“Stop the world, I want to get it off” is a popular quote adapted from a stage musical with the same name. It is true that sometimes when we are at the end of our tether we feel like ‘dropping out’ or hopping off the bus. But the world is spinning so much faster nowadays that there is hardly any time to jump.

Events are unfolding each day at an alarming rate. It’s now March, and before you know it, it will be Christmas.

The novel coronavirus is here, taking up all our time and attention, dominating the news, and determining our next move without giving us the time to stop and take stock of where we personally fit into this unfortunate chain of events. It has put us in a spin, but I believe that, as with other pandemics of the past, we will come out of this one, though battered and bruised.

I am the least equipped to make any kind of prediction, but the incredible amount of work, research, patience, dedication, and organisation exhibited by the World Health Organization, Jamaica’s Ministry of Health and Wellness and the indefatigable Minister Dr Christopher Tufton makes you feel that there is a ray of hope waiting to shine and provide some halt, some healing, some relief, from this inexplicable virus.

It seems to me that, with all due respect to his predecessors, Dr Tufton is the right man in the right place at the right time. He needs our prayers, even as we pray for those who are stricken, those families who have lost loved ones, those who are uncertain, and those who fear.

And these prayers are not for Jamaica alone. We share the grief and agony of those Chinese and Italians who have already racked up losses in their thousands. Each night we try to follow the pattern of connected dots that track the advance of this enemy around our world.

Schools are closing, doors are shutting, citizens quarantined, public gatherings frowned on, and roads less travelled, as the nation goes on hold.

But even as church congregations are disbanded, and scientists work feverishly to find solutions, the ray of hope shines brighter and brighter when thoughts and prayers are turned over to God.

To paraphrase Ted Byfield, the Canadian journalist who conceived the Christian History Series (Volume 1 of which I discovered on the SS Logos Hope at the Montego Bay pier recently), though it has become intellectually unfashionable of late to even think about it, let alone say it, the fact is that Jamaica is a Christian country. I would make a guess that nine out of every 10 Jamaicans have either been to a Christian church, or have been influenced by parents, mothers, grandmothers in particular, friends or family members who have been brought up in the church. And no matter how wicked and heartless today’s “shotta” appears to be, he will call on God’s name instinctively when the going gets tough or the situation turns on him.

“For what are our foundations?” asks Byfield.

“Our founding educational institutions, schools, our health system, our family values of love and care — no matter how loose or informal the structure — and our concept of individual rights and responsibilities have all come to us through Christianity.

“On the world stage, our best literature, our most enduring music, our finest cultural masterpieces, and many of the greatest paintings in every age are those of professed and dedicated Christians.

“Finally,” opines Byfield, “our concept of democracy came to us from the Greeks through Christianity. Is it by mere coincidence that all those nations [including Jamaica] that have best instituted and preserved democratic government emerged from Christian origins? I don’t think so.”

My own Christian grounding came from my mother’s prayer, which was taught to us on bended knees each night, the well versed “Jesus, tender Shepherd”. My father, a lay preacher in the Anglican Church, was a more cosmopolitan believer, who led his schoolchildren in morning prayers, lunchtime grace, and the 4 o’clock evening vespers: “Lighten our darkness, we beseech you, Oh Lord…”

But even during prayers he kept an eye open for any wanton behaviour among the boys in the back row and his ‘stay after class’ was a sombre invitation not to more prayers, but to a good two licks from the leather belt he kept folded on top of his desk for not closing their eyes during prayers. “How come him know” we would complain to each other in-between the licks.

As children of the village our further foundation came from Sunday School classes at the Congregational Church, where Miss Zada Webley, a teacher in her own right, marshalled Sunday School for several generations. So, for good or bad, every one of us children came up through the church well versed with unforgettable Bible stories that have stayed with many of us over the years.

At this time one such story, and the prayers that accompanied it, comes to mind. It is the story of the powerful Assyrian king, Sennacherib, who in the year 702 BC laid siege to Jerusalem only to see his powerful army turned back and destroyed in one calamitous manifestation overnight. The Assyrians had surrounded the city which, was regarded as the last stronghold, on their way to complete domination of Canaan territories. But inside the city walls the marooned King Hezekiah was urging his people to keep their faith in God and pray for delivery from the enemy.

“And Hezekiah himself prayed to the Lord: ‘Now, O Lord, our God, deliver us from his hand, so that all kingdoms on Earth may know that you alone, O Lord, are God.”

And that night the unexpected happened. Sennacherib broke off the attack at five minutes to 12.

Only something extraordinary could have induced him to stop the fighting. What might it have been? After all, the Jerusalem defenders were completely outnumbered by Assyria’s vicious army of some 185,000 men.

Well, the records retrieved from the great Assyrian Libraries in Nineveh do not say; indeed, it passes over this incident while gloating on the treasures they had captured from Jerusalem, and Sennacherib’s own boasts about what he had done to the king.

“And Hezekiah of Judah, who had not submitted to my yoke… him I shut up in Jerusalem his loyal city like a chased bird. His cities which I had plundered I cut off from his land.”

But while the Assyrian records about the incident are enveloped in a veil of silence, the Bible tells in no uncertain terms how, “It came to pass that night that the angel of the Lord went out and smote in the camp of the Assyrians a hundred fourscore and five thousand: and when they arose in the morning, behold, they were all dead corpses. So Sennacherib went away and returned to his city Nineveh.”

Well, as our own Dulcimina of radio fame used to say, “What a condition? What a predicament?”

The real story is that, with Jerusalem sure to capitulate that night, Hezekiah prayed to the Lord God of Israel, and the Lord answered the prayers in a full way.

It is a story which has been immortalised in world history, Bible history, English literature, and through the pen of the famous British poet Lord Tennyson. His famous poem has been a popular recitation at schools for many years. At elementary school it was used to teach alliteration.

“The Assyrians came down like the wolves on the fold,” wrote the poet, “And their cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold.”

Then comes the great word picture where you can almost see the spears shining in the moonlight.

“And the sheen of their spears were like stars on the sea,” repeated our teacher over and over again, “when the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.”

Throughout the Bible there are countless stories of how nations and people turned to God for help in times of trouble. Our own national anthem is one such prayer, “…keep us free from evil powers, be our light through countless hours..”

What is certain is that in this fight for our lives, the minister, the doctors, the thousands of health workers who have dedicated themselves to the task of fighting this enemy, and the World Health Organization doing such a magnificent job, cannot do it alone. The Church will step in and lead us in prayer to the Lord. We will cry out to Him and, as he did for Hezekiah in the past, He will hear us and answer our call.

Let us take the tests, cancel our crowd events, limit our social encounters, wash our hands, and heed all the advisories published for prevention and control of this monster in our land.

But, first and foremost, as Psalm 91 reminds, “If you say the Lord is my refuge, and you make the Most High your dwelling, no harm will overtake you, no disaster will come near your tent. For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways.” Take heart. And stay on the bus.

Lance Neita is a public relations consultant, historian, and Christian. Send comments to the Jamaica Observer or lanceneita@hotmail.com.