Those of us in the US are settling into new expectations and guidance for day-to-day to life as the coronavirus pandemic spreads.

It has been eye-opening to see how the response has taken off in the digital age. My inbox and feeds have been overloaded with a barrage of resources, ranging from helpful and hopeful to opportunist and promotional. There are prayer guides, recipe bundles, meal kit delivery services, school curricula, home organization tips, exercise routines, and daily crafts.

The offerings—along with the many posts and articles advising what we might do in this new, largely homebound reality—present a unique tension. On the one hand, life goes on to an extent. We cannot do nothing. We must continue to eat meals, wash laundry, walk our dogs, play with our kids, run our households, read our Bibles, and live our lives. On the other hand, there’s pressure to take advantage of our time in isolation. The implication is that this is an opportunity. Whether it’s a project, a daily goal, or even the intention to savor family time, these instincts betray our compulsion to be busy and productive.

The more I think about it, I do not believe I need to make something special out of these two weeks (or four weeks or eight weeks) spent mostly solo. I do not have to justify or make up for time spent home. This is not a retreat; it’s life under what may prove to be draining, frustrating, and unsettling constraints—particularly as the disease inevitably spreads in our own communities.

I fear the enthusiasm for projects and new routines, though fun distractions now, may wear off rather quickly, depending on how the outbreak affects your household. We have to be in it for the long haul, if necessary, and that means accepting that some days will be far less productive than life before the pandemic. Some days won’t feel productive at all. That’s OK. We’re still doing the right thing by staying home to protect our communities and ourselves.

I’m sure there’s a lesson here that God will reveal in the season ahead. Perhaps I will finally let go of my work and deepen my commitment to Sabbath rest. Maybe I will grow more intentional about reaching out to connect with the friends and family I care about. But I’m also not going to put a spiritual expectation on the season. I do not believe we need to go looking for a Christian-tinged silver lining in what will be a deadly and life-altering global pandemic.

Instead, I will remind myself that God is present with every socially distanced service worker; every panicked parent wrangling kids at home; every lonely pastor preaching to a video camera. And unlike the standards we set for ourselves, God does not judge us according to our work or productivity. Whether our ambitious to-do list was completed or whether we never even changed out of pajama pants, our lives can be submitted to God who reigns on high and cares for us.

Kate