Community

I was at a party with some friends a few weeks ago, and we were listening to a classic rock station when “Lonely is the Night” came on, by Billy Squier. These days, I laugh when I hear that song, because of the obvious, though almost circular logic of one of the verses, which says “lonely is the night, when you find yourself alone.” Uh, hello Mr. Obvious, long time listener, first time caller. Really? Thanks for clearing that up.

I mention the whole deal about that song because loneliness is something I’ve been feeling lately. Doesn’t it seem strange that I had these thoughts – of Billy Squier and loneliness – while at a party? What’s more interesting to me is that I swing between being almost depressed by this feeling, and then in the next breath, experiencing a sense of freedom that is hard to explain.

In nearly all of the stuff I’ve been reading this past summer, “community” is a buzzword. And not community in terms of “I live at this address in my community” but rather community in the sense of that circle of folk that you “do” life with, that group of people who you allow to know you honestly and who you know honestly without condemnation, and who you can count on and be counted on by. My loneliness has been freeing in that I seem to be seeing people – all people – in a different way. I very much applaud the words of Thomas Merton, who said that

“Yesterday, in Louisville, at the corner of 4th and Walnut, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all these people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness, of spurious self-isolation in a special world, the world of renunciation and supposed holiness. The whole illusion of a separate holy existence is a dream. Not that I question the reality of my vocation, or of my monastic life: but the conception of "separation from the world" that we have in the monastery too easily presents itself as a complete illusion . . . I have the immense joy of being man, a member of a race in which God Himself became incarnate. As if the sorrows and stupidities of the human condition could overwhelm me, now I realize what we all are. And if only everybody could realize this! But it cannot be explained. There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun.”

I applaud Merton because, as a Trappist monk, he lived a life of silence, and carried that choice even further by living away from the Monastery in his own private hermitage. For him, life was created to be a solitary, lonely existence. And yet, in the midst of that loneliness, on a trip to Louisville, he discovered that we are never truly alone, and that we are tied to each other simply because we were each created by God, whether we choose to admit that or not.

I am learning to appreciate some of what Merton experienced, albeit on a small level. In the past, it’s been very easy for me to poke fun at people different than me (the sport itself I call “mocking” and some of you have played with me!). Now, instead of laughing at a NASCAR jacket, I sometimes (no, not all the times – I’ve still got room to grow!) see the person in it as a person that Jesus valued enough that He would give His life away for them. They, in effect, begin to “shine like the sun” for me. That realization is the soil in which community can grow. And in community, I am not lonely.

There is a freedom in learning to value and, on some level, learning to love other people. Experiencing this freedom has been a good thing for me. And yet, as good and rich as the sense of freedom I’ve experienced has been, I’ve also been acutely aware that I am changing. The changes make me hard to understand, I think. My circle of friends – or “homeys” as Jacob would say – seems to be shrinking. In church, I am seen as uninvolved because I won’t join in the busy-ness of their calendar. 10 years ago, my sense of worth was largely derived from how busy I was at church, and because I was there so much, I spent the majority of time with those church folk. Now, because of a change in churches and, more importantly, an evolving theology and subsequent worldview, I don’t seem to “fit” with Joe ChurchGuy. But, interestingly to me, the non-ChurchGuy isn’t someone I hang much with either, as they don’t understand how I am learning to interpret and live-out Jesus’ Kingdom message. My ideals are changing both politically and socio-economically, and in the process of reforming, I am not quite sure how best to communicate “whassup” with me these days, so I often sadly take the safe route of avoidance and silence. I realize that I must live out these changes to become fully engaged in the difference that Jesus is making in the world, and often wonder if all of these confusing thoughts are part of becoming who I was meant to be in Jesus. To quote Five for Fighting, “I don’t know where I’m going yet, but I sure am getting there.”

So these are the days of my life. A pendulum swinging between the freedom that comes from learning to love people I previously thought unlovable on one hand, to a real sense of loneliness that comes from being misunderstood by a lot of folks, all while having no desire to hang out with people who don’t seem to “get” Jesus in the way I think they should.

I began a new paragraph to allow the arrogance of that last sentence to hang in the air a minute. I realize how that sounds, believe me. That in itself is a huge part of my problem. Donald Miller, of Blue Like Jazz fame, wrote this in his book Searching for God Knows What: “Shouldn’t I be grateful that God showed this stuff (the beautiful truths of Jesus) to me rather than connecting the theology to my identity and then using it to distinguish myself from ‘inferiors’ who haven’t figured it out? (p. 199)

Miller nails me with his self-commentary. Please pray for me, that I can learn to humbly live out the Kingdom message of Jesus in a way that speaks of beauty, truth, justice, mercy, compassion – a way that speaks of love – while being a person that knows friendship – real friendship – deep lasting friendship doused in the Holy Spirit. Then, and only then, will I be one who knows where his steps take him, and will joyfully chose to walk along the Way.