True Christianity offers you something different than the world does, but true Christianity will cost you. And there will be consequences. What you saw from most of the professing church was a fearful and cowardly display of the fear of man and the love of this world. 

DC Talk’s 1995 hit “What If I Stumble?” starts with someone reading these lines: “The greatest single cause of atheism in the world today is Christians who acknowledge Jesus with their lips, then walk out the door and deny Him by their lifestyle. That is what an unbelieving world simply finds unbelievable.” Like it or not, true Christians have to deal with the consequences of the professing church. Many unbelievers look at the professing church’s lack of faithfulness and conclude that such is what true Christianity is.
As such, for many a true follower of Jesus, the response of the professing evangelical and even Reformed church during the coronavirus has been one of the most discouraging and disheartening parts of this whole year. Dealing with government overreach, media-induced fear, and hysteria without end would have been bad enough. But the one place where Christians should have been able to find refuge was in the church. There, believers should have found a different spirit—a spirit of faith and trust and courage. A spirit of freedom and peace. Believers should have been able to point to the church—the called out ones—and said to a watching world, “Behold, there is something otherworldly, something different from the world.” Sadly, that wasn’t the case for most churches. Uncertainty, fear, cancellations of fellowship, mask requirements, and social distance regulations thrived in the church just as much as in the world.
I’ve entitled this “A COVID Apology to America, on Behalf of the Evangelical Church.” This is what I believe the professing evangelical and Reformed church should say to America. And, of course, she should not only say it, but change course accordingly.
The Apology (7 parts):
America, we’re sorry. We had a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to show you how different Christianity is from the world. And we failed.
Years ago, Leonard Ravenhill said, “The world out there is not waiting for a new definition of Christianity; it’s waiting for a new demonstration of Christianity.” The COVID debacle of 2020-2021 was the perfect opportunity for us to give you that new demonstration of Christianity. We could have shown you what it means to live a life free from fear. We could have shown you what it means to value spiritual things more than material things. We could have shown you that Christians are different. Instead, most evangelical churches acted just like the world. Our profession of faith made little difference in our lives. Our churches closed their doors just like the Lion’s Club and community BINGO night. It’s too late for us now to change how we responded. But the least we can do is say that we’re sorry.
We’re sorry we contradicted so much of what we had told you previously.
Prior to the coronavirus, we told you that it was vital for Christians to gather together and fellowship. We preached about passages such as Hebrews 10:25: “not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.” We told you about Christians throughout church history who were willing to meet despite the dangers of persecution, oppression, and even death. We held these men and women up as examples of faithfulness. And then, when the coronavirus struck us, we scattered like sheep without a shepherd. Forgive us.
Prior to the coronavirus we told you that living for Christ was worth more than anything this world could offer, including safety, health, and prosperity. We told you about Christians—going all the way back to the apostles—who truly understood the gospel and were willing to give up everything to follow Jesus. We told you about the missionaries and housewives, preachers and plowboys, who were willing to die if they could only read the Scripture. We told you that obedience to Christ was not an optional part of discipleship, but the very essence of following Jesus. And then, when it was going to cost us something to stand for Jesus and stand against the world, we crumbled like a house of cards. Forgive us.
We’re sorry we perverted the glorious and beautiful blessing of Christian fellowship.
We neglected fellowship. For some of us, it didn’t even take one week for us to cancel fellowship. We dressed it up with a lot of explanations and qualifications, but the bottom line is that we told everyone to stop meeting together as a church body. We did not accurately demonstrate the doctrine of Christian fellowship. We made Christianity to look no different than a social club or sports league, willing to cancel gatherings on the word of a pagan tyrant.
But even worse than abandoning Christian fellowship, we perverted fellowship. We encouraged you to think that Christians view “online” events as gatherings, fellowship, or services. This is all a gross perversion of what God intended for the church. We know that none of these things are fellowship, but we continued to act as if they were. To our shame, when we finally found some courage to meet (or, if we’re honest, when the state allowed us to meet), we continued to enforce mask and distancing mandates. We showed that we really don’t care if true fellowship occurs—where believers can interact with one another, see each other’s faces, and act as family—we really only cared about continuing to present a façade of Christianity. We did have good motives and intentions. But the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Truth be told, we caved to the pressure. Our actions are a stain upon the true church’s testimony concerning the doctrine of Christian fellowship.
We’re sorry we conformed to the world.
Christians are supposed to look different from the world. The fear that characterizes so much of our world, amplified to the extreme during the coronavirus, is unbecoming for a true Christian church. We know that we have been charged to not be conformed to this world (or “age,” see Romans 12:2). However, we found the temptation too strong and the potential cost too high for us to have our minds transformed during the coronavirus. Instead of standing as a city upon a hill as a light for a lost, confused, and scared world, we acted just like everyone else. Just like the pagans in the plagues of the second and third century, we encouraged you to stay away from others.
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Nothing we do is done by our own power. God gave us the Sabbath to show us he is our provider. And, as Charles Spurgeon said, “God gave us sleep to remind us we are not him.” Before you drift into unconsciousness tonight, be conscious that rest is more important than doing one last thing, that God is your sustainer, and that he is trustworthy.

Honoring the Sabbath is an easy commandment to break. We diminish it to the hour or two we’re at church on Sunday morning and an afternoon nap. We justify ourselves by saying a 24-hour Sabbath is part of the old covenant and unrealistic in modern times. Taking a day off feels lazy, but that’s because we practice it wrong. If we were to rest in line with God’s created purpose, we would see it as a gift he made specifically for us (Mk. 2:27).
One-Seventh
Despite the fact that God commanded us to honor the Sabbath should be persuasion enough, there are a few notable reasons practicing Sabbath is good for us:

We reflect God’s image by remembering that he, too, rested on the seventh day of creation.
Sabbath rejuvenates us and our work.
Most of all, Sabbath reminds us that we are not our own providers.

In modern times, the idea of Sabbath—that is, abstaining from what we consider our job—seems foreign, but it would have seemed just as strange to the Israelites. When the Israelites wandered in the desert, God sent enough manna and quail to feed them each day; they literally had to go out and pick up their daily bread. On Fridays, he sent a double portion to feed them on Sabbath, too. In this, he showed himself to be trustworthy to give them what they needed, even on days they didn’t work for it. We have the same God and thus the same confidence.
Even when we aren’t doing something to justify our paycheck, God is our provider. Six days of productivity is well sufficient to cover our expenses on the seventh day—that was God’s design. In fact, God’s design includes a reminder that we trust God with a portion of our lives each day, whether we realize it or not.
One-Third
Like the Sabbath, to exalt our nightly rest above busyness is counter-cultural.
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 Even if you or I genuinely love God and delight in him, which of us can put our hand on our heart and say that we do this perfectly? Which of us does not have times—sadly, many times—when what consumes our hopes and affections is not God but some blessing we hope God will give us? A job. A wife. A child. A healthy body. Or whatever it may be. And yet the moment I fall short of perfect delight in the Lord I disqualify myself from the promise that God will give me the desires of my heart.

Delight yourself in the LORD,and he will give you the desires of your heart. —Psalm 37:4
The Heart’s Desires
Doesn’t that sound terrific? Anything I want, and it will be mine! Until I think a little harder.
Suppose my heart desires for my boss to be sick or die. Will God give me that?
Suppose my heart desires, by some deceit, to get the credit for something I didn’t do. Will God give me that?
Suppose my heart desires my neighbor’s pretty wife. Will God give me her?
Of course not, for these break three of the ten commandments. Of course God will not give me things that are morally wrong.
But what about morally neutral things?
Suppose I really want a particular job. It’s a good job, a worthwhile job, and a job for which I feel I am equipped. Will God give me that?
Suppose I hope to date a particular person and hope I might marry them. This person is a believer. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t do this. Will God grant me this?
Suppose my spouse and I hope to have children. Will God bless us like that?
Suppose I long to be healed of some disease. Will God give me that?
The answer to all those questions is maybe. He might or he might not. But, someone objects, this verse tells me that God will give me the desires of my heart. May I not claim this as a promise? Why not?
Who Is “You?”
The big question is this: Who is “you” in this verse? To whom is this promise spoken?
The key to the second line is the first line. “You” is the man or woman who delights in the Lord, the covenant God, the God revealed to us in all the Scriptures. Here is a person who loves God with heart, mind, soul, and strength. One whose only desire and delight is the Triune God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. One who loves not primarily the blessings that God may give but God himself. Who longs for God’s glory, for God’s kingdom, for God to be praised and honored.
We may paraphrase the verse like this: If you delight yourself in the covenant Lord, if you love him, if you want above all else to know him and see his kingdom, if this expresses the deepest desire of your heart, then you may be sure that God will give you what you want. Do you want God? You will have God. Do you delight in God? You will enjoy God.
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