I never knew lonely could be so blue
I never knew lonely could tear you in two
I never loved someone like I love you
I never knew lonely til you.
Vince Gill
Loneliness is the ache that comes when the crushing weight of emotional and physical isolation wraps a person in a cocoon and squeezes. It is a relentless pressing the searing heat of an iron against the silken soul; the dull echo in a heart that longs to be touched. Loneliness is that blister that never heals no matter how much salve we put on it. It rubs and rubs no matter how we try to loosen the shoe. We can find reprieve in the company of friends or the distractions of modern media, but this disease begs for a permanent cure. Who can provide it?
I had lunch with a friend recently who described to me this bitter ache. A divorce has rendered him powerless over the cacophony of loneliness and regret that relentlessly pummels him. He has taken refuge in friends and ministry–even God–but the pain continues in the quiet of his home, late into the night when there is no one close. He longs for the touch of a human being. Someone to hold him, tell him he is loved. In those moments, regrets pour in through his windows like acid rain and eats at his bones. Where do we turn when we feel the physical longing to be held but no open arms await us? I felt my own tears close at hand as I listened. I have been to that dark place and know all too well its horrors.
When we give a piece of ourselves to someone else, we invite the possibility of pain. For that reason, some declare a mantra of independence. Another close friend of mine has had such rotten luck with relationships that she swears them off forever. She prefers to date, and bolt at the first sign of “crazy” or “controlling”. She gladly pours her life into her children, but even she has confided in me the loneliness that comes amidst the busy events. She longs for security in the form of true love she can trust. But the sheer volume of evil that has assaulted her in the guise of care has given her cause to build a moat so wide and deep it is nearly impenetrable. Where is her knight in shining armor?
Years ago I fell in love with a song by Vince Gill, which I have quoted above. His haunting melody and words put a voice to the lonely highway he traveled as a musician. That road eventually led to a painful divorce. I remember my naivete about divorce when I was young. It seemed common enough because its waters had never reached my shore. Therefore I never thought about it. But one day it alighted near my beach and that long, lonely echo rang in my ears like a gull circling bleached bones. Then it wasn’t just something that happened to other people. It was my pain, my agony to bear. I remember the sleepless nights, the chattering teeth, the tremors that came and went. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t stop my mind from churning. It was a feeling like no other; the kind of emotional pain no human being should ever have to bear. I felt like a bug pinned to a board with no means of escape. I do not say this lightly, but I longed for peace in the form of death. I am grateful for the friends who surrounded me during that dark time and pulled me out of it. Not the least of which was my Savior.
He redeemed my story and quite miraculously reconciled my marriage. But many of my friends have not experienced such relief. My male friend expressed to me that from his perspective it is apparent that I take my spouse for granted. I quickly denied this when I should have been silent. That old wound left a terrible scar, one that could never be erased. I am imperfect, but I will never forget. For that reason I know how enviable my position is. When one is single and gripped in the arms of loneliness, despair pounces at the most unlikely moments and devours like a hungry panther. Be it a song, a television program or a familiar scent. Pain is the downpour that washes reason away.
I have a friend who has stuck close to me over the years, of whom I cannot proclaim loudly enough. Becky has expressed to me how helpless she felt when I was gripped by torment, but she–more than any other living human being–bound up my wounds with her feisty love. She refused to abandon me, clung to the tattered remains of my heart with her care, and enveloped me with truth. She listened when I raged, clung to me while I cried, and covered my wounds with her tears. But more importantly, she reminded me of the great love that heals all of the injuries of the heart, the love of Jesus.
I know. There I go again. Religious rhetoric of the finest sort. Forgive me. I write what I know. Jesus is a great mystery to me–his life and ministry baffle the senses. What I do know is that he is real. He was present in my pain then as he is now. He is the balm of Gilead. He is the saver of souls, the healer of the broken, the forgiver of sins. He triumphed over the grave and stooped low to speak words of peace to the poor and forgotten. He knows my pain intimately because I am his child. Who else could offer the salve that soothes the blistered heart and provide the eternal fix for our chronic problem?
One of my favorite verses in the Bible is one that Jesus spoke, “I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33) Reading those words I am reminded that my friends who have battered and broken hearts have hope. Yes, the pain of loneliness will come. Regret. Remorse. Agonies of the soul. Their pain reminds me this world is broken and we are waiting for a Savior to redeem it. I hurt with them, even as I long to take their pain away. But I am only Margaret.
We endure this world with all its beauty and suffering, its grandeur and pain, its cacophonies and silence. Our senses continue to seek for the answer to our questions even as we live and breathe polluted air, drink contaminated waters and bleat our sorrows. You may not have encountered Him yet. You may think me odd and annoying. I accept that. But He is the only answer I have. And he is the best answer I have. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. And for now, while we wait for him to return, he offers up the very next best thing; his sons and daughters. The Becky’s of the world.
When I shared a meal with my hurting friend we discussed loneliness analytically, but reasoning will not take away the sting. Forgive me, friend. I should have reminded you even as I remind myself today, Heaven waits. And then I should have held your hand and cried with you.
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