Christians, in practice, fully agree with secular and official Australia that our meeting together as Christians is not essential. We also seem to agree that making sure we can fix a broken gutter is essential.

Over the next few months, many of us will have a lot of more time on our hands. And it will be easy to be reactive rather than proactive. But how can we use this time to set habits for the long haul - to be prepare for rebuilding together after Coronavirus?

The Coronavirus pandemic is serious, but this season will bring lasting, positive change if we let it. We have a unique opportunity to rethink our practices, make the most of the technological possibilities and turn our attention to the hope of a better future.

Social distancing is key to ‘flattening the curve’ of the Coronavirus. How can we do this without neglecting our responsibility to love our neighbour, especially those who are alone or vulnerable? Here is the perspective of two medical professionals.

If ever we have seen that love and human connection are what really matter in life and should be prioritised over anything else, it is now. The Golden Rule - do unto others as you would have them do unto you - has never had more social relevance than it does today.

COVID-19 has stripped away our illusion of control to reveal the vulnerability that always lurks beneath, confronting us with the anxious realisation that we are frail and mortal. What does a gospel-shaped response of vulnerability and love, of abundance and generosity, look like in these extraordinary times?

In these difficult times, we must ‘call into question’ the present and see the potential of a new normal that will eventuate after this awful season is over. And we must hope for and act to make this new society a place that is for the flourishing of humanity.

Why do we listen to the voices of the other? Is it simply to increase knowledge or to better learn to love our neighbour? In learning about, from and with indigenous West Papuans, and engaging with their theologians, there are two things I have learned not to do.

Nostalgia can be harmless fun. But social nostalgia – the call for a return to a time when things were ‘simpler’ - can distort how we view the world, by idealising a time that never existed. While reminding us of our moral centre, it can impact our sense of justice and compassion, and even our vote.

The diversity of faces in the urban space invite us to marvel at the artistry and earthiness of the Creator. In every encounter I learn to pay attention and discover the beauty of God in the cities of man. I feel a joyful connection with, and surprising lessons from, the heavenly city to come.