I have always thought myself quite good at “alone time.” I am certain that I am someone that doesn’t need to be constantly surrounded by people, in fact, I often feel “claustrophobic” when surrounded by people. People freak me out, to be quite frank. I am put on edge when I am in a crowded room, fight to find words when I speak one-on-one with people; nothing is more intimidating than meeting new people, and honestly, just the idea of being in the center of a crowd makes me feel nauseous.
I wonder what it would be like to pull a “Thoreau” and go live by a pond in the wilderness?
And at the same time I do love people, in some-no-in a lot of ways, I need them. I am convinced that each and every person is unique and interesting, that each person has a story and a dream, and that each person matters more than I can express. I have decided that people are the greatest treasure of this world and that I want to spend my life polishing, refining, and helping extend the depth of this treasure. It is a crime when people are tossed aside. It is an even bigger crime when we ignore those who have been tossed aside.
So for me, doing the most important thing means overcoming the thing that scares me the most. I think that most of us are in this sort of position; the “I want this more than anything but it scares me more than anything” position. I think that this is the true nature of a dream. It has to be something that you want more than anything and at the same time, not only would it crush you not to accomplish it, the thought of accomplishing your dream is terrifying.
“Accomplishing my dream should be terrifying?”
Yes.
If the thing that you most desire is worth what you think it is, then it will cost you your life to get it.
Terrifying.
Emptying yourself for something that most people regard as only an idea but to you, is so much more than an idea, is a terrifying prospect. You somehow know that this is the essence of life, that this is Frost’s “road less traveled,” that
if you just stretch a little further that you can get where you’re headed. You’re stuck in the middle of a symphony and you are certain that the desired end-your dream-will bring resolution to a masterpiece.
As you strive and reach and fight and kick and scream and sweat and bleed you feel as though you are getting ever closer. If you can stay standing for another round, if you can get up off of the mat, if the judge would just ring that damned bell so that you can take a breath, you’ll get there. You’ll win. You just have to out dance the heavyweight in the ring, you just need a few good swings to connect, get the behemoth from the other corner of the ring to stagger, get him to feel like you do right now, and you might be able to pull this off.
But when the bell rings again and you have to get up and start all over again you realize something. You’re alone. Sure there is a crowd cheering for you. Your trainer is more passionate about the fight than you are, yelling out instructions. The ringside doctor said that you have it in you. You are surrounded, and you are alone.
Being alone is painful. Being alone is scary. Being alone is hard. Being alone makes you realize that you are ultimately responsible for everything that you do. You are responsible for how far you stretch, you are responsible for playing the right note, you are responsible for that right hook that just made your head spin. Being alone makes you feel small. Being alone makes you feel like you have been swallowed alive by the mass of humanity, that you are just another face.
Being alone makes you realize who you really are. Maybe that’s why we do so much to distract ourselves from thinking when we are alone: we go see a movie, read a book, play the music so loud that it overtakes us, get lost in hours of television. We have a million things that we do when we are alone, all of them designed to keep us from taking the time to look at the greatest wonder of God’s creation: ourselves.
Perhaps we are scared of what we are. Maybe we are more frightened by what we are not. Taking a look in the mirror could be like looking at a coward, a pathetic, trembling mass that was once a man. Maybe time alone is the great equalizer; in these moments we have nothing to lean on and that is the scariest part of all of this, isn’t it?
Dreams are scary because they guarantee that we will be alone at one time or another. I often wonder if I really have it within me to look at myself. And then I remember that I have to. I take a deep breath. I raise my head slowly, and I find myself face to face with my biggest fear: me.
Even people like me enjoy having others around because it is an opportunity to rejoice in what God has created in someone else. And having others around means that someone is going to rejoice in what God has created in me (I know, it’s crazy, isn’t it?).
There is obviously a problem: we are scared to be alone because of what we might discover in ourselves and we have to be alone at some point if we are serious about accomplishing our deepest God given dreams. So what’s the solution?
Matt 28:18-20
18 Jesus came and told his disciples, “I have been given complete authority in heaven and on earth. 19 Therefore, go and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. 20 Teach these new disciples to obey all the commands I have given you. And be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”
NLT (emphasis added)
God is smart. In fact, I would say that He is ultimately wise. I know that if I try to search out my heart I am filled with terror and I run from the task. But if Jesus holds my hand, if I don’t have to be alone, then the darkness, the hurt, the wounds that I deal with, don’t seem like such a big deal.
Jesus made a final promise, it was a simple promise: “I won’t leave you alone,” and it is the one promise that we all need in order to live this life.
Set aside the distractions.
Take a breath.
Open your eyes.
He is there.
Now.
Always.
