Hello from the middle of quarantine.
I hope this post finds you well-rested, healthy, and thankful even as many of us grapple with new feelings of being bored, anxious in a different way, and a little bit purposeless in a world that seems to change every day. Many have asked how I am doing, and to be honest, I'm great (all things considered). I've come to the realization that my life isn't terribly different than quarantine life... but that's what's driving me to write this series. Many of my friends who are extroverts or who have jobs that require a lot of social interaction are finding themselves experiencing something they haven't felt in a long time, if ever. I, however, am well-acquainted with it. It's something our society doesn't like to talk about -- a word we relegate to the ultra-homebodies, the socially displaced, and those with very, very sad life stories. But today, I think it's all of us to some degree. Whether we'll admit it or not, a global pandemic that has pushed us all to stay home has revealed a dormant sense of loneliness.
I consistently hear people talk about how they want life to go back to how it was (and I do too). But I think this is too important to pass up. And as long as it's in our face, we may as well say it: I'm a little bit lonely. My life is a little more gray because my arms are a little more empty and my calendar isn't full. We like to feel like we are wanted and that we belong somewhere. Loneliness threatens that. Isolation doesn't help. But take heart -- we aren't the first people to wander the wilderness of loneliness.
Gerald Vann wrote in The Son’s Curse “It is a terrible thing -- and only if one were subhuman would it fail to be terrifying -- to have no roots in this world, to be homeless, isolated, and “unplaced person,” to be on the earth but not of it. What in the Old Testament figure of Melchizedek -- “without father, without mother, without genealogy” -- is a mystery, for us would be a tragedy. Without family or friends or foothold in the earth, without sun and stars and winds, we should be only half alive, doomed to at best a twilight existence; to be fully alive is to be in some way part of these things -- and of their fierceness as of their tenderness.”
Studies continue to tell us that despite ever-advancing technology, there is nothing that compares to human connection. Universally, we all need and want it. It’s how we handle our loneliness that reveals our hearts. Like Vann noted, we need both the fierceness and the tenderness of relationships to help us feel rooted and connected. Without such, he says we are only half-alive. And if my math is right, half-alive can some days feel more like half-dead -- only half of what we know could be real. Only half loved, half seen, half heard -- that’s not my preferred way to live and it probably isn’t yours either. Life under quarantine feels kind of half-alive. It's just not the half we'd prefer to live.
I hope this post finds you well-rested, healthy, and thankful even as many of us grapple with new feelings of being bored, anxious in a different way, and a little bit purposeless in a world that seems to change every day. Many have asked how I am doing, and to be honest, I'm great (all things considered). I've come to the realization that my life isn't terribly different than quarantine life... but that's what's driving me to write this series. Many of my friends who are extroverts or who have jobs that require a lot of social interaction are finding themselves experiencing something they haven't felt in a long time, if ever. I, however, am well-acquainted with it. It's something our society doesn't like to talk about -- a word we relegate to the ultra-homebodies, the socially displaced, and those with very, very sad life stories. But today, I think it's all of us to some degree. Whether we'll admit it or not, a global pandemic that has pushed us all to stay home has revealed a dormant sense of loneliness.
I consistently hear people talk about how they want life to go back to how it was (and I do too). But I think this is too important to pass up. And as long as it's in our face, we may as well say it: I'm a little bit lonely. My life is a little more gray because my arms are a little more empty and my calendar isn't full. We like to feel like we are wanted and that we belong somewhere. Loneliness threatens that. Isolation doesn't help. But take heart -- we aren't the first people to wander the wilderness of loneliness.
From the moment Adam was created by God out of dust, he was a singular unit, separate from all other kinds of creation. The same was true of Eve. Both were independent beings but because they lived in a perfect world, they were not aware of their separation and it was not viewed as anything negative. They also had uninhibited access to God’s presence -- the ultimate sense of closeness, fullness, and belonging. Though they were individuals, the unity between them is something you and I can only theorize about because nothing in our world is like this.
It was the perfect balance of freedom and fiercely loyal love. Individuals with perfect unity.
Genesis chapter three tells the story of how God’s first family fell from a place of perfect unity and favor into sin by disobeying God’s command not to eat of a specific tree’s fruit. When the serpent deceived Eve, she ate and then shared her new-found snack with Adam. Their choice to disobey perfect wisdom put space between them and God even before He “caught” them later and delivered punishment. Disobedience always creates distance because in order to disobey, we first have to decide the rules don’t apply to us and we push away the expectations. It usually appears to be a move of freedom, liberty, and maybe a joyful rebellion, but distance brings with it a bossy relative called Loneliness.
Consider what happens when Adam and Eve are confronted by God. God knew the whole time that they had disobeyed, yet they lied. More distance. When God showed them that He knew, instead of repenting they made excuses. More distance. God’s punishment, then, was exactly the direction they were headed: separation. A given space between them and Him, except this time it was irrevocable. God allowed permanent loneliness because of disobedience. We are certainly still feeling this today.
Ever since Genesis three, humans have had to navigate life without the immediacy of God’s presence because of our sinful nature. We feel our independence more intensely and often negatively. Paul Tillich describes it like this:
“Being alive means being in a body -- a body separated from all other bodies. And being separated means being alone. This is true of every creature. He is not only alone; he also knows he is alone… The alone-ness he cannot endure. Neither can he escape it. It is his destiny to be alone and to be aware of it. Not even God can take this destiny away from him.”
At our core, every one of us wants to be known, to be fully loved, and to have close relationships with others. We innately crave the perfection of Eden in our relationships, but such things are too pure for the world in which we live. Our awareness of our alone-ness is what we call loneliness. And Tillich argues we simply cannot endure it, yet we cannot escape it. Loneliness is part of the human experience. Yet, we live in a world that rarely acknowledges its existence. If we do, we often relegate it to certain people groups, like singles, widows, or those experiencing some kind of isolation like a prolonged hospital stay. Rarely will we think to ask people who are surrounded by other humans about loneliness. But can I tell you a secret? Sometimes the loneliest place to be is in the middle of a crowd feeling like no one even cares who you are or why you’re there. I’ve heard stay-at-home moms say that they regularly feel overwhelmed, but I wonder what degree of the sense of being overwhelmed is really a combination of chaos plus loneliness. The presence of one’s children often brings busy-ness, but when the baby is crying and the toddler is disobeying and the dog is barking at a squirrel by the door and no other adult is around to help, this is a type of loneliness: an awareness of just how much you have to handle on your own.
Genesis chapter three tells the story of how God’s first family fell from a place of perfect unity and favor into sin by disobeying God’s command not to eat of a specific tree’s fruit. When the serpent deceived Eve, she ate and then shared her new-found snack with Adam. Their choice to disobey perfect wisdom put space between them and God even before He “caught” them later and delivered punishment. Disobedience always creates distance because in order to disobey, we first have to decide the rules don’t apply to us and we push away the expectations. It usually appears to be a move of freedom, liberty, and maybe a joyful rebellion, but distance brings with it a bossy relative called Loneliness.
Consider what happens when Adam and Eve are confronted by God. God knew the whole time that they had disobeyed, yet they lied. More distance. When God showed them that He knew, instead of repenting they made excuses. More distance. God’s punishment, then, was exactly the direction they were headed: separation. A given space between them and Him, except this time it was irrevocable. God allowed permanent loneliness because of disobedience. We are certainly still feeling this today.
Ever since Genesis three, humans have had to navigate life without the immediacy of God’s presence because of our sinful nature. We feel our independence more intensely and often negatively. Paul Tillich describes it like this:
“Being alive means being in a body -- a body separated from all other bodies. And being separated means being alone. This is true of every creature. He is not only alone; he also knows he is alone… The alone-ness he cannot endure. Neither can he escape it. It is his destiny to be alone and to be aware of it. Not even God can take this destiny away from him.”
At our core, every one of us wants to be known, to be fully loved, and to have close relationships with others. We innately crave the perfection of Eden in our relationships, but such things are too pure for the world in which we live. Our awareness of our alone-ness is what we call loneliness. And Tillich argues we simply cannot endure it, yet we cannot escape it. Loneliness is part of the human experience. Yet, we live in a world that rarely acknowledges its existence. If we do, we often relegate it to certain people groups, like singles, widows, or those experiencing some kind of isolation like a prolonged hospital stay. Rarely will we think to ask people who are surrounded by other humans about loneliness. But can I tell you a secret? Sometimes the loneliest place to be is in the middle of a crowd feeling like no one even cares who you are or why you’re there. I’ve heard stay-at-home moms say that they regularly feel overwhelmed, but I wonder what degree of the sense of being overwhelmed is really a combination of chaos plus loneliness. The presence of one’s children often brings busy-ness, but when the baby is crying and the toddler is disobeying and the dog is barking at a squirrel by the door and no other adult is around to help, this is a type of loneliness: an awareness of just how much you have to handle on your own.
I think the same is true in quarantine. We know other people are out there. We know intellectually that we are loved and cared for, but there is a very real struggle when you are not allowed to see those loving faces or receive hugs from those closest to your heart. We are faced with our loneliness like never before. That is, unless you've experienced a major life transition like moving far away or suddenly losing several close family members.
When I was living abroad, my expat community looked forward to Skyping with families and friends at 'home.' But even with the wonders of technology, we would tell you it’s both a blessing and a curse to be able to see your friends but not be with them, to hear your mom but not be able to hug her, to get the dog’s attention but not be able to snuggle him, to get a tough update from a friend and not be able to cry with them as they grieve loss -- this is loneliness. One younger student said to his mom after skyping with friends, “Mom, this is so sad.” When she asked why he was sad, he astutely said, “When I’m talking to them on the iPad, it’s like he’s right here. And then we hang up and he’s gone, like he was never here.” I would agree that the silence after a Skype call ends is the loneliest five seconds a person can experience. Reality hits and brings with it a reminder of just how far away you are from the people who anchor your feet and steady your heart. It’s hard enough to live life as a separate organism, but to be thousands of miles away and then reminded of it during a vulnerable moment -- this is not a journey for the faint of heart.
When I was living abroad, my expat community looked forward to Skyping with families and friends at 'home.' But even with the wonders of technology, we would tell you it’s both a blessing and a curse to be able to see your friends but not be with them, to hear your mom but not be able to hug her, to get the dog’s attention but not be able to snuggle him, to get a tough update from a friend and not be able to cry with them as they grieve loss -- this is loneliness. One younger student said to his mom after skyping with friends, “Mom, this is so sad.” When she asked why he was sad, he astutely said, “When I’m talking to them on the iPad, it’s like he’s right here. And then we hang up and he’s gone, like he was never here.” I would agree that the silence after a Skype call ends is the loneliest five seconds a person can experience. Reality hits and brings with it a reminder of just how far away you are from the people who anchor your feet and steady your heart. It’s hard enough to live life as a separate organism, but to be thousands of miles away and then reminded of it during a vulnerable moment -- this is not a journey for the faint of heart.
And now, at the drop of a hat, it seems we're all living it. We're all experiencing the moment when you hit "end call" and nothing has changed. It's still today. You aren't yet free tomorrow. Loneliness was right there waiting.
Gerald Vann wrote in The Son’s Curse “It is a terrible thing -- and only if one were subhuman would it fail to be terrifying -- to have no roots in this world, to be homeless, isolated, and “unplaced person,” to be on the earth but not of it. What in the Old Testament figure of Melchizedek -- “without father, without mother, without genealogy” -- is a mystery, for us would be a tragedy. Without family or friends or foothold in the earth, without sun and stars and winds, we should be only half alive, doomed to at best a twilight existence; to be fully alive is to be in some way part of these things -- and of their fierceness as of their tenderness.”
Studies continue to tell us that despite ever-advancing technology, there is nothing that compares to human connection. Universally, we all need and want it. It’s how we handle our loneliness that reveals our hearts. Like Vann noted, we need both the fierceness and the tenderness of relationships to help us feel rooted and connected. Without such, he says we are only half-alive. And if my math is right, half-alive can some days feel more like half-dead -- only half of what we know could be real. Only half loved, half seen, half heard -- that’s not my preferred way to live and it probably isn’t yours either. Life under quarantine feels kind of half-alive. It's just not the half we'd prefer to live.
But we know nothing happens on accident. COVID-19 didn't sneak up on God and surprise Him. He isn't worried about how it will turn out -- He has not left the premises.
He's right here.
In your loneliness, God is here.
In this uncertainty, we have a God who cannot change.
In the darkness, there is still light and life in knowing God's love.
In the emptiness of today and through the grief of unexpected changes, we can still live very full lives.
But we can't move past what we won't acknowledge is in our way. So if you're inclined to deny that loneliness isn't part of your struggle... well, only you and God know and more power to you. But if you're willing to name that you're just a little lonely, there's room for you here.
I'd love to share in the next post how I've learned to grow in the midst of hard times. The Bible has a lot to say about it, so I hope you'll come back. Until next time...
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