All of this to say that, yes, the whole swine flu mess can really get to me if I let it - and it's not all that hard to let it get to me. Just this morning I woke up to Vice President Joe Biden telling me that he has advised his family to avoid climbing aboard an airplane. Why? If just one carrier of the swine flu sneezes, the whole cabin will be filled with little droplets of death. Three seconds after those words left his mouth, I'm quite confident that three thousand people cancelled their flight for this weekend. I know what I thought: Hey! Wait a minute! I'm flying to Cleveland a week from Monday. Should I? I haven't been this jumpy since the whole bird flu thing. Oh - and SARS. Remember that one?

I realize that several things need to be confronted about my current state of mind - namely, my propensity to make an idol out of worry. But I've already dealt with that in another post. I would much rather confront myself about something else - namely, a love that seems to be awfully self-centered.

Whenever I have heard a breaking story about the swine flu - news that the World Health Organization has raised the alert level or the number of confirmed cases in the U.S. continues to climb - my first thoughts have always been about me, my wife, and the little baby that my wife and I are expecting. I then think about the health of my mom, my dad, my sister and brother-in-law, my two beautiful little nieces, my wife's family. This isn't a bad thing, of course. I would be alarmed if I wasn't concerned about the safety and welfare of my loved ones. What's bad, though, is that I don't always push myself to think beyond this small circle. I have to admit that I tend to hope those closest to me just hunker down and ride this thing out unscathed.

Nothing has confronted this reality about myself more than yesterday's heartbreaking news out of Texas. We heard about the first victim of the swine flu in the U.S. - a 23-month-old child. Devastating. It helped me finally get over just myself and those closest to me, leaving me to wonder: While the media coolly debates the urgency of this crisis - and we all (I) begin to freak out - what is being done for a young couple that is weeping over a life that was all too short? Has anyone spanned the 3?6 feet of "breathing space" to hold them close? Are we all too busy cancelling flights? Walking out of stores with breathing masks? Debating if we should shake the hand of a co-worker? Wondering if we should pull our kid from school, just to be safe? Studying the person just ahead of us in line who just sneezed?

What is especially sobering is that it shouldn't have taken yesterday's awful news to rattle me. The awful news of previous days should have. Long before we lost a little one in Texas, close to two hundred people died in Mexico. And so even more questions come: Is anyone even thinking about them? Praying for them? And what is our responsibility if such a far-reaching tragedy unfolds here? Here's the critical question: wherever this thing goes, will I choose extravagant love in a time of swine flu? And that's a question for you, too. That's a question for the church.

Let's say the worst-case scenario does happen - that millions are afflicted by this cruel virus and thousands perish. Are we ready to preach and then carry out a love that - yes, with appropriate safety measures - is willing to put a cool hand on a searing forehead (not pull back), willing to still gather for prayer and encouragement in places of worship and homes (not fall silent or worse, fling self-centered petitions toward God), willing to go calling (not stay home), willing to partner with hospitals in nursing those who are suffering back to health (not dismiss them as death marches into petri dishes), willing to mourn with those who mourn (not send an e-card), willing to offer Good News to those who are struggling to find a way forward (not hope that they figure it out on their own), willing to assure that this isn't some sort of new leprosy (not fall prey to some clean/unclean lunacy)?

The worst-case scenario hasn't happened, of course. We aren't even close. But as I've noted, I've seen a few signs as to how I might react if I'm not careful. I have noticed hints of a hunker-down mentality, rather than a "perfect love casts out all fear" mentality. I've identified it, repented of it, and will battle it. But I've also noticed a few hints of the same mentality in the church. Just yesterday in the Weekly Intersections, I ran a link to a story about how all of this already has some wanting to shut down Communion. The feeling to do so is especially strong among those who practice "common cup" Communion. I can see the point. I even think a few changes would be wise. But here's what I find a little disturbing: communion in general (little "c") is also being called into question. Visit most any news site that features an "Ask the Expert" segment - a feature that allows readers to ask questions of medical specialists about the flu outbreak - and you'll find at least one person asking if they should go to school or to the movies or to church. The experts agree that no one who is sick should go to such places. But you see, the ones asking the questions on these segments are already wondering if those who are healthy should go. A hunker-down mentality is spreading quicker than the flu itself - and among believers. And get this: on the radio this morning, I heard rumors of churches wrestling with whether or not they should take their cues from many school systems and close their doors for weekend services. The prevailing thought is that there is "danger" in the gathering - think of all those people, with all those germs, in one spot. What if someone doesn't wash their hands? Doesn't stay home when they're supposed to? Doesn't sneeze into their sleeve?

Just to be clear, I don't have a problem with clergy/churches taking extra precautionary steps in light of the outbreak. Common sense is common sense - and I would argue that operating according to common sense is, in fact, an act of love. The time might come for the church to shut down its gatherings for the safety of all in the community, out of love for all in the community. But the fact that some are already acting as if such extreme actions are necessary is a little troubling. Keep in mind that we don't shut down church gatherings because of general influenza, and each year it kills 36,000 in the U.S., hundreds of thousands worldwide. If we're this scared now - scared to the point of considering radical isolation - where will we be in a few weeks if things progress? Probably in bomb shelters (if we can afford to build them). If we're too scared to do church, we're certainly not going to be in good shape to be the church. What a shame! It might very well be that God would have us shut down our service. But not in an effort to stay safe; in an effort to boldly go out in love into the unsafe streets and hospitals!

Perhaps the idea of extravagant love in a time of swine flu is something that ought to sneak its way into our preaching this weekend. This doesn't look to be going away any time soon. I hope we will help one another realize that we shouldn't go away any time soon, either. In my post on the economy, I called on us to preach a reminder to our people that "a city on a hill should not be worried." For this post, I don't even need to offer a playful rendering of the text. In the midst of a nasty new-flu outbreak, "a city on a hill should not be hidden."

Brian Lowery is managing editor of PreachingToday.com.