I jolted awake at 2:30 a.m. An earthquake. It was our sixth quake in the two weeks since Thanksgiving, and this was the third day in a row the house had vibrated from the impact of tectonic plates far below. Earthquakes are unusual in Kansas, which only fed the speculations and scary predictions on Facebook.

“When the earth totters, and all its inhabitants, it is I who keep steady its pillars,” God tells us (Psalm 75:3). In all the stress of 2020, I feel the meaning of this verse even more acutely.

Most of the time, we are easily distracted people. To-do lists, calendars, entertainment, and the perpetual scapegoat of social media often pull us into our own little manageable worlds, but in this past year we couldn’t ignore the realities outside of our control. Uncertainty brought on by racial tension, rioting, polarizing politics, and the ever-present COVID-19 has dominated media coverage and, most likely, our fears and prayers. Even in these early weeks of 2021, mounting tensions prompt headlines we never expected to read.

Could it be that the God who holds the earth together meant for all this chaos to grab our attention? Our blinders are off. We are awake. We can feel the earth — the predictable systems and processes of the human race — shaking beneath our feet.

The Bible issues two different calls about wakefulness to two different groups of people. Perhaps in these unusual years we realize all the more which camp we are living in.

A call to surrender

In John’s vision on the isle of Patmos, Jesus issued a warning to some who thought they were safe: “‘I know your works. You have the reputation of being alive, but you are dead. Wake up, and strengthen what remains and is about to die…Remember, then, what you received and heard. Keep it, and repent’” (Revelation 3:1-3).

If there is anything that 2020 showed us, it is our own powerlessness. Human strength failed us last year. Schools closed. Businesses shut down. Government fixes only seemed to contribute to the problems, and even our state-of-the-art medical knowledge came up short. People panicked, and the next thing we knew grocery stores were rationing toilet paper. 2020 exposed our weaknesses and the sources of our hope and proved that many who thought they had a strong foundation had none.

If you haven’t turned to Christ, 2020 has illustrated that anything else you ever place your hope in will eventually fail you, if it hasn’t already. Your good deeds will do nothing to merit you any favor with Him. Your retirement planning and stock portfolio will not shield you from eternity without Christ.

“Now is the day of salvation,” Paul wrote (2 Corinthians 6:2b), and that has never been truer than after this past year. Who knows what the next year may bring forth, and how much time is left?

A call to action

“For you yourselves are fully aware that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night. While people are saying, ‘There is peace and security,’ then sudden destruction will come upon them as labor pains come upon a pregnant woman, and they will not escape. But you are not in darkness, brothers, for that day to surprise you like a thief. For you are all children of light, children of the day…So then let us not sleep, as others do, but let us keep awake and be sober” (1 Thessalonians 5:2-6).

For those of us who have trusted Christ, our foundation is secure; we can face the shocks of life with confidence and hope. But perhaps this past year has shown us that what we have built on our foundation is not as strong as we had thought. It may be that 2020 has tested our building materials, showing them to be the wood, hay, and stubble that they are (1 Corinthians 3:11-15).

How easy it is to float along in fair-weather seas, living piously as we make our own plans and pursue our fulfillment in the ease and entertainment offered us in this life. But when the ground quivers beneath us, we are jolted out of our daydreaming life — our good plans and self-improvement strategies crumbling like a child’s sandcastle at the impact of the incoming tide.

2020 has reminded us that there is more at stake than our pursuit of the American dream. What does it matter if we plan the perfect dinner party or land the big client or check off everything on our bucket list — if we never share the good news with our friends, coworkers, and neighbors? To enter God’s presence one day “only as through fire” (1 Corinthians 3:15) would be a sad return on the gifts and opportunities He gives all of us.

Whatever else may be subject to fluctuating expert opinions, we know that an eternity without Christ is infinitely worse than the pain and suffering the world has experienced these last few months. Our family, friends, and neighbors have been social distancing and isolating from the threat of illness. Are we warning them to flee from the much greater suffering to come?

Time is short

A few hours after an earthquake woke me from my slumber, yet another shook our house. I’m beginning to get used to them, even ignore them. May we not do so with the reminders of 2020.

An enemy commander once tauntingly asked Hezekiah’s people: “On what do you rest this trust of yours?” (2 Kings 18:19), and as we near the end of this unusual year, we can hear his question echoing in our own hearts.

2021 lies before us, and we don’t know yet what all it will hold. But Christ knows, and He issues us a charge: “‘And what I say to you I say to all: Stay awake”’” (Mark 13:37).

Photo by Gabriella Clare Marino on Unsplash