by Zach Kincaid

We’re inside and away from everyone. Go tell the beat generation we finally found home even though she rapes us away from how things once were. Do you remember? Phrases like “new normal”, “social distancing” and “wear a mask” each broke out of the insane asylum and into the heads of faulty followers of Fauci. They fooled away reason, throwing it into the offering plate for the greek goddess Hygeia. Don’t you know? She remains the guest preacher in most churches during, what should be, the year of our Lord 2020. Such crossed steeples no longer stand as beacons for suffering made right, as pointers to reconciled bits of geography where burdens meet a Savior. Haven’t you heard? “Sanctuary” once carried meaning. She didn’t mirror the same fears and foibles of a mad world. She loved but never followed the same pied piper with all the rats. Rather, she signaled a place to touch down, to kneel before, to find order in community bound by abiding the sovereignty and providence of God. Why don’t you see? The arms of coronavirus have altered faith in God into love of Hygeia. It’s not simply pastors being prudent, cautious, and wise. As government regulations puppet pastors into expositing restrictions that empty churches of fellowship, relationship, and invitation, the highest good is sacrificed on the altar of sanitation. Crawl back if you want, shot up with vaccinations and regulations, but the damage is done. The majority of pastors kowtowed under the weight, bowing to pressure, mandates, and phases. Will you forget? If we do, we might be sheep led astray… again.