-9, wondering the best way to visualize a burning bush before the shoeless Moses; Lilly Dodge produced a video reading a children’s book about Pentecost; Peter Benson used his apartment as a space to discuss human struggle and Jason rendered a multi-track Praise Team song over great visuals of spark and smoke. Those were the days—so much to do, so many opportunities. Who could be bored?

Now, if we want to enjoy church, we all have to show up at the same place at the same time on the same day, and we sit in the same room looking at the same window and wall; the tedium is almost unbearable. Thank goodness that God has given us the cell phone so we can look up random facts while the preacher drones on and on about something or other that he naively feels is engaging. It’s hard to remember that we called lockdown boring given the stuff we’re enduring now.

Of course, the way we remember is the problem—or perhaps the protection. Our brains are wired to recall dynamic change, not repeated tedium. If you mentally and emotionally retained the experience of driving to the Grand Canyon, a full 80% of the recollection would be nothing but Nebraska. No one could endure the journey twice. Once the vacation has ended, we recall the breathtaking vistas and the mule rides with vivid detail even though they comprise a relatively small percentage of the lived experience. That’s why I have fond memories of summer camp even though the experience involved several hours of gradually inflicted sunburn wandering around right field waiting for the inning to end so I could have the opportunity to strike out after four pitches. Ah, those were the days.

That’s the problem with the past; we remember the high points, the big moments, the grand events, while we mindlessly jettison the long unremarkable in-between times. Congregations are always battling memory. We think back to the packed Christmas Eve services, the exploding Easter gatherings, the cantatas and musicals, the massive mission trips. We seldom recall the pre-air-conditioned summer Sundays when, as some of our old timers have told me, attendance was less than thirty because the Sanctuary was designed for sweltering. The Session finally agreed to the expense of conditioned air for fear we were losing too many members to the cooler confines of Christ Church Oak Brook.

The fact remains that God’s people have always had a problem with present boredom when they recall the majestic memories of powerful provision. In Psalm 44 the poet laments, “We have heard with our ears, O God, our ancestors have told us, what deeds you performed in their days, in the days of old: you with your own hand drove out the nations, but them you planted; you afflicted the peoples, but them you set free...” From there the people’s complaint amplifies. (Read the full Psalm here.)

Lest we confine the problem of boredom to Judeo-Christian communities, the pagan philosopher Seneca the Elder lamented, “Quo usque eadem” (trans. “How much longer [must we keep enduring] the same things?”). Discontent with the present seems to be a universally human problem.

Sometimes the greatest enemy of present contentment is the overwhelming compressed memory of past satisfaction. It’s hard to compete with the past; there’s so much of it, and unfortunately our memories edit out the vast expansive boring bits.

Perhaps we could better savor our present moments though the eye of our future selves when these will be longingly referred to as “the good old days.”

Looking forward to seeing now as wonderful, I remain,

With Love,
Jonathan Krogh
Your Pastor