Under House Arrest

I woke up in the middle of the night with a vague sense of anxiety. I thought I was doing well during this pandemic—taking one day at a time, appreciating the blessings I have today. But those annoying thoughts that I suppress in the daylight have a way of sidling up to the forefront of my brain at night.

How long will this last? I’m okay with staying at home for a little while, but indefinitely? It’s beginning to feel like house arrest. True, I have all the basic modern necessities—food, shelter, internet, coffee. But if I venture out for a walk in the neighborhood, my internal critic warns, “Don’t get too close to your neighbors.” If I make a quick trip to the grocery, I’m accompanied by a vague sense that I shouldn’t be there.

I feel like a prisoner in my own home.

Then I remembered someone else who’d once been under house arrest: the apostle Paul.

After his third missionary journey, Paul was arrested and, eventually, sent to Rome, where he awaited trial. He was allowed to live by himself with a soldier to guard him (Acts 28:16).

Paul wrote his letter to the church in Philippi while he was under house arrest. The message of Philippians is “Rejoice!”

I don’t know about you, but I haven’t exactly been rejoicing lately. Tolerating, maybe. Making the best of the situation. Maybe even giving thanks for a few things. But not rejoicing.

So why was Paul rejoicing? He was a man with places to go and people to see. A man on a mission to preach the gospel. I picture him as a go-getter, not the type to sit at home quietly reading his scrolls and basking in peace and solitude. Wasn’t he restless, fidgety, itching to get back to work?

Rejoicing

While under house arrest, Paul rejoiced because he saw his spiritual children growing. He rejoiced that bold believers were spreading the gospel. He saw prayers answered, deliverance forthcoming, and Christ exalted. (Phil. 1) Unity in the body of Christ brought him joy. (Phil. 2:2, 14-18) He rejoiced in the generosity of believers as God used them to meet his needs. (Phil. 4:10-13)

I’d be more inclined to rejoice if I noticed the good that’s still in the world. Is the name of Jesus being lifted up? Are believers coming together, if not in person, then at least in spirit? Is God meeting needs in unimaginable ways?

Paul learned to be content in his situation, but he didn’t consider himself in a holding pattern, awaiting his release so he could return to “normal.” His mission continued during his imprisonment. It just looked different.

Deepening His Relationship with God

Paul’s main goal was to get to know Christ better (Phil. 3:10), and even in prison, he pressed on to pursue that goal.

“Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” (Phil. 3:12-14 NIV)

Like Paul, I desire to deepen my relationship with God. Often, when things get busy, my prayers seem less like a conversation with my Father in heaven and more like a recitation of the to-do list I’m giving God. (As if he’d take orders from me.)

But frantic times call for fervent prayers.

And confusing times call for two-way conversations with God. That means listening to his still, small voice and receiving wisdom from his Word.

Focusing on Those Nearby

Like us, Paul longed for his friends who were far away (Phil. 1:8), but while in Rome he focused on the people nearby. Since he was allowed visitors, he used his two years of imprisonment to teach the people who came to see him.

“He lived there two whole years at his own expense, and welcomed all who came to him, proclaiming the kingdom of God and teaching about the Lord Jesus Christ with all boldness and without hindrance.” (Acts 28:30-31 ESV)

While we’re huddled close together at home, we can strengthen our relationships with those closest to us. We have time to lavish our husbands and children with undistracted attention. We can’t visit our friends across town, but we can chat with neighbors across the street.

We have something Paul lacked: technology that allows us to connect with loved ones across the miles. In these unrushed days, authentic, heartfelt conversations can replace the superficial chit chat that dominated our busy lives.

Creating Things that Last

During his imprisonment, Paul composed something of lasting value. He wrote epistles that have stirred the spirits of countless people through the centuries.

Do you have an embryo of an idea that’s been waiting to grow? Something you’ve been yearning to create if only you had time?

Like Paul, we can use this time to move forward. We don’t need to get back to “normal.” We’re already there. The normal Christian life means serving God in all circumstances.

[Tweet “The normal Christian life means serving God in all circumstances.”]

I’m rethinking my situation, trying not to view “stay-at-home” as “house arrest.”

Instead of a prison, I’m looking at my home as a hideaway where I can deepen my relationship with God and with those in my immediate presence.

Home can be a lighthouse, and from inside, I can broadcast messages of hope through phone calls, texts, and the internet.

Home can be an incubator for creativity. Ideas that have been swirling around in my mind are now beginning to take form.

How about you?

Which relationships can you deepen in this unusual state of normal?

Who can you contact? Who can you encourage?

What project have you longed to start, but never had the time?

Like Paul, let’s rejoice and press on.

Margaret Kemp spends most days teaching a classroom full of lively five-and six-year-olds. She’s attracted to be fragrance of vanilla, the printed word, and all things blue and white. She delights in spending time with her husband and family, singing praises with her church choir peeps, and traveling. Her heart’s desire is to know God better and learn to trust him more.

Photograph © Kelly Sikkema, used with permission