Pressure reveals the person.

It’s always when things are tough and the stress piles on that what’s underneath emerges.

When all our kids were young and I was running a church office out of my home, the phone often rang right in the middle of some kind of family pandemonium. Our daughter Anna used to yell “Quiet!” at the top of her lungs, then in the ensuing moment of silence would pick the phone up with an ultra-competent voice saying, “Campbell’s. How can I help you?” No one ever knew what had been going on a split second before.

Please tell me I’m not the only person this has happened to!

I was due to take a zoom call and the guy I was talking to had even reminded me a couple hours before. Then distraction hit. I was trying to finish my income tax return, got lost in the detail and missed the call. Thankfully he’s a merciful man and we’ll be able make up the call later.

When it comes to doing church in our culture, one very strange but true observation can be made: it’s amazing how much we can do without God.

When you have access to financial resources, a decent building, good sound equipment and a preacher who can either stir the crowd up or make them feel good, you can do quite a lot without ever involving God in the process.

I’m sure we’ve all been deluged with opinions on how to survive the long drudgery of this pandemic.

There’s no doubt it has taken a toll. Every public opinion survey you read and every mental health professional you talk to will tell you not only how hard it’s been on people but how long it’s going to take to dig countless millions out of the abyss of hopelessness, anxiety and despair.

I don’t have any great answers other than depending on the fact that God is faithful and will help those who call on him.

But I do have one small suggestion to offer. It’s what I call the next step. Just look at what’s in front of you now.

A scene that unfolded as I looked out our patio doors this week pretty much summed up the last year. The people building a house on the vacant lot adjacent to us for no apparent reason obliterated a number of beautiful hundred year old trees that were a blaze of colour every October.

I might as well say it — I was angry. I felt — and was — helpless to prevent something that shouldn’t have happened. And that, I think, is how a lot of us feel processing the events of these past months.