All in the Family

No one knows what it’s like . . . To be me . . .” —Tom Petty

For much of my life, I have struggled with the sentiment expressed above, convinced that no one could understand what I was going through and that I was really all on my own. I had it especially bad during my angst-ridden adolescent years, but, really, the conviction that what I am suffering is my suffering alone, that it is somehow unique in the annals of human history, has been my more or less constant companion.

Today, I received a message from an acquaintance who happened to read my blog referencing Robert Frost and felt moved to write and let me know she appreciated the theme of the blog and also that she, a former Lit major, also enjoyed Frost. Fairly regularly, I will receive a message from someone to let me know that this or that blog was especially meaningful and timely. Such affirmations never fail to encourage, as I’m sure you could imagine. More than that, they illustrate the absolute falsehood of Tom’s and my conviction that we are in it alone and no one knows what it’s like to be us.

We all know what it’s like to feel lost and alone. We all have struggled with self-doubt and despair. Everyone knows sorrow and loss; everyone knows pain. In the words of author, Julia Cameron:

“I believe that the ‘dark night of the soul’ is a common spiritual experience. I believe, too, that the answer is continued seeking and perseverance. It helps to know that others have endured a loss of faith.”

It is a tactic of the evil one to convince us we are all alone. Abandoned. Betrayed. To convince us we have to go it alone. “We are all so much together, but we are dying of loneliness.” With those twelve words, Albert Schweitzer nails the sad reality of our world today, even (especially?) for Christians, who should be the most connected, least lonely, people in the world. Go back and read Jesus’s prayer for us in John 17, and focus on the part where he prays for us to be one as he and his father are one. How is that working out for us?

Ironically, and depressingly, church reinforced for me the conviction I was “in this life alone . . . That I had no one left but God.” That’s another line from Frost, who truly grasped the struggle of trying to find a common place in a world that is convinced we have nothing in common. I couldn’t even begin to imagine the perfect looking people at church dealing with the same temptations and struggles I dealt with. I could not envision any of them failing as I had failed. But they did. And they do (1 Corinthians 10:13).

So. When I write, I write for me. I write out of the well of my own experiences, my own hurts, needs, joys, failures, and triumphs. But I don’t write just for me. My struggles and successes are shared with many, many others. I’m always gratified whenever someone else finds hope and encouragement through anything I’ve said or written. If—sorry, WHEN— you are tempted to despair and you are just so close to giving up, whenever you are sure no one could possibly understand, take heart. Know you are not alone in your misery and discouragement. Someone else has, many someone else’s have, traveled your road. Most importantly, your Savior has walked it, as well. He has hurt, and cried, and prayed incessantly, and wondered if God was listening. He has been misunderstood and lied about and humiliated. He has been betrayed by friends. In short, he gets it. And here’s the beautiful thing: he’s got you!

“For I am certain that nothing can separate us from his love: neither death nor life, neither angels nor other heavenly rulers or powers, neither the present nor the future, neither the world above nor the world below - there is nothing in all creation that will ever be able to separate us from the love of God which is ours through Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:38, 39).