"Sleepers, awake."

I have this habit sometimes of being brutally honest. And when I say “sometimes,” I mean pretty much every day of my life. And when I say “brutally honest,” I mean I’m like Buddy the Elf when he encounters fake Santa.

When I was 4-years-old, I attended a really small home-school co-op. Besides me, there were two other girls (best friends), who were both a couple years older than me. I’ll call them Lucy and Nicole. Having only brothers at home, there weren’t many girls I could play with at the time, so I tried desperately to fit in with Lucy and Nicole, following them everywhere. They didn’t like me very much. Sometimes we’d play Hide-‘N’-Seek, and they’d ditch me and just stay hidden together the whole time.

One day, after this sort of exclusion had gone on for a while, I came upon Lucy and Nicole as they were playing a game together. Like usual, I asked if I could join in. Like usual, they said no and shut me out. For a minute, I was really sad. Then, finally, I decided that was it. I’d had it with their evasive maneuvers and the solo Marco Polo games. So, like a political leader keen to fight injustice, I turned around and marched back to where Lucy and Nicole were playing. “You know what?” I interrupted their game. “Jesus said we’re supposed to love everyone. So you can keep leaving me out, if you want. But I just want you to know that you’ll be sinning.”

(Take that, fake Santa.) 

I mention this story for a few reasons. First, that moment means a lot to me, because I was a really shy kid, and it was rare for me to be bold and stand up for myself. Secondly, I like that story because I’m the only 4-year-old I know who told someone off by using Scripture and snark. And, more seriously, I bring up that story because my “friendship” with those girls is the earliest memory I have of feeling lonely.  

Since that first day, when I was 4-years-old, I’ve been lonely thousands of times. Honestly, fear and loneliness are the two biggest, consistent struggles of my life. I have a great family, who has loved and supported me from day one. But being the only girl amidst four boys was overwhelming at times, and when I was younger I spent a lot of time playing by myself or reading. Somewhere along the way, Satan planted seeds in the cracks, and loneliness seeped in. 

I am happy to say, after much prayer, and many a rebuke against a spirit of loneliness, I’m doing a lot better. I have learned a lot about embracing solitude, vs. running away from being by myself. But I am human, and I’ll always struggle - as we each will - as long as I’m on this earth. 

On the days when loneliness again spills through the cracks in my life, curling and unfurling around me, I choose to remember the One greater than me, who has experienced loneliness in ways I never will. 

You know, I've done a lot of reading in the Bible about Christ, and about His life. And first, let me say I don't claim to be a theologian. I’m just a girl fighting to know Jesus. But, from all that I've read, I think there’s only one time in the entire Bible that Jesus made a request purely for Himself, out of His own personal desire. Oh, He asked his friends and followers to do a lot of things, throughout His life. "Follow me." "Love your neighbor as yourself." "Pick up your mat and walk." "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you." etc. But, as far as I can tell, those requests were always for their own good.

There's one time, though, when Jesus asked for something, just for Him. Do you remember?

"Then he said to them, 'My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me.'" [Matthew 26:38b, NIV]

We're all familiar, I know, with what happened next. 

"He came back and found his disciples sleeping. So he said to Peter, 'Can’t any of you stay awake with me for just one hour?'" [Matthew 26:40] 

The one time Jesus asked for something for Himself, and everyone fell asleep. That thought wrecks me every time. My soul wants to cry out, "Christ, would I have been there, I would have stayed awake with you!" But, in my heart, I know I would have succumbed to my human nature, just like the disciples. 

Perhaps one of the reasons this passage resonates with me so much, is because it hits close to home. I’ve struggled with a sleeping disorder since I was thirteen. I can honestly say I know no lonelier feeling than all the times I’ve cried from exhaustion at 4AM, alone, while everyone else in the world is sound asleep. It’s a horrible feeling, but it’s nothing compared to what Christ felt in that garden. After all, I have never been so alone and so agonized that I sweat blood (Luke 22:44). 

Christ was lonely, rejected, and abandoned. He knelt to pray, and rose to find himself abandoned by His closest friends. He knows the garden of loneliness. But with that knowledge, He's gone before to prepare a place for us! He was born as a baby in a manger, Emmanuel, so He could be with us. He died tortured and hanging on a tree, the Lamb of God, so we could be with Him. 

Loneliness is temporal, and it will pass. One day, we won't even be able to remember what loneliness feels like. Hallelujah! One day we will live in perfect love. 

But for now, whenever I experience loneliness, I decide to use it. I’ve found that even loneliness can serve a purpose, if we let it. Loneliness can beget compassion.

Story time. For the past two summers, I’ve worked down at the oceanfront. I’m going to make a confession. The first year, whenever I encountered homeless people on the boardwalk, I’d try to avoid making eye contact or talking to them at all costs. (This goes back to my thing about fear, which is a story for another time.) This past summer, however, I embraced those encounters, and continually reminded myself that each homeless person was a walking image of God. What I discovered, by looking beyond the surface, is that the people I’d ignorantly been scared of were really just lonely. And once I realized that, my entire perspective changed, because I’d been there and suddenly I understood.  

While I still don’t claim to be very bold, I grew in many quiet ways this summer. One day I offered a bottle of water to a homeless man, and he started telling me a story. He was drunk, and only about one in every three sentences was coherent. But through the slurring, I could tell that whatever he was saying really mattered to him. In that moment it occurred to me that this man didn’t have many people to talk to, and even though I didn’t understand what he was saying, maybe the fact that I spent time listening to him was enough. Another time, I listened to a homeless veteran talk about his time in the Korean War. He told me about the pranks the soldiers used to pull on each other, his story culminating in a raspy laugh. Then a sober look crossed his face. “We played hard in those days,” he said, “But we worked hard.” I thanked him for his service, and he grabbed my hand for a moment and kissed it. “Bless you.” A small moment, but 5 months later, it still replays in my mind sometimes. 

The thing about loneliness is it can be overcome with love. Overcome with grace. Bob Goff writes, “Grace works that way. It’s a kind word from a gentle person with an impossible prayer. It’s a force transmitted best hand to hand in a dark place” (Love Does, 180). I know that’s true, because I’ve lived it. I know what it’s like to be scared and alone, and having a hand to hold can make all the difference. (To everyone who has ever sat next to me on a roller coaster - I thank you.) 

Are you lonely? Combat that feeling by gracing someone else.  

Leave a note on a stranger’s car, reminding them they’re loved. Buy a balloon and tie it to your coworker’s chair, just because. Write a letter to a person you admire. Hug someone who’s sad. Thank someone whose work often goes unnoticed. Buy your mom flowers, because it’s Wednesday, and she’s worth it. Make cookies for your local fire department. Mail a college student a care package. Invite a friend to dinner. Spend five minutes listening to the next homeless person you pass. Drop off a potted flower on a neighbor’s porch. Be the hand that reaches out in the dark to grab someone else’s.

There are so many people in this world who, just like Jesus, are desperate for a friend to stay awake with them.

Just like Jesus, let’s use our loneliness to end theirs.

Without wax,
Sarah.