By Ignacio Gama

Herbert Braun, a historian and professor at the University of Virginia, recently offered a constructive piece of advice. He asked his students to keep a record of their lives in the current circumstances in the form of a journal, a blog, art, poetry, or their own choice of creative expression. This time of Coronavirus is, after all, a historic moment which will be discussed and written about throughout the world in future years. Producing an account of our experience is not only therapeutic on a personal level, but also potentially valuable for posterity. By writing it all down, we might be able to make some sense of our present constraints and struggles; or, by exercising our inventive talents, we might gain objectivity and even optimism in the face of uncertainty.

As Christians, we could give ourselves the chance to reflect on this modified reality from a spiritual standpoint. We are faced with many limitations on some of our most familiar activities as well as the impossibility of performing many others. Therefore, it might be fitting to take notice of our thoughts, words, and actions in light of what the Gospel asks of us. Without an end in sight, this epidemic has turned our minds to immediate concerns, such as the wellbeing and livelihood of our loved ones and ourselves, which are no doubt important. But this is perhaps also an unusual opportunity to turn to Christ for the health of our souls, and the pureness of our hearts, after his own heart. 

Several religious commentators have referred to this global anxiety as “a call to repentance.” But it is naïve to pretend to know if any particular adversity is brought about by sin. We do know, however, from the testimonies of countless Christians throughout the ages, that God can use unfavorable times to bring us back to a healthy relationship with him. This dreaded virus is yet another reminder of our fallen world. Suffering and death were, and continue to be, the inevitable consequences of original sin. The universality of this disease reminds us of our fragile nature, and we are all to some degree afraid or demoralized. But in the intimacy of our own homes, we can hope and pray that the Holy Spirit will work in us and mold us according to God’s plan.

The Pentecost narrative from the Acts of the Apostles invites us to reflect on the fateful day when the Christian church was born. That morning, the disciples were secluded in one place. The roaring sound of wind encompassed them, and they knew the Holy Spirit had come, as Jesus had promised. After the Resurrection, this is arguably the most spectacular display of the power of God in the New Testament. So powerful, in fact, that a crowd of people gathered around the apostles, astonished that they could understand them, each in their own native language.

These unknown Galileans have been baptized with fire, and they experience the action and excitement of the Spirit of God. This motivates them and us to proclaim the gospel to all peoples with eloquence and boldness. The prime example is Peter, who only a few weeks prior had denied even knowing Jesus. He stands up, with uncharacteristic assertiveness, and raises his voice to address a multitude of pilgrims. They come from every corner of the known world and some of them may have witnessed, or even demanded, Christ’s crucifixion. And in their presence, Peter declares that the same Jesus who was crucified is none other than the Lord and Messiah, whose coming was foretold by Joel and David. The sign that the Roman soldiers had placed mockingly above Christ’s head on the day of his execution had, unbeknownst to them, announced a shocking reality: Christ is King.

Luke tells us that, upon hearing this, the people are “cut to the heart.” Through Peter’s words, the Spirit is already generating the first fruit of faith: repentance. It is a recognition that beliefs, attitudes, and actions, may in fact be in conflict with God’s purpose. And this brings the crowd to ask one simple question: “What should we do?” This is the same question posed to John the Baptist in Luke’s Gospel, after he has requested that those who are to be baptized “produce fruits of repentance.” It is a similar openness to the one displayed by Saul of Tarsus when he meets the Lord face to face, “What would you have me do?” Beyond the sorrow of sin, the ultimate effect of conversion is a humble surrender to the will of God. Not to live, as Paul would later declare, but to allow Christ to live in us.

Peter in turn has one demand: “Repent and be baptized!” In this way his own people may enter into the holy covenant of God’s children promised to their forebears since the beginning. The new family of God is born in the hearts of those “born again” in water and the spirit. In every nation and culture, everyone the Lord calls to himself can receive the Spirit and be counted as a partaker of the Kingdom of Heaven.

One of the theologians of the early church, Cyril of Jerusalem (c. 313-386), wrote in his Catechetical Lectures that the very fire which covered the apostles on Pentecost also envelops the followers of Jesus of other generations: “This fire is now coming upon you also,” he said, “to strip away and consume your sins which are like thorns, and to brighten yet more that precious possession of your souls, and to give you grace.” 

True repentance is about an ongoing disposition to let the Holy Spirit act in our lives, to purify us like precious metals that are constantly exposed to the elements. John Calvin (1509-1564) understood repentance as “regeneration,” a lifelong process with the aim of forming us anew in the image of God. We know from Scripture that those in Christ have died to sin and are given a new life, which will have its full realization on the day of the resurrection. In the meantime, we continue to face these realities of this world: sin, disease, and death. Repentance, therefore, is not the work of a single moment, but of a constant dependence on God’s love. In that way, we allow him to redirect and transform all our faculties and affections. 

Prayerful repentance is illustrated in the old Compline hymn: “withhold from us our ghostly foe, that spot of sin we may not know.” Our prayer to be made clean each day is not the product of guilt or fear. Instead, it is the recognition that Christ is the cure for our deepest wounds. In him alone we find, as Calvin affirms, “perfect forgiveness, acceptance and rest.” This is a time of many worries but, with gospel-centered hindsight, also one of enormous possibilities for a deeper knowledge of oneself in Christ, and of genuine and continuing conversion. We examine ourselves and pray for repentance, not to appease the wrath of an angry God, but to give greater glory to our loving Father. The Spirit of God with us, as in every age. The fire of that Spirit burns in us as it did in the hearts of those perplexed first Christians, to bring us forgiveness and to reclaim us as Christ’s own.

Ignacio Gama is pursuing a Master of Divinity at Nashotah House Theological Seminary, as an aspirant for ordination in the Diocese of Dallas. Born and raised in Mexico City, he was trained as an international lawyer. Prior to entering seminary, Ignacio lived in Boston and New York City for a number of years pursuing professional studies and work in opera. He loves the outdoors, a good book, theatre, live music, and new food experiences.