The sun shone bright in the kitchen the day I realized I had no
one I could call. Standing at the counter, slicing a pear into bite-sized
pieces for my 10-month-old firstborn, I’d instead sliced my finger. I stood
silent at the sink, letting water wash over the wound and watching blood swirl
in the basin. After bandaging my finger, I reached down for my son, placed him
in his highchair, spread the pears on his tray, and in what seemed the very
next moment, I woke up underneath the kitchen table. I had fainted, and it felt
as if my brain was rebooting after being switched off. My body felt clammy and
weak, and as I lay there, immobile, my initial panic subsided as I heard the
happy gurgles of my boy, safe with his pears.
It was then that the thought intruded: Who will I call to come help me? I did not have an answer, because
I did not have a friend. The knife had opened my finger, but it seemed to have
opened a far greater wound, a wound I’d tried desperately to ignore, hide, and
resist--the wound of loneliness.
At that time, I was a young pastor’s wife, a young mother, and
young in my understanding of God’s grace. When I picture myself in those years,
I think of myself in two places: alone in my home and all tangled up in my own head.
After college, I’d waited for friends to appear, as they’d
appeared in every other era of my life--through youth group and band and
softball teams and housemates. And they in fact hadn’t appeared. I felt as if I’d forgotten how to do friendship
and wondered if I was no longer friend-able. In my insecurity, I remained
isolated.
I remember hoping another mother would invite me out after
morning Bible study. I remember desiring one of the older pastor’s wives to
take me under her wing. After my pear-eating boy received a devastating
diagnosis, I remember wishing others would intentionally step into my shoes and
walk with me, tell me what to do, or care for me in some way.
I was lonely for a friend.
Many women are, I know this now. Many feel forever on the
outside. Many have been hurt by other women, so they intentionally stay on the
outside so as not to be hurt again. And many feel their genuine attempts at
friendship have produced little fruit.
Friendship is not as simple as we’ve been led to believe. But
here’s something else I now know: loneliness isn’t always as complex as we’ve
been led to believe either.
Sometimes Loneliness is
a Gift from God.
Whether we’re new to a neighborhood or a church, whether a good
friend has moved away or died, or whether a once close friendship has shifted,
any type of change or separation can arouse a sense of loneliness and longing
in our hearts. In our pangs of loneliness, we long instead for healthy relationships and happy
life circumstances that will remain static. We long for deep community and a sense of
belonging. We long for the good old days when friendships came easy and we
could enjoy those friends without all the adult responsibilities and burdens
mixed in.
Longing is not a misplaced desire. In fact, the longing for
friendship is a good one. How we
pursue or respond to that longing, however, is important. We must remember that
perfect relationships, perfect community, and perfect circumstances do not
exist on this side of eternity. Knowing that life and friendship will always be
imperfect helps us embrace what we do have as grace and gift, even if the
current gift is a season of aloneness, and even if the gift comes through imperfect people.
Our aloneness is a gift because it teaches us to turn our
desires to the Lord in prayer and swells our hearts with a hope and eagerness
for our true home with Jesus. Sometimes God may love us best by calling us to
aloneness, precisely so that He can meet us intimately in a time when He has
our full attention. We can be at peace with our aloneness, knowing that we have
access to a perfect, always present Friend and can cast all our cares and desires upon Him. Because all is
gift and grace, we can wait in aloneness with eager expectation of how God
might also give us the gift and grace of togetherness.
Sometimes Loneliness is
Self-Imposed
Curiously, however, many of us seem to be standing beside one another,
holding identical longings for friendship yet resolutely believing we’re alone
in them. The truth is we aren’t actually wandering alone; we’re practically
tripping over each other as we grasp at our dreams of friendship that is
perfect and easy. These ideal dreams of friendship are often created and
watered in our loneliness, and these dreams produce bitterness as we begin
demanding from others and from God according to our exacting standards.
I certainly speak from experience. As I look back at my
twenties, I see a lonely girl with a stubborn wish-dream. I see a lonely girl because of the stubborn wish-dream. A
friend, according to my dream, would have been in her twenties (like me), been
married and had children (like me), and understood what ministry entailed (like
me). My expectations of what friends God might give me were too restrictive. At the same time, I was afraid to ask for help, afraid to initiate, and
deathly afraid of being vulnerable. I wanted the gift, but I was unwilling to
do anything to receive or unwrap it.
I did pray, and I did cry. And all throughout that time, God
was answering. He was good to me in my aloneness; He was the friend who was
constantly present. But He was also answering with real people, imperfect people (like me), who lived
beside me and went to church with me and who were a few steps ahead and behind
me. I see this now, but at the time I couldn’t see past my wish-dream, my
standards, and all my bitter longings. If I’d just looked around and if I’d
just have been willing to take a few risks of vulnerability and initiation, I
would have experienced the answer God was trying to give me. Those answers wouldn't have been perfect, but they would've been good and would've enriched my life deeply.
That’s what I learned that day when the knife cut my finger and
opened my heart. It wasn’t that I didn’t have anyone I could call; it was that
I was afraid to call. It was that I
would have rather drowned in self-sufficiency and isolation than risk reaching
out or admitting my loneliness.
Are you lonely for a friend? Loneliness is nothing to be
ashamed of; turn to God with your deepest desires and needs. While His love is
steady and sure, know that nothing is constant about our relationships with one
another--there will be times of abundance as well as times of aloneness.
Cultivate a heart posture that receives both aloneness and togetherness as gift
and grace. Perhaps this will give you fresh eyes for the women there all around
you.
Perhaps you already know my latest book, Messy Beautiful Friendship: Finding and Nurturing Deep and Lasting Relationships, explores this very topic: the joys and complexities of friendship among Christian women. I'm currently working on some new material I will be releasing in celebration of the book's 6th-month-birthday and can't wait to tell you all about it! The best way to know about this release is to subscribe to the blog or follow me on Instagram or Facebook. Look for it around October 30!
