On the sixth day, when God made Adam, the man felt lonely and that wasn't 'good' in the eyes of God. Up until that point, God looked at everything He'd done and declared it good. But it wasn't good for man to be alone (Gen. 2:18). So God made Adam a helper. It would have been amazing in that sinless state for Adam to think, 'God is all I need,' yet Adam didn't think it and God didn't demand it. Adam's loneliness was intolerable to God and so He acted.
Loneliness can come in many forms, it doesn't have to be just romantic. I know most people feel like that's the worst kind and I concede that it is up there with the 'best'. Still, I believe being 'cut off' from life in general has to be the worst kind of loneliness. People that are trapped in a sick body, or in situations where nobody else shares their convictions can be pretty lonely. Richard Wurmbrand, when he was kept in solitary confinement to keep himself sane, began to speak to the spiders. When the prophet Elijah was running away from Jezebel, got so depressed he wanted to die, “I am the only one left” (1 Kings 19:10).
Being around people is no guarantee against loneliness. Being in a relationship is no guarantee against loneliness either. Even being in a relationship with God doesn't prevent one from feeling lonely.
Loneliness can suck the life out of us. It's real. More real than the ground under our feet and the air we breathe in. It has a life of its own and if we let it can drown our spirit more than anything else can, even the gravest sin.
I live with my loneliness like one does next to a domesticated tiger. For the most part I've learned to control it, but I never lie to myself that it's a little cat. I know it's a wild animal and given the right circumstances it can tear me apart limb from limb. So I take all necessary precautions to ensure that's never the case. I walk carefully around it even as it thinks I am its master. For the most part it works fine. I didn't ask for this particular tiger but since it's here I might as well control it if the only other option is being eaten by it. I love it and fear it in equal measures. Do I want it gone? Some days more than anything in the world.
Thinking about loneliness brought to mind an incident that occurs in the three synoptic gospels. Matthew 8:2, Mark 1:40, Luke 5:12, all report about a man that suffered from leprosy. He sees Jesus and approaches, falls on his knees and begs to be made clean. And Jesus touches him and miracle of miracles, he's healed.
In Judaism if a person was afflicted with this awful disease, they had to remove themselves from their family, their home and live outside the city gates. Sometimes lepers would make up small communities and help each other out but in a lot of cases they were all by themselves. They were not allowed to approach another Jew without announcing to them from a distance away that they are a leper and thus giving them the chance to leave. If they happened to touch anything, that thing had to be destroyed or given to the leper for their use, but nobody else would touch anything touched by a leper. They could not be part of any ritual, and they could not come close to anything holy. Their prayers were not answered, because it was thought their affliction was caused by sin and sin prevents God to listen to prayers (Isaiah 59:2). I don't believe there ever was a crueler disease. That kind of loneliness placed on a soul already stricken with a mutilated body, is beyond understanding.
The man that went to Jesus is one of the bravest man I've heard of. He's not allowed to approach another human, so he approaches the Son of God like he completely believes that his leprosy can do nothing against Him. He bows down even though he knows he has no right. He makes a request even though he knows God doesn't listen to a sinner. “If You are willing, You can make me clean.” He whispers that from the dirt, but he's out of options. There's nothing else left to lose and if they decide to pick up stones and stone him to death, surely at least then it will all be over. “Moved with compassion, Jesus reached out His hand and touched the man. “I am willing,” He said. “Be clean!” (Mark 1:41) I love Jesus. Whenever people think He'll zig, He zags. Whenever I think, 'surely, surely He won't', He does. And the opposite is true as well. I don't think He does this just to be contrary, without rhyme or reason. His compassion moves Him. In a time when touching something unclean would make you also ritually unclean, Jesus touches a leper no less! — “I am willing,” He said. “Be clean!”
I find great comfort in this story because it gives me hope. In my dramatic moments I think of my loneliness as leprosy. Yet this story inspires me to believe against all belief that if I just go and fall at His knees, He won't turn me away. I might have to call out like Bartimaeus, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me." (Mark 10:47) and I might be told to be silent but I'll keep shouting after Him until He stops if only to stop me from bothering Him (see Luke 18:1-8).
I'll knock and keep on knocking because I have no other option. I knock and keep on knocking because I have nothing else to lose. Anyone else might distract their attention with something else for a while... they're rich. I don't have that luxury. I only have Him! Am I lonely? Yes! Do I despair? Absolutely not! Look at my Door, Jesus Christ, do you see those blood stains on it? They're from my knuckles!
by Cristina Pop
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