Transport for Christ

Since I've been thinking about it, I've concluded that one of the most profound forms of loneliness is not physical isolation, even if it is challenging enough. It is the feeling of isolation that comes from speaking yet not being heard.

We are all familiar with the sensation.

You make an effort to convey to another person what is weighing on your mind, and before you have even tried to find the appropriate words, the responses begin to come in. Suggestions. Explanations are provided. Make amends. Perhaps even a Bible verse that is presented in a hasty manner, as if a hastily delivered truth might accomplish the task of patient love. Even as the conversation continues to progress, something within you begins to quietly shut down. No, not because the other person intended to create harm. In most cases, they did not. On the other hand, because your heart required space, and space was the one thing that you were not provided with.

It seems to me that this is a component of the issue that James is focusing on. In order to fully hear one another, we are not very adept at remaining still for an extended period of time. Interruptions and reactions are abundant in the world in which we live. Everything drives us to go at a faster pace. Our comments are quick. Quickly defend yourself. Decide quickly. Be quick with your speech. And then we wonder why so many people, even in places where there is a lot of conversation going on, have the feeling that they are not being seen.

To tell you the truth, I've witnessed how this phenomenon operates not only between individuals but also within an individual. Our own hearts have the potential to become impatient with us. We speed through our sadness. We reprimand our anxiousness. Our unhappiness is brushed off as a sign of weakness or a lack of faith. We attempt to alleviate the pain before we have even given any consideration to what it could be trying to convey to us. Although it is normal that we want relief, there are times when we are so focused on getting rid of the pain that we fail to realize what is in need of attention.

Such seasons have occurred in my life. Possibly you have as well. There were times when I didn't require the assistance of another person to fix everything. Simply put, I required someone who would not exit the room in a precipitous manner. An individual who was able to sit with what was real without making any attempts to fix it up. This kind of presence seems to be uncommon in today's world. Additionally, when it arrives, it possesses a certain sacredness about it.

When you look at the Gospels in a more deliberate manner, you will begin to realize how frequently Jesus gives individuals his undivided attention. He pauses for the blind beggar, whom the other people were trying to silence. The woman who had endured suffering for years is brought to him, and he calls her daughter back. On the way to Emmaus, he walks alongside disciples who are bewildered and mourning, and he provides them with the opportunity to express themselves before beginning to reframe their understanding. He is not a stone thrower when it comes to the truth. As if it were bread, he offers it.

The life that Jesus lived was one of self-sacrifice. He is getting closer. What he receives, he takes in. He does not compromise the truth while simultaneously making room for human frailty. And this is something that is directly related to both one's mental health and their beliefs.

A significant amount of emotional distress is made more difficult by feelings of shame and isolation. We begin to believe that we are excessively large. Too dependent on others. Overly delicate. Excessively difficult to understand. But it is precisely in those settings that Jesus encounters individuals. The internal conflict does not faze him in any way. He maintains his composure there. Take a deep breath. On the scene there. That is significant for individuals who are experiencing feelings of anxiety, bereavement, fatigue, or quiet despair. It indicates that the presence of Christ is not something that is reserved for the most difficult times in our lives. When it comes to the tattered ones, he also comes near.

In Psalm 46:10, the Bible says, "Be still, and know that I am God."