The Gracious Gift of Loneliness

I didn’t ask for the gift of loneliness. I’m not sure anyone does.

I knew this traveling and settling was going to be hard and I braced myself for the weight of the days. I guess I didn’t anticipate how much the days would actually ache. How could I?

I longed for a kindred spirit, someone whose soul’s contents were the same as mine. I searched and I searched in this crowded place and came up short. On this island filled with so many hearts, isn’t there one that beats like mine?

Things are getting hard and I don’t know what to do and I’m all alone. This feeling, it’s creeping in and making its home right down in the deepest spaces. Is this really what life looks like? Is it time to go home yet? I’m empty and I want to go home. I want to feel known again.

I start seeking— I talked to him, less “if this is your will” and more the nitty gritty lonely parts that I don’t even like to admit exist. I started praying my honest fears, desires. Real me met with real God and we clicked.

No, it didn’t happen overnight. I pleaded with him like a desperate, unrelenting neighbor asking for bread.  He was safe and listened and let me just be with him. He brought me to his sanctuary and spoke to me and began to gently mend the hurt. I grew bold and asked and heard and saw him like I never have before.

I preached to myself:

Take heart, O soul! Jesus will insert life into dry bones. You are seeing it even now! He will produce wellsprings of hope, of more of himself, in the barren places. Dwell in his courts and let him fill you! 

He showed up and kept filling. I was blinded by his goodness, his love for me. It made its home in the deep places. I sowed tears and came out carrying sheaves.

Was the loneliness worth it? Would I erase the wrestling if I could? Maybe, but I am sure of this: he did a work in me that could have never happened in the comfort of the coasts. He drew me away for himself so that I could hold my hands empty, with the someones and somethings that I used to rely on all gone. Only then could the beauty-for-ashes take place. 

So the moments, days, months, the breaking and emptiness have actually been a gift. I am thankful.