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Beep beep. Beep beep. Beep beep. 

The shrill alarm seemed to blare, sounding in the silence of the early morning and jolting Mal from his deep, dreamless slumber. He stirred as the persistent buzzing swelled increasingly louder, opening his eyes and gazing at the shadowed ceiling. It felt as if he had only just rested his head against the plush pillow and closed his eyes, but in truth hours had gone by, hours of blissful oblivion.

With a quiet sigh, Mal rolled over and reached over to silence his alarm; 4:30 am flashed across the digital clock screen in red. For a scarce minute he contemplated going back to sleep but ultimately decided against it. Why put off the inevitable?

Mal rose from the bed and tiptoed out of his room, careful not to disturb his slumbering partner, Kendal. Bleary-eyed, he mechanically ran through his morning stretches and exercises while the lounge room television played softly in the darkness, the flashing lights from the screen the only source of light. Outside the window, all was dark, except for the wan glow of the flickering street lamps and the faint twinkling of the stars shrouded by stormy-grey clouds. 

Half an hour later, wide awake and finished with his exercises, Mal showered and got dressed. He padded downstairs to prepare the day’s lunches, preparing plenty of snacks for morning and afternoon tea, that is if they had time for that luxury, Mal mused to himself, as he turned on the coffee machine, an essential part to his morning routine. 

With their lunches packed, and coffee ready, Mal carried two steaming mugs of the glorious liquid upstairs to his partner, inhaling the bittersweet scent as he went. He and Kendal had been together for many years; they were practically married and ran his shopfitting business together. Mal couldn’t have asked for a better partner to share his life and work with. Lately he’d been thinking of proposing, to formalise things, but had been of two minds. He’d been married once and it had ended in heartbreak. Was it necessary for things to change at their age? They were in their early fifties, after all.  

By 6am that morning, the truck was packed and Mal and Kendal were ready to start the day. They climbed onto the old, tattered seats, and Mal started the engine.  It roared to life, shuddering a little before decreasing to a low purr as Mal guided it from the driveway. It was a rickety old truck but had served them and their business well. 

Their first stop for the day was their supplier, Premier Furniture, located in St Peters, an inner suburb of Sydney. From Premier, with a truck near-packed to the brim, they headed into the Illawarra region where they were to assemble the refurbished interior of the staffroom at Flinders Public School.

Mal stared around the room, eyeing the pristine walls and the newly crafted cabinets they were supposed to assemble. He and Kendal had just measured the cabinets—as they often did before assembling—to discover that they were the wrong measurements. 

“We’ll have to adjust,” Mal said to Kendal, unconcerned. It may be a setback, but it was a minor one. He took pride in his work ethic and reputation, and he wasn’t going to let a slight miscalculation prevent him from delivering his best quality work. “We best get to it if we are to make it to Cherrybrook High this afternoon, we’ll need to drop the truck off at home on our way.”

Rain drummed against the truck windows, the windscreen wipers working on overdrive as Mal carefully guided the car down the bustling highway, tapping the steering wheel as he alertly watched the traffic around them. He hated traffic, much like anyone else, and the rain, while soothing to listen, to wasn’t helping. They were already behind schedule; they still had Cherrybrook High to visit and what seemed an unending pile of paperwork waiting on their desk at home. As it was, Saturday was already going to be spent overburdened with paperwork. He did not want Sunday to be too. 

Several impatient car horns rent the air and Mal refrained from rolling his eyes. There was little anyone could do with the current traffic. What use was honking their horns, except to be an unsettling annoyance? 

Kendal reached over and clasped his free hand reassuringly. “We’re almost through the worst of it,” she assured him. Glancing far ahead, Mal surveyed the congestion around the traffic lights. Kendal was right, once they reached the lights, he observed, their journey would steadily become smooth sailing.

Ahead, the traffic lights flashed green and Mal breathed a relieved sigh. They were no longer stuck at a standstill. He only hoped that they’d be able to make it through the intersection before the lights transitioned back to red.

“No, don’t slow down, we can all make it through,” Mal cried out, openly frustrated, raising one hand in exasperation. Yet again, they were stuck at the lights. “We could have made it!”

“Oh well, we’re a lot closer than we were,” Kendal replied soothingly with a gentle smile, always the optimist. She reached over and stroked the back of his head, running her fingers across his neck and massaging the tension. Despite his frustration, her words, her voice alone, calmed him; her gentle touch eased a fair bit of his tension. Not for the first time, Mal reflected on how grateful he was to have her.

Finally, the traffic lights switched from red to green and Mal was able to slowly ease the car into the intersection, readying to turn. 

It happened within a heartbeat. Tires screeched; car horns blared shrilly. Mal slammed on the brakes, holding out his arm to protect Kendal from the collision, as a truck skidded and slammed into the car before them at an angle. 

Mal could only watch as chaos ensued, powerless to do a thing as the chain reaction of the initial crash unfolded. The impact had sent the car before them careening into the front of their station wagon. 

Glass shattered, showering them in minute but sharp glistening shards. Kendal screamed while Mal cursed, gripping the steering wheel tightly as they were jerked back violently. Rain poured through the broken windscreen in thick sheets. The station wagon was pinioned between two cars and the truck was leaning dangerously towards them. It could tip over completely at any moment, and they and the car before them would be crushed by its unstable bulk. 

“Ted! Ted! Can you hear me? We have to move. TED!” His voice rose in fear when she didn’t respond. Fearfully, he glanced to the side, cringing as pain lanced through his neck. “Kendal?”

She was conscious but dazed and blood gushed from a wound on her forehead. She must have slammed her head against the window when the cars had collided. 

Pushing passed his own pain, Mal tore off his seatbelt and reached over to unbuckle hers all the while keeping a close eye on the truck. “Come on Ted, we have to get out.” He unbuckled her seatbelt and breathed a relieved sigh when she worked up enough strength to open the door and slowly slid across her seat. 

Mal forced open his door with a strained heave and climbed out with a groan of pain. Frenzied shouts rent the air around him. He tuned them out, focused only on Kendal and the precariously perched truck. They were not out of the woods yet. Mal took a step and stumbled, falling against the side of his car, pain lancing up his right leg. 

With a loud moan, the truck and all its weight crumbled, casting Mal in its shadow. 

Kendal, no! was all Mal could think before impact. He was thrown to the ground, collapsing against the uncompromising road, a searing pain shooting through him before he descended into unconsciousness. 

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. 

The unyielding sound echoed in Mal’s ears. It had been going on for some time, and he’d managed to do his best to tune it out in the moments since he’d slipped back into consciousness. But his tolerance was beginning to wear thin. He slowly forced his eyes open. Where was he?

The memories of the accident came pouring back, and he sat bolt upright with a shout as pain all over his body flared. 

“Kendal,” he breathed worriedly, glancing about the room. 

A nurse in blue scrubs wandered into the room, taking in his upright position in surprise. “We weren’t expecting you to wake so soon—”

“My partner, Kendal, where is she?” Mal interrupted hastily. 

The nurse’s smile faded. “She wasn’t in a good condition when you were brought in.”

Mal gripped the bedsheets tightly, his heartbeat faltering. 

“It was touch and go for a while,” the nurse continued. Mal dreaded what she was going to say next. “But she will recover.”

Mal released the breath he’d been withholding and unclenched his fists.

“Can I see her?” 

“I’ll need to check your vitals and all that,” the nurse answered, “Then I will take you to her.”

Several minutes later, the nurse guided Mal down the corridor. He limped beside her, a persistent ache coursing up his legs, but he did his best to ignore it. 

Kendal was conscious when they stepped into her room in intensive care, her back propped against a cushion. 

“Mal,” she said faintly as he limped to her side, collapsed on the bed and held her hands up to his lips. 

“Ted, are you ok?” He brushed a stray lock of her dark brown hair out of her face and cupped her cheek, gazing into her eyes. 

Kendal nodded, though Mal could clearly see pain in her eyes.   

“I thought I’d lost you,” he said, his voice breaking a little. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Kendal whispered. 

“Good, because I want to marry you,” Mal replied. 

Kendal’s eyes widened and Mal smiled. He’d been wanting to ask for some time, but with the business taking all their time he’d held off and he mentally kicked himself for doing so. After the terrifying events of the day, he did not want to wait a moment later. 

“Kendal Alaine, will you marry me?” 

A smile broke across Kendal’s weary and partially bandaged face, and she pulled herself up, wrapping her arms around him. “Yes,” she said before brushing her lips against his. “Yes, I will.”

A lonely building amidst a busy road. A newly furbished playground and a thriving garden draw the eye. The doors are locked and the carpark empty. All signs suggest this old building, the home of Port Kembla Baptist Church, has been shut down. This building that often flourishes with weekly activities, this place of worship closed. But is it really? 

“The physical building may be closed, but the church is the people,” Barry Stewart, deacon and treasurer of the church declares in the latest newsletter. He could not have put it better. Worldwide churches were forced to close their buildings in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, but the church goes on. During this time, churches have discovered new ways of doing things, adapting their services into a wide-spread virtual environment. In this, some have thrived while others have struggled. 

Port Kembla Baptist Church (PKBC), Corrimal Community Church (CCC) and Wollongong Baptist Church (WBC) are three churches of Wollongong, New South Wales that rose to the occasion during these unprecedented times.

From live streaming and weekly recordings for a DVD to Zoom meetings and virtual morning teas (as can be seen on the WBC, PKBC and CCC websites), technology has become a crutch to sustain the church throughout these trying times. It became a ray of hope to light the way forward. But it is not without its challenges. 

“This type of church has created a new way of connecting, and the church has done its best to get their services up and running each week, but there will always be a gap between people and a screen,” Annie Thorn, a member of WBC, says during a home group discussion. This is a barrier that many throughout the churches have felt. Luke Thorn, another member of WBC, explains in that same discussion that, “The communication and care that would take place when meeting in person is somewhat lost when meeting in an online setting.” Deacon of PKBC Karen Stewart reported that a number of the church’s congregation felt a deep sense of isolation, and while many churches had transitioned well into using technology, she had to wonder what happens for the older attendees. 

“It was a bit of a rocky start,” Michael, another deacon of PKBC, explains shortly before recording that week’s church service. For PKBC as a church predominantly made up of the elderly, the transition to virtual church was a challenge. From members who did not have access to internet or virtual platforms to a loss of fellowship and inexperience with digital recording and the like, the early transition was a winding road.

“We have adapted the best we can do for the people we have,” Karen explains. Overall, she believes, it adapted well. It is a belief shared by the other deacons. Michel says, “It created a lot of opportunities that we’re going to learn a lot from, and when we do get back together, we’ll be doing quite a few things differently,” 

Corrimal Community Church also has a high portion of the elderly in their congregation and were faced with similar issues. Just as PKBC persevered through lockdown, so too did CCC. 

“We will remain the calm amidst any storm that happens. We will be responsible; we will do what’s required of us. We will do it ethically, we will do it above and beyond if that’s at all possible for us,” Graeme Hush, the church leader of CCC passionately says regarding his frame of mind going into lockdown. “Our desire was to continue to forge an identity as a group of believers.” He goes on to describe how every step taken was guided by the notion of how to look more like Jesus and heaven on Earth. 

“Our decision from the very beginning was to be raw, be authentic, be as we would be when people engage us in a normal way as much as possible,” Graeme explains. He describes things as a work it out as they go scenario. 

For such a challenging and tumultuous time, it cannot be denied that some good arose. Annie Thorn could not have summed it up better; “There are different ways of fellowship and I feel like a lot of these paths have been opened and adapted during lockdown.” During the same home group discussion, Sam Visgoft adds that it, “Enabled people to connect across distances more readily”.

“I think it’s been good for the church,” Gary Dronfield, a minister for Uniting Churches, explains. “It sort-of forced us to do something that a lot of churches that are older didn’t/don’t want to look at,” he continues, referring to virtual platforms like YouTube and social media. “It actually pushed us to a point where we had to do something else. I think it’s also brought out people’s gifts and talents that were not utilized until now.” It is the younger ones with technical skills that had perhaps previously been in the background that can now contribute in larger ways. Gary believes that it is, “Important to open up to these new ventures.” 

With this new way of doing things and the potential that has arisen, the question arises of what our reality will look like in a post COVID-19 world. It is the belief of many that things will go back to the way they were, but it cannot be disputed that those ways will be altered somewhat. Maintaining virtual services in normal times does add an additional workload to many who already have a lot to manage. Peter Schachtel mentions during the homegroup discussion, the notion of ‘Zoom fatigue’ and how people got tired of meeting online. As a larger church, WBC has better access to equipment and a bigger array of people to run the virtual side of things. But what about the smaller churches? CCC is a church mostly run by volunteers. Graeme says, “The favor we have received from our close neighbours” and generous donations as the foundation for everything they were able to put into place. For PKBC, while they had equipment, they had few that could share the load of recording and editing the video of the weekly service each week. On the other side of the situation, a lot of the congregation did feel a lack of fellowship.

“I think there needs to be fellowship and togetherness,” Karen explains. Virtually that can be experienced to a certain degree but for some it’s not necessarily the same. Peter Schachtel and Luke and Annie Thorn each felt that there was a definite loss of connection adapting to a virtual environment. 

Moving forward a balance must be found. But this new platform of doing things must not be forsaken. It is an important platform, and it has reached many. 

“Our video statistics averages sixty people watching it over the course of the week, and that is two thirds more than our church is capable of seeing it in that way,” Karen reports. While she believes that this rise of viewers is highly likely due more to people who know people as opposed to new people, it cannot be disputed that more people have been reached. 

Technology gives rise to a new means to reaching people, COVID-19 has shown us this. “For us it has helped us confirm for our people that there is more to church than Sunday mornings,” Graeme says. He continues to explain that it is not the physical room but doing what we can to connect, to bless, serve and prayer for each other that makes the difference.

Nothing could embody this new way of connecting better than the YouTube video ‘The Blessing/Aotearoa’ where churches across New Zealand came together to sing virtually. This is but one example of many inspiring tales. It is a beautiful experience that symbolizes unity in unprecedented times. Not only this, it shows us that the church cannot be shut down. Our buildings may be closed and our way of doing things changed, but the love of our God and His spirit within us enables us as his church to withstand the storm regardless of the changes wrought by COVID-19. John 1:5 says, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it”. God is the light, and as God lives in us so too does his unyielding light shine through us. The building is simply the place for us to gather, it is the people—as Barry highlights in the PKBC newsletter—that are the true church.