Easter time 2020. What a paradox – rejoicing in freedom, whether through our faith, or by virtue of a long weekend from work, contrasted with the now law-enforced restricted physical freedom.

I speak from the point of view of both disadvantage and vulnerability. Firstly, whilst I acknowledge our privilege, not being disadvantaged ourselves, I did spend my childhood in a country that will reel from this pandemic’s impact, where I observed extreme disadvantage. Secondly, years of my adult life have been spent parenting a vulnerable, profoundly immunosuppressed child – we’ve lived in the shadow of cancer-induced restrictions, with our ‘freedoms’ curtailed, through no fault of our own (the cause of Ned’s leukaemia has as much to do with us, his parents, as the start of this pandemic has to do with you).

Having lived the first decade of my life in Congo, I saw most people around me living in service of others, not comfort-seeking or self-indulging, nor looking to blame or argue with anyone about what they didn’t have, or ending relationships over disagreements. Maslow’s hierarchy – ensuring safety, food and health was far more important than arguing about blame and taking pride in being right. As my years in Australia went on, I started noticing I was developing some indifference towards my privilege – a growing apathy about the hot showers I could have at any time, electricity 24/7, clean water I could drink whenever I was thirsty, my ability to drive a car on safe roads, easy access to fresh produce and any groceries at my convenience, expert healthcare within a short drive, good education for our children, ease of travel if we were to decide on a trip, attending church without persecution, access to a clean gym or safe tracks to run on. And then I re-visited Congo, and I was stopped sharply in my tracks, chastened and humbled – these friends of ours had just endured a war, many family members were killed or wounded, their ‘houses’ (mud huts) had been looted or burned, their incomes had ceased, their children were often hungry, or wearing disintegrating clothes and sharing beds with each other, and yet, they were overjoyed to see us, invited us in, fed us, and told us of how God had looked after them, listing all the things they were grateful for. This is how most of the world lives.

Then having lived most of these last few years at the mercy of cancer, with our child’s need for isolation (either in the high-rise apartment with no outdoors, or in a hospital room) as utmost priority, and our other children’s needs as a close second; our desires, and even necessities have been of distant unimportance. We’ve both had to live a lot of self-denial and deprivation for the sake of our children, with super-imposed study and work for the sake of income, however we have had no resentment towards the child who has cancer, and actually little towards the cancer itself. Why waste emotional energy on anger at a disease? Why get wrapped up in blame that won’t relieve bitterness? I’m not saying this for sympathy because we weren’t always very good at it – in fact, Ned led by miles in humility and selflessness. But let no one tell us that we don’t get it because right now we are comfortable in a warm, secure home with outdoor space – we’re not complaining. We do indeed understand, because this ‘home isolation’ thing, while homeschooling, working and studying amidst chaos, is not foreign to us – we know too well what restricted freedom, physical space, no holidays, no ability to make plans with others and having to lock ourselves away means. And I’m shocked that, though so many Christians uphold the compassion, selflessness and love that Jesus demonstrated through His sacrifice on the cross, on this very day centuries later, I have to reflect on all the self-seeking, outraged and blaming attitudes that I’ve observed over the last few weeks when suddenly there’s some discomfort or impeded freedom.

Let me tell you, we didn’t ask for cancer – as much as you didn’t ask for coronavirus. Even if you believe it’s someone’s fault, it doesn’t matter now. We’ve been told that it jeopardises the lives of the ‘vulnerable’ – a huge proportion of our community. Our Ned would’ve been included in this group, as are many other kids with cancer – who also live years in and out of isolation. Many, many, many people survive cancer and live great lives, contributing enormously to the world in innumerable ways, but regardless of contribution, no person matters less than another. Right now, one ultimate act of caring for the disadvantaged, the vulnerable, the suffering is to deny oneself, and try to fill gaps from afar for others.

Social/physical distancing is a proven public health preventative strategy during pandemics – particularly airborne ones. We, as the medical community, are VERY aware of the long-term implications of these measures, with regards to morbidity and mortality from other chronic diseases and poor mental health, loneliness and economical downturn. We know this will be a tough slog for so many, and are trying to think collectively of innovative ways that we can care for our individual patients and our communities. But right now, the imminent threat needs to be addressed with drastic measures. Remember Maslow’s hierarchy? Right now, if basic health is in threat, then our desires in seeking comforts seem excessive, no matter what our ‘rights’ may be.

Not one of the Ten Commandments instructs ‘seek comfort and put yourself first’. Rather we are told to seek God’s Kingdom, love others and put others first. What better way to use this uncannily eerie, disrupted period, while our freedoms are limited? It speaks to me deeply, because no matter what the last few years have held for us, this is still a jarring experience for many, and it is my daily endeavour and prayer - to be aware of and reach out to others in love. Yes, right now is hard, possibly lonely. I know many are enduring inordinate hardship, and my heart bleeds for those living in neglect or danger. But to those who can, I urge you likewise to look outwards – as well as caring for ourselves, love others by prioritising their vulnerabilities; as well as reflecting on our inconveniences, put others first by reaching out to them amidst their isolation and loneliness.

It is Good Friday. We can surely sit in some discomfort while we reflect on the greater sacrifice and act of love so long ago.

“For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.” John 3:16-17

Edward Isham