loneliness

Open the Door to Others

“To open yourself to another person, to stop lying about your loneliness and your fears, to be honest about your affections, and to tell others how much they mean to you-this openness is the triumph of the child of God over the Pharisee and a sign of the dynamic presence of the Spirit.” (Brennan Manning, Abba’s Child). We lie about our loneliness and our fears. They are hidden beneath smiles, activity, and bravado. We ignore aches and push down anxieties because we believe the people who present themselves to others without these trappings are more acceptable, desirable, and welcome. And that’s how the loneliness and fears grow. They lie to us about our worth. Their grip on us tightens and reinforces our distance from those who would really know our hearts. Those lies battle with the truth that we need others, and the truth that real strength lies not in hiding, but in vulnerability. Life is not found behind closed doors. In an unguarded moment not long ago, I moved toward a friend. I clung to a glimmer of hope that maybe I wasn’t alone; maybe she felt it too. We began a hesitant companionship, marked with vulnerability hangovers from fear we overshared. Several times one or the other of us nearly canceled a lunch date because the thought of baring ourselves felt too heavy. But slowly, we pushed past our fears toward each other. After a while, we thought maybe we weren’t alone. Maybe other women wanted, needed, a place to be raw, real, seen, and heard too. So we invited a few. And they came. Four of us are on a journey of opening to each other. Between work and travel and family, we carve out times together where we simply ask, “how are you?” and make space for more than rote answers. We have, each of us, wondered if we fit in with the others. As we open doors into deeper recesses of our hearts, we navigate fear. We brave disappointing one another with our honest selves. Together, we invite each other’s childlike selves to show up, share wounds that need care, and receive the tenderness and empathy we need. We share where our hearts are in the process of being awkwardly awake and alive to the mess of life, parenting, friendship, and ministry. One week, a flurry of text messages appeared about getting together. I chimed in that I couldn’t come, and received no response. With a sinking feeling in my gut, I watched as they excitedly planned time without me. The loneliness and fear called back to me, telling me how foolish it was to believe I could leave them behind. They whispered of my lack. Told me I was dispensable. Noted how quickly I was passed over. When our group sat down in our booth at Panera the next week, I swallowed hard and spoke my lies. These friends listened, understood, and opened the door for me to reclaim my space with them. The triumph…

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What I’m Learning about Loneliness

Confession: in this season of life, loneliness is a frequent companion of mine. If it were up to me, my life would be a constant episode of Friends, Cheers, or Seinfeld, living in the assurance that I belong to a tight-knit group of people whose doors are always open to me, and who are seemingly always available. Perhaps my expectations are a wee high. But we all want to be known, to belong, to be pursued, and to be loved. Loneliness feels like a stamp of disapproval. You somehow missed the invitation to the party. Whenever loneliness entered in my life in the past, I begged God to take it away. This time around, I feel Him asking me to linger in it a little longer, because loneliness teaches me something. This is what I am learning about loneliness: It is not an indictment. I keep silent about being lonely because it feels like a judgment; there must be a reason I'm lonely. Like maybe I'm really unpleasant to be around and no one's telling me (although I'm confident enough to doubt this is the case. I like me. I can't be the only one). In the void, the enemy speaks shame to the lonely, keeping us locked in silence. Sometimes loneliness just is. It's not the result of doing something wrong, or something wrong with you. It's just a plot thread in this chapter of the story. God's writing a good story for each of us. There is a difference between loneliness and being alone. Several weeks ago, my husband went on his first long trip in a while. I was achingly lonely, even though I interacted with plenty of people. Last week, he was gone again for another week, but I felt content to be by myself, breathing in the silence and enjoying more time to think. You can be alone and not lonely. And you can be surrounded by people and feel terribly lonely. It's good to recognize the difference. Lots of people are lonely. Sometimes I wonder how many of us sit in loneliness, wishing someone would reach out. Imagine all of us finding each other if only we stopped being silent about our loneliness. But again, shame wants us to believe we are the only ones. The lonely ones are probably the most unexpected. My guess is most leaders are lonely. Think of our pastors, our bosses, the famous men and women we admire from a distance. You know what that distance does? It isolates. The pressure to fit an image, the way position or status makes it hard to relate to others-they make it a challenge for many to find people who relate to them as peers. They might need companionship the most. Loneliness pulls back the veil. One of the most frightening aspects of loneliness is that it exposes what we hide in our busy activity. It shows how much we hunger for companionship, what we most deeply desire, and how easily our souls settle for lesser things. That is something to…

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Are You Looking for God in the Right Places?

One morning last week my husband told me there was a hawk in the backyard. I glanced out the kitchen window and observed nothing. Later, he came in again and asked, "Did you see the hawk?" "No," I replied, assuming it flew away. "It's still there. It's been there all morning." I looked out again, scanning the trees. No hawk. Maybe he was blending in with the trees. Erik led me upstairs to our 2nd floor deck and told me to look with binoculars. "Ah," I thought, "it's probably way back in the trees and that's why I couldn't see it." Nope. That hawk was right in the middle of our backyard, pecking away at bugs in the grass. Turns out I couldn't see it because I wasn't looking in the right place. I wasn't looking hard enough. There's so much we miss if we aren't looking for it. That hawk, on the other hand, wasn't missing a thing. Between pecks, he hopped up on the soccer goal and stayed alert, scanning the ground. Every minute or so he jumped down with lightning speed and pulled up a frog or a worm. He was focused, and it served him well. I want to be like that hawk. I don't want to miss what God is doing because I'm not looking for it. I don't want to hold so tightly to what I believe his goodness should look like that I miss his actual blessings. I don't want to be someone who loses hope, or doesn't expect God to work, simply because he isn't conforming to my plans. Last spring, I spoke with a good friend about how easy it is for me to do this though. I have been in a long season of loneliness, brought on by a number of factors mostly beyond my control. While I have cried out to God to ease this pain, it seems he has been silent on the issue. But when I stop and look harder, I see ways that God is providing relationships for me. My life may not look like an episode of Friends (and let's face it-whose does??), but I have people. Yes, it's hard to grab the quality time I would love to have with them, but I am thankful for the moments God does give me. It might be a last minute serendipitous lunch with a friend, an unexpected phone call, a canceled appointment that gives me sudden time with someone else. It's not so much that I am alone-I am simply so focused on what I think a lack of loneliness looks like that I miss what he is giving me. That hawk, it appears, has made our backyard his home. He's learned there's life here for him, and where to look for it. He trusts that this place will provide for him. You and I, we know where to look. Life is here, being given to us day after day. He is with us, giving us what we need. Sometimes it's in…

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