Alone on a Park Bench

I know it's a little crazy, but I'm totally posting twice in one day. So, after you read this one, go right ahead and read the one below it!

Loneliness is a fickle emotion. It's like a bitterly cold wind that comes out of nowhere, completely overtakes your senses for a moment, and then fades away, leaving no trace of itself until it blows through again. At least that's how it is for me. I can be moseying along, doing just fine, and in a blink, I feel desperately alone.

In all honesty, I'm not alone. I'm surrounded by family; I keep in close contact with lots of friends...my life is not transcendentalistic. But, in that moment when the loneliness hits, you don't feel anything but the profound emptiness, as though all your life's been just as empty. All the warm collegiality that I experienced an hour before or that I will experience an hour later means nothing. Loneliness is an emotion that's firmly rooted in the present.

And, I think that's what makes loneliness so hard to deal with. Whenever you feel bold enough to do something about it, it's not there. It's kinda like taking your car to a mechanic, and saying, "It made this horrible rattling sound all the way here, but now that I'm here, it's not making it anymore." Of course, that's the situation I'm in right now. I'm not lonely now...but I was. And I think most everyone lives with similar ebbs and flows of loneliness. That's one of the reasons that human companionship is so important to all of us--in its most complete form, marriage. It's so appealing to have someone so close that they are, in effect, part of you. It seems like the death knell to loneliness, but surprisingly, it doesn't turn out that way. I'm sure that's the reason for many divorces out there. And, I think people sometimes want children for the same reason. As a matter of fact, I heard a woman say that not too long ago. I don't know where it was, but she said that she assumed that after she had children, she would never be alone again. Yet, she realized that it didn't turn out that way.

The most poignant depiction of loneliness comes in the form of a photograph I once saw in an art gallery. (I hate I don't have an image of it to post, but just envision it.) The photo was of a old man sitting on a bench in the park. He was seated to one side on the bench, leaving room for another person, but no one else is there. In one way, the photo is all about him; he's the only person in the photo, after all. But, in another way, the photo is completely not about him--it's about that empty space next to him, about that other person that's not there. And, that's another facet of loneliness. On the one hand, it's a completely selfish emotion, because it's 100% internal: I'm saying to myself, "I'm lonely." But, on the other hand, it's unselfish, because what I'm really saying is that I don't want it to be 100% about me. I want there to be someone else there. It's a painful duality.

Now, how does this contemplation relate to God. For me, it has a lot to do with my incomplete appreciation for the many roles that God is intended to play in my life. I mean, there are some that I "get": God as Sovereign, God as Provider, God as Savior, God as Healer, etc. However, I don't yet understand God as my friend. Well, and I think it's because I closely associate "friend" with "peer," and God is not my peer, similar to the way my earthly parents aren't my peers, but even more so, since He's God. He knows me better than anyone, He understands every facet of who I am, He's been there in every second of my life, but I can't relate to Him. And, really, relatability isn't the name of the game with God. I mean, Jesus, the one embodiment of the triune God that's closest to me, is the example to follow, the ideal to chase after. Yes, He was tempted just as we are, but he aced the test. I can't say the same for myself. Not much relatability there. But, I still want relatability. Why? I could go into a long dissertation on that one, too, but this thing is already long enough.

Jumping straight to the point (thankfully, right?), I'm trying to put a round peg (God) in a square hole (peer relationship), but what I don't realize is that I'm overdosing on square holes already, and leaving the one round hole totally unattended.

Are human relationships a gift from God? Yes. Do they have the power to enhance insight into God and His Plan? Yes. Are they, sometimes, the only thing that breeds sanity in this world? Yes. However, can human relationships overshadow the importance of communing with God? Yes...just like any other addiction.

Hello. My name is Trey Hankins, and I'm a people-holic.