I’m going to make a confession. My hope is that you will not see this confession as a sign of weakness, but instead as something that opens up an opportunity for change, like God helps us to see it. Before I make the confession, though, I want to tell a brief story. My friend and I were driving home one day, when I asked him what he thought was the worse type of pain: physical pain or emotional pain. Without hesitating, he answered that it was emotional pain. I think I agree with him. I’ve hurt myself pretty badly before, but there have been few times in my life that I have felt more helpless than when I have felt alone.
I’m not alone in this. Some of the most brilliant minds in history have despaired at the deep isolation they have felt. Vincent Van Gogh observed that “One may have a blazing hearth in one’s soul, and yet no one ever comes to sit by it;” Thomas Wolfe lamented that “the whole conviction of my life now rests upon the belief that loneliness...is the central and inevitable fact of human existence;” Einstein complained that “It is strange to be known so universally and yet to be so lonely;” and Maya Angelou said that “music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness.” Finally, John records that Jesus “came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him” (John 1:11). So this feeling of loneliness, what existentialists would call the human condition, is universal. No one is exempt from its pain; and yet there is an irony to loneliness. It’s not always a bad thing.
When do you think loneliness might be helpful to us?
Sometimes, loneliness gives us the courage to change something in our lives for the better. It also encourages us to appreciate the relationships we do have. That said, no one wants to be lonely; and yet, we sometimes sabotage ourselves: we isolate ourselves on purpose. This is tragic. What force could so drive us to remove from ourselves the very life that God intended for us to have? What pain could be so great as to compel us to avoid those whom God intends to use for our healing? This tendency in us, whatever it is, must be strong, because the strongest consequence we feel in loneliness is that it begins to strip us of our identity. I’m convinced that spending time with others serves to magnify our character traits. You’ll learn far more about yourself when you’re with others than if you spend most of your time alone. This can be a good thing, but it may not always be.
I want to end with a story. There’s a scene in the second Incredible Hulk movie where Hulk is being attacked by the army, who’s trying to capture him so they can use his blood to build superhumans like him. At one point, they bring out these two vehicles that emit incredibly loud sound. When they turn them on the Hulk, the intensity of the sound incapacitates him; he’s driven to the ground, and can’t move. After a short time, he is able to glance over and see the girl he loves standing at a distance. Just the sight of her gives him enough strength to pick himself up and grab two car doors to use as shields to the sound. He then ends up destroying the vehicles and getting away. How ironic, that someone with such incredible strength is able to fight his enemies only when he draws on the strength of someone much weaker than himself. How much less can we expect to thrive in this world, and in our faith, without important friendships? I don’t think we can.
I’m not alone in this. Some of the most brilliant minds in history have despaired at the deep isolation they have felt. Vincent Van Gogh observed that “One may have a blazing hearth in one’s soul, and yet no one ever comes to sit by it;” Thomas Wolfe lamented that “the whole conviction of my life now rests upon the belief that loneliness...is the central and inevitable fact of human existence;” Einstein complained that “It is strange to be known so universally and yet to be so lonely;” and Maya Angelou said that “music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness.” Finally, John records that Jesus “came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him” (John 1:11). So this feeling of loneliness, what existentialists would call the human condition, is universal. No one is exempt from its pain; and yet there is an irony to loneliness. It’s not always a bad thing.
When do you think loneliness might be helpful to us?
Sometimes, loneliness gives us the courage to change something in our lives for the better. It also encourages us to appreciate the relationships we do have. That said, no one wants to be lonely; and yet, we sometimes sabotage ourselves: we isolate ourselves on purpose. This is tragic. What force could so drive us to remove from ourselves the very life that God intended for us to have? What pain could be so great as to compel us to avoid those whom God intends to use for our healing? This tendency in us, whatever it is, must be strong, because the strongest consequence we feel in loneliness is that it begins to strip us of our identity. I’m convinced that spending time with others serves to magnify our character traits. You’ll learn far more about yourself when you’re with others than if you spend most of your time alone. This can be a good thing, but it may not always be.
I want to end with a story. There’s a scene in the second Incredible Hulk movie where Hulk is being attacked by the army, who’s trying to capture him so they can use his blood to build superhumans like him. At one point, they bring out these two vehicles that emit incredibly loud sound. When they turn them on the Hulk, the intensity of the sound incapacitates him; he’s driven to the ground, and can’t move. After a short time, he is able to glance over and see the girl he loves standing at a distance. Just the sight of her gives him enough strength to pick himself up and grab two car doors to use as shields to the sound. He then ends up destroying the vehicles and getting away. How ironic, that someone with such incredible strength is able to fight his enemies only when he draws on the strength of someone much weaker than himself. How much less can we expect to thrive in this world, and in our faith, without important friendships? I don’t think we can.
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