“The little child grew up and
became strong in spirit. He lived in lonely places until the day came for him
to show himself to Israel.” Luke 1:80
Last Sunday I mentioned the dangers
of living in isolation. Things become intensified and magnified when we cut ourselves
off from others for too long. If we tend to be fearful, our personal
segregation may make us even more paranoid. If we tend to think too highly of
ourselves, isolation can result in a greater conceit. We have no human interaction
to provide the normal checks upon our inner fears or haughtiness.
At the taco dinner served following
that morning’s service a lady showed me the notes she had taken, saying that
there were good things about being alone as well. I was quick to agree and her
point was well-taken. I think it can be summed up in two words: isolation and
solitude.
John the Baptist practiced
solitude. He found the quiet of the “lonely places” helped him become better acquainted
with God. As the woman at church said, “Sometimes I need to get alone to get my
thoughts together.” She needed solitude to keep the everyday noises from
drowning the quieter voice of God.
I think modern society has produced great isolation
and not nearly enough real solitude. In a greater degree than before we have
the opportunity to work at home. Or we commute to work with people we never see
outside of work. If we attend a large church we may not have real connections
outside of scheduled weekly services. Families live farther apart and move more
often than ever before. The chance for life-long friendship is almost a thing
of the past.
I hope this is merely an observation of our culture
and not someone longing for the “good old days”. I swore when I turned 50 I
would never become one of those who always looked back and wondered how the
world functioned “today” when things were so much better “yesterday”. Mother
Teresa commented that the western world has a poverty, not of money, but of
real relationships. We go through life without many relationships that go much
deeper than the surface.
A few years ago I wrote for the weekly newspaper in
our town. For Veteran’s Day I was assigned a story about a man who had served
in Viet Nam. I was told to go gently, he had some experiences which had greatly
affected him, and he might clam up if I were to probe too much. The paper
wanted highlights, not an in-depth report.
I called and set up an appointment. When I stopped
by his house he welcomed me, and we sat at the dining table, just two men; nearly
a generation apart. He began to tell me his story and where he was stationed.
He brought out his old uniform, and he laughed when I asked if he could still
fit into it.
That was the first fifteen minutes. I spent another
hour with him. I do not remember exactly how it happened, and it may have been because
he knew I was also a pastor, but before the first half hour was up he was
spilling out his heart to me. He told me things that he had told no one. “I
haven’t even shared these with my wife,” he told me. The tears flowed, and I
saw a man who had suffered isolation for years, even having good friends and a
supportive wife. He was afraid how people would receive him and his
heartbreaking stories.
John the Baptist practiced solitude. Isolation often
enables us to hide our hearts from others. Solitude is meant to produce exactly
the opposite. As we are alone, just our thoughts and God, we encounter the
choices between continuing to hide who we are, or open ourselves to the God who
already sees. Solitude teaches us to stop hiding.
Our solitude may be fifteen minutes during the
morning, a day during the work week, or even several days in which we get away
alone, and let God speak to our hearts. Solitude always has and endpoint,
isolation seems to go on forever. Solitude invites God to open our heart,
isolation is a way to hide out from God and others.
As we learn that it is safe to be open with God, we
receive others with more grace. As we see people like my Veteran friend, we
become welcome hearers whose only role is to let people tell their stories with
acceptance. People need validation that their story was ok, that they will not
be rejected or abandoned because of something they consider too dark or hurtful
to share.
Having spent time in the “lonely places” John the
Baptist could be truly “on point” as he started his ministry. In that solitude
he learned what many of us only learn second-hand. We learn “about” God, but He
knew God Himself. Perhaps a bit of solitude would teach us all a little more
about who God truly is.
