Moral FatigueHe withdrew about a stone’s throw beyond them, knelt down and prayed, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from Me; yet not My will, but Yours be done.” An angel from heaven appeared to Him and strengthened Him. Luke 22:41-43


Holy Week is the most significant week in the Christian church. It’s skyrocketing highs and abysmal lows. Palm Sunday yesterday: Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem, when only He knew the way the week would end. Many of Christ’s followers thought He had come to end the Roman oppression of the Jews; little did they know their ”King” would be arrested and put to death. No one suspected He would break those bonds and rise from the tomb to walk among them again—if only for a short time.


What does “Holy Week” mean to us during this pandemic? Rolling Stone Magazine published an article last week about our abrupt and surprising awareness of what “public health” means: we are suddenly, painfully aware of our potential part in spreading this deadly virus. “Whether it’s trying to decide if you should visit a sick family member, order delivery, take public transit, or take a trip to the grocery store,” the article states, “we now have to think through the potential implications of many of our totally normal, everyday actions and decisions in a way we never had to before, because of how they could affect others.” It’s “Moral Fatigue,” and it’s exhausting.


Surely Jesus’ “moral fatigue” was on full display in the Garden of Gethsemane. He literally came to earth to carry out a specific mission for God, yet here He asks to be let go of the responsibility of saving all mankind. How, then, can we be so selfish, to think that sitting at home on our couch and being bored is any imposition at all? Even losing our livelyhoods and our children’s school and day care and the privilege of going to a restaurant or a movie for a short period of time seems inconsequential to slowing this great, invisible enemy called COVID-19. And I’m reminded that, even though Christ begged the Father to “take this cup” from Him, He soon relented and said, “Yes, Father, Your will and not Mine.”


Healing Lord, You sent an angel to strengthen Your Son in His darkest hour. Send the angels to us in our calamity now. Amen


Meg Blaine Corrigan tells stories of wisdom, strength, fear, joy and risk-taking. Daughter of a raging alcoholic mother, and survivor of sexual assault at gunpoint, Corrigan has shaken a dismal past and flung herself into the arms of Christ, Who sustains her in her daily walk of grace. She shares with her listeners her incredible story of surviving and thriving through many trials during her seven decades walking this fragile earth. She has been described as a Renaissance Woman, integrating her formal training in psychology and counseling, an enlightening experience as a percussionist for a Polynesian show troupe, and most recently as an inspirational author and blogger, to the delight of all who read her work and hear her speak. Her exposure to many life experiences has enriched her passion for spreading Christ’s word and helping other trauma survivors. She has a master’s degree in Guidance and Counseling and thirty-plus years of experience in the field of counseling and social work.  She lives in Lake Elmo, Minnesota, with the love of her life, Patrick, and their formerly disenfranchised rescue dog Ginger.

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