How many of your Covid-19 resolutions have survived?
In the early months of 2020, people were still given to considering the positive outcomes of the pandemic. Lockdowns across Australia had thrown us back on ourselves in ways our hurried and harried generation had not experienced before.
Without the need to travel to work, we found time to invest in ourselves. People were learning to cook again, to entertain themselves with books and craft projects. When my local gym closed, I purchased a set of dumbbells and worked out a routine my friends and I could share online. Everywhere, everyone was talking about a renaissance of human flourishing in the threatening shadow of an international outbreak. But how much of that renaissance persists in 2025?
Probably the most obvious professional change has been a new flexibility in the way we work. Covid-19 proved that many of our jobs could be carried out just as efficiently at home as they might be in an office block. At the other end of the spectrum, though, I’ll be the first to admit that many personal habits have foundered. For example, my family—one among many—rediscovered the bicycle and took long rides in the local park. However, those once-shiny machines are now gathering dust in our carport, as are my aforementioned dumbbells.
But there is at least one individual outcome that has persisted. Every person who passed through the Covid-19 pandemic can easily imagine that it could happen again.
Who will ever look at the toilet paper aisle in our grocery store the same way again? I used to be satisfied with buying eight rolls at a time. Now I buy bales of 24 from Costco. I also ensure we have more than one bottle of disinfectant in the laundry. Our medical kit includes rapid antigen tests, right next to the handwash. And I’ll even admit to a box of three-ply face masks hidden away in an upper cupboard. It’s been said that the generation that passed through the Great Depression could never abide the waste of food. I’d suggest the survivors of the Covid-19 pandemic will never be able to ignore international health warnings. Or pandemic films, for that matter.
life imitates art
This June will see the release of the film 28 Years Later, the third instalment in a pandemic trilogy kicked off by celebrated English director Danny Boyle. In the original film, 28 Days Later, animal activists inadvertently release an experimental virus from a Cambridge laboratory. The “rage” strain rapidly infected the United Kingdom, turning large swathes of the population into homicidal maniacs. The story followed a small group of survivors who risked all manner of threats from the infected and uninfected alike and eventually holed up in a remote cottage to await rescue. The film was such a success that it was credited with reinvigorating the zombie film genre, paving the way for subsequent hits like The Walking Dead and I Am Legend. Its profits were certainly grounds enough to greenlight two sequels.
In 28 Months Later, we see the world’s response to the British pandemic. After a long quarantine, the US military spearheads a move to re-settle ruined London. What follows is a series of very human decisions that break the quarantine at several points, leading to the collapse of the new safe zone. The ultimate result is the spread of the contagion across the English Channel to France and presumably the rest of Europe. When the story picks up this June, it will reveal a world that has adapted to life with the rage virus.
In 28 Years Later, we are introduced to a small community on the tidal island of Lindisfarne that is carefully eking out an existence on the edge of a dark world. When a father and son venture into the heart of England to accomplish an urgent mission, they discover that humanity has adapted to the reality of the virus in chilling ways. The predicted success of this sequel—hailed by The Guardian as the most anticipated film of 2025—is poised to set box offices aflame. As I said, our communal experience of Covid-19 has made us quite open to such storylines. But 28 Years Later is also likely to reinvigorate an older argument for questioning the nature, even the existence of God.
history doesn’t repeat—but it does rhyme
Covid-19 is not the first time we have seen an all-conquering virus reshape the world. In the 14th century, the Black Death resulted in the deaths of as many as 50 million people, approximately half of the population of Europe. The early 20th century’s Spanish Flu infected more than 500 million people, with fatalities numbering anywhere from 17 to 50 million. The AIDS pandemic began in 1981 and has continued to be a worldwide public health issue for 44 years. Of the more than 71 million confirmed cases, more than 42 million have ended in death.
In the 14th century, the Black Death resulted in the deaths of as many as 50 million people . . . The Spanish Flu infected more than 500 million people [and] the AIDS pandemic [caused] more than 71 million confirmed cases, [with] more than 42 million have ended in death
In each case, the world has been troubled by significant religious upheaval. Critics of Christianity have pointed to the widespread horrors and questioned the idea of an all-wise hand guiding the history of the world. And that’s not to mention the fatal fires and landslides, wars and tsunamis that have also contributed to this argument. In short, in the face of such overwhelming suffering, how could Christians maintain belief in the existence of a good God?
the paradox of pain
A person of faith should never tackle a question like this lightly. Behind every statistic is a story of unique suffering that has often rippled out to touch many lives besides. But such arguments rest on the premise that God would not allow things like pandemics to occur. In essence, the argument runs that a good, all-powerful God would guarantee a pain-free world. However, since the world is manifestly full of pain, there can be no good God—or at least, not one powerful enough to do us any good. Yet the certainty that fills such a statement is founded on a logical fallacy. The assumption the divine critic makes is that there can be no such thing as good suffering. Yet even the smallest experience of everyday life tells us otherwise.
We can easily imagine with our moderate intellects reasons for allowing moderate pain to exist. We take ourselves to the gym and push muscles to their extreme because we want to stimulate growth. We submit to a wide range of medical procedures, from dentistry to radiation therapy, in pursuit of greater health. We discipline our children, causing them suffering for a time for their personal good and we submit lawbreakers to state-sanctioned suffering for the good of society. Now, if we, with our moderate intellects, can conceive of good reasons to inflict moderate pain, then it is reasonable to assume that God, with His superior understanding, can possess reasons to allow greater pain—pains that might seem bereft of meaning from our limited perspective.
That’s not to say that “God knows better, so you should just grin and bear it”. The Bible goes to great length to assure us that God both knows our pains and suffers with us. Psalm 56:8 says, “You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your record?”
God both comprehends and keeps a record of the seemingly inexplicable anguish that invades our lives. Moreso, He has taken steps to end it.
God is not interested in half measures. When He set His sights on solving the problem of pain, He did not stop with a single war or a virus. He took aim at the sin that has warped human experience since the first person said “No!” to His rule. He took on all those rebellions in the person of Jesus and suffered for them on the Cross so that a door could be opened on a world that would know neither pain nor death.
28 Years Later may present us with a picture of a world torn apart by senseless suffering. But the person who denies the existence of God because there is pain in the world is no better off for doing so. They remain alone in their suffering. Apologetic observations might give us some glimpse into the workings of the universe but, honestly, they equally fall short on consolation. The only sure comfort is to be found in the character of God. He has shown Himself to be for us. He not only knows us, but knows our pain, suffers with us and has promised to one day “wipe every tear” from our eyes. He will by no means abandon those who come to Him.
