Hard Times: With Christ and Community

Have you heard the Ryan Bingham song:

Hard times they come and they go,
and most of the time they’re in the middle of the road.
Same pain, different ways,
Don’t you know, son when it pours it rains.

If you’re talking to people in the grocery store aisle, or chatting with friends after church, you’ve probably heard about some of the hard times following us around. It seems like some of us just can’t catch a break. Over half of Americans say we’re already in a recession and many of the rest are pretty certain it’s coming before the end of the year. Inflation is high, basics like pasta and flour are still in short supply, and more than 4 out of 5 of us say wages aren’t keeping up with inflation.

But data is sometimes hard to translate into real life experiences. At my parish food pantry, more people are stopping by to pick up essentials. We’re having a hard time keeping up with demand. Last week, at the grocery store I talked to a retired woman who was stocking up on peanut butter. She’s had to stop buying meat because she can’t afford to keep up with rising prices. An older friend of mine, who’s also retired and living on a fixed income, has replaced most of the chicken in her regular menu with less expensive options.

For most of us, hard times are here in some way or another. Inflation and (not-quite) recession aren’t the only burdens many of us are bearing. Mental health issues are on the rise, the jump in alcoholism that started during the pandemic has not slowed down, and so many people are still far away from the Sacraments. Sadly, I’m still meeting Catholics who haven’t come back to the Church after the lockdowns. For some families, one parent has returned to church, while the other is “taking some time away.”

What a bundle of challenges! Even if your income can keep up with inflation, you may be grieving a spouse, child, or sibling who has walked away from the Church or lost the mental health support they counted on.

Same Pain, Different Ways

Hard times are tough to prepare for. You never quite know what’s coming next. But if you look back at the people who have survived other, harder times you can learn a lot.

Life Skills

Of course, there are the basic, life skills – knowing how to bake bread, mend clothes, and grow your own produce are great ways to save money in a tight economy.

They’re also easy skills to learn. Really! Your bread doesn’t have to look like gorgeous sourdoughs that graced social media in 2020 – a simple, yeasted loaf is just as sustaining. Patched clothes have also taken on an intimidating, hipster vibe. Patching clothes can be an art project, but it can also just be a way to eke out a few more months of use from a tired pair of jeans.

Don’t let yourself get intimidated by the bespoke-domesticity crowd. Your skill will develop over time, and right now, your primary focus is functionality. Pick one skill to work on at a time, and don’t pressure yourself to be the most frugal, self-sufficient, DIYer of all times. Just find one, little skill that you can build on.

Flexibility

Life never looks quite like you expected it to. You might have expected a quiet retirement, like your dad had. You might have expected to settle down in the suburbs with a couple of kids and a dog, working and sending them to the local school. But maybe now you can’t afford to retire, or you pulled the kids from school during the pandemic and now you’re trying to homeschool while living on one income.

If there’s one thing our Depression-era grandparents can teach us, it’s flexibility. A willingness to change plans when you have to is a sign of strength. Trust God with your plans. “The Lord is my portion, … therefore I will hope in Him,” writes Jeremiah in the book of Lamentations, “He will have compassion … for He does not willingly afflict or grieve the sons of men” (Lamentations 3:24, 32–33).

When opportunities arise, welcome them. They may not be what you had in mind, but they might be exactly what you need.

Community

Too many of our communities are fragmented, but not all of them. Last week, my little family gathered for a fourth of July party with local friends. There was a potluck spread, burgers on the grill, fireworks on the lawn, and crowds of people. I knew about half of them. The kids congregated in the backyard, our parish priest brought some friends from out of state, and everyone had a great evening. It reminded me of Independence Day parties from my childhood, gatherings that seem all too rare these days.

During the party, I talked to someone who was looking to get rid of her ducks. I talked to someone else about rabbits. I gave a cake recipe to a newlywed and learned how to turn steel wool into homemade sparklers from a Franciscan brother.

“Influencers” talk a lot about intentional community, I talk about it as well. But the richest communities are unintentional. Clusters of people who find each other, share ideals, and develop friendships. Without authentic communities, we’re floundering.

Social media doesn’t count. Your online friends aren’t there to help fix your car or bring you a casserole when your life is falling apart. Community does that – whether they’re friends, or just friendly neighbors. Reach out, get to know them, and be the neighbor you want to have. It’s surprising what a small gesture can start.

Christ

The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want;
he makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters;
he restores my soul.  (Psalm 23:1–3)

During hard times we learn to trust God. We learn to let Him restore our souls. I love the image of Christ the Good Shepherd, maybe because I have sheep of my own. Sheep are known for being timid animals. They seem to worry all the time. They panic easily and act stupid when they’re scared. But because I just have a small flock of sheep, I get to see just how much they grow to trust their shepherd. My sheep trust me. They follow me, knowing I’ll keep them safe and let them “lie down in green pastures.” The trust of a sheep for the shepherd it knows is a beautiful thing.

This is the kind of trust we should have in Christ too – even when He’s standing next to us with large, sharp shears. My sheep know those shears – they know that if they stand still, they’ll be safe and a lot more comfortable. I should be looking at Christ with the same trust – standing beside Him and trusting Him to cut away the excess in my life.

We can do it, it’s scary sometimes; but don’t panic – the Shepherd is right there with you, and He will restore your soul.