Photo by Lucas Myers on Unsplash

Written by: David Hood

We did a post a while back about how our church is living as a family of missionary servants in these COVID times, namely, how we’re loving on and being faithfully present with our poorer and more vulnerable neighbours. We are pleased to share with you that our ministry amongst the urban poor continues. Since the pandemic started in March, someone from our church has delivered food every single week, sometimes twice a week, without fail to dozens of people experiencing food insecurity in our neighbourhood. This food delivery ministry has exploded and as a result, has needed to evolve. Now, we are no longer picking up food orders from the food bank to deliver them, but we are receiving food from the food bank and are preparing peoples’ orders ourselves and then delivering them. We have in essence become a distribution centre. Last week we prepared and handed out over 25 food orders. Our steadfast presence over the last eight months has solidified a trusting relationship with our local food bank and social workers, and for that we are grateful. We have been told that what our church is doing is truly unique in the city. We thank God we can keep doing this in a season where it is especially needed. 

Through this outreach, we have been exposed to many difficult realities. Food bank food is not the best quality food and there is certainly not enough of it. Food banks can often be inaccessible for those who need them, due to physical limitations, having to work during the day, or being a single parent/caregiver. Affordable housing is not plentiful enough in our city and the waiting list is years long. Many of our neighbours are in community housing not because of poor moral choices, but often because of tragic circumstances (Not that I believe that matters. A human being is a human being). While lockdowns were necessary initially to flatten the curve, and it is still good, necessary, and loving to be COVIDWise, the kind of isolation many of us have been practicing has been devastating for the poor, vulnerable, and marginalized.

A recent article I read from the CBC gave a pretty bleak account of the state of Canadians’ mental health since the pandemic started:

– In 2018, 68 percent of Canadians 15 years and older claimed to have good mental health. In late March, early April 2020, that figure went down to 54 percent, and then down to 48 percent in early May.

– Ontario saw the number of confirmed and probable deaths from opioid-related causes increase by almost 50 percent, from 148 deaths in January to 220 deaths in May. Contributing to that increase are the social restrictions that have many more people using opioids alone.

– Close to one in five Canadians (19 per cent) have increased their alcohol consumption, and cannabis consumption is up 8.3 per cent.

– Indigenous people, people living with disabilities, and low-income Canadians are experiencing more suicidal thoughts.

The article also stated that many Canadians feel isolated and are worried about the state of their friendships and familial relationships. Seventy per cent of Canadians…said they were concerned about maintaining social ties, while 54 percent of respondents with kids said they were very or extremely concerned about their children’s loneliness or social isolation.

Isolation isn’t just affecting peoples’ mental health. It has also put some people in increased physical danger. The article went on to explain that:

– Shelter-in-place restrictions have forced people to stay at home with abusive partners, and LGBTQ+ youth with abusive parents.

– Child welfare agencies are seeing a drop in abuse or neglect reports, but not necessarily because of an actual drop in abuse, but rather because fewer cases are being reported now that kids are home all day every day and no one is checking in.

Many are predicting a mental health tsunami in the coming months with more suicides, more attempted suicides, more overdoses, and more deaths, not from COVID but from COVID-related circumstances. This number will be greatest amongst the vulnerable, those made vulnerable because of addictions, mental illness, poverty, disability, age, trauma, among other things, and these are our neighbours that we’re delivering food to: isolated seniors, people fleeing domestic abuse, people currently experiencing domestic abuse, active users, people in recovery, people with schizophrenia, bipolar, anxiety, depression, people struggling to make ends meet, etc…

This is more the reason why we’re doing what we’re doing, and why we’re praying hard about what else we can do. We don’t just want to combat food insecurity and meet material needs. We want to combat loneliness and meet relational needs. We want to create spaces in the week where the isolation is broken, and face-to-face, flesh and blood connection and community happens; where we’re able to check in with our neighbours and not just ask them “how are you?” but be able to see how they’re doing; where we’re able to offer people a moment to talk, to unburden, to laugh, to vent, to cry, to express themselves, to be listened to, sympathized with, valued, prayed for, to share that they’re in danger from themselves or others and need help. I really hope these moments will keep many of our neighbours from giving up. From losing hope. From devaluing their lives. From dying, either from loneliness, an overdose, or suicide.

We were made for connection. Isolation is hell. As a church, we want to war against isolation this winter. War against our own isolation, and the isolation of others.