WITH the planned ending of self-isolation restrictions, there’s a lot of talk about returning to normality. For some, it feels like the nightmare is finally over and normal life is returning. For others, the security of restrictions being removed feels like a nightmare is just beginning again. Which camp you fall into probably depends on a lot of complex factors including age and health, but also an estimate of how the story will play out. For some, restrictions are what is keeping us from a plunge back into an abyss, whereas for others, restrictions themselves are the enemy.

For followers of Jesus, neither of these narratives really work. We understand that the story of God is a story of freedom and promise, but also a story of trust in hard times. God is a giver of life and a sustainer for eternity. Jesus talks of freedom, but also of peace and comfort. He talks of truth and life, but also submits himself to lies, false accusations and death. He demonstrates ultimate freedom in throwing off the clutches of death and decay, but asks his followers to take up their cross and follow him even though that might mean martyrdom.

There’s clearly more going on than simple narratives of freedom versus restriction. The Christian story is bigger, richer and more complex.

I was struck by something I heard recently about the disproportionately high mortality rate for priests during the Black Death, simply because they gave last rites to people when they were most infectious at the end of their lives. In doing so, they made an unconscious statement that there was more to life than avoidance of disease (as important as I’m sure that must have been to them!) It surely wasn’t empty words marking a rite of passage that drove them to be close contacts with the dying.

It was an understanding that as followers of Jesus, there is more at stake. The narrative is bigger. It encompasses life, death, disease, freedom, happiness and struggle, enchanting all these things with the story of heaven. From that angle, freedom’s colours become more vivid and suffering’s darkness is pierced with light. Even death’s despair is meaningful.

Plague priests knew what we need to remember. They were free even as they died, following their Lord. They were peaceful in the danger, knowing their Master. Their narratives were not limited to simple options but were filled with the story of heaven. May our lives be similarly enriched. As restrictions are relaxed, may our ‘normal’ be the story of God, demonstrated to us in the person of Jesus who laid his own life aside on our behalf.