Today, for the first time, I am featuring a guest writer at Getting Down With Jesus. Please welcome, David of Red Letter Believers.
David is a terrific writer whose words always compel me to consider how I’m living out my high calling in all areas of life — not just in the pew on Sunday morning. I came across David about two years ago through the High Calling Blogs network of writers. And I’m honored to host him here today.
Today, David and I are trading guest posts. We are each sharing our thoughts on loneliness at one another’s blogs. You can find my post over at Red Letter Believers. But first, sit a spell here and read David’s thoughtful insights that challenge and encourage.
“All the lonely people, where do they all belong?”
Four decades ago the Beatles sang the song “Eleanor Rigby.” It punctured the heart of a generation that was desperately looking for some sort of meaning and purpose.
Since the release of that song, I’ve seen satellite television on demand, a cell phone in every hand, and social networking for the masses.
Unlimited ways of communicating beckon us, and still we are no less lonely. Amazingly, in a world of endless entertainment, active lives and bustling streets, men and women are still be isolated, empty and alone.
“Eleanor” is more than a simple analogy; she has morphed into a picture of modern society. She, Father MacKenzie, and all the other lonely people are my friends, my coworkers, my neighbors. They are me.
This week I began looking for the lonely. And they are everywhere. I began a bold, one-man outreach mission. Could I reach them?
There is the man who lives next store, who is from another country. No friends. No family. I knocked on his door and we shared a glass of tea on his front porch. Did I see a gleam in his eye?
An older man who works in the same building has no relationships outside of work from what I can tell. He punches in. He punches out. He goes home. He was surprised – and delighted that we had lunch.
There was a man in the alley behind my workplace. Wrapped in a dirty blanket, he had a hollow look of desperation. Rejected, addicted, sad. I squatted down. I asked him if I could help, asked if I could pray. He nodded and thanked me.
A woman in the store, stooped from the ravages of bones without substance, pushed her cart. I didn’t know her story. But I offered to help her with the tomatoes on the top row. I smiled at her. Called her maam. Asked if she would cook me soup. She beamed at me.
All the lonely people.
The amazing thing about this week, is that I realized that I too, was lonely.
But by reaching out, I found my own ache filled. I have a God who tells me, “You are mine, and I am yours.”
“Be filled my son. Be filled.”