Alone*

Birth means leaving the warmth and shelter of our mother’s womb to be thrust into a world of unknowns. We acclimate and learn, but most of us remain uncomfortable with change. Children like routine and set schedules. It creates a sense of security. Alas, the real world is full of change and loss. One of the things we lose is the feeling of being an extension of our mother. We recognize that we are “other”.
At first, there is a heady independence; but slowly it dawns on us that we are alone. We may have relationships, but imperfect flawed human beings quickly run into barriers to intimate connection. In our affluent society where we are not scrabbling to survive, we have time to reflect on our aloneness. We even become lonely, wishing for that perfect marriage, soul mate friend, appreciation of who we are as a unique individual. Too often that does not happen. Our infinite soul and its longings can only be filled by an infinite God.
Allowing God to fill the voids can be painful. Like the trauma of physical birth, the second birth takes us from the known and comfortable into unknowns.  It requires introspection and honesty about our sinful condition. It requires ceding control to a Sovereign God. It requires acknowledging that we are pilgrims passing thru and that all of the things in this world that we think will fill up the void are not enough. Until we reach our final home and are in God’s presence, we will continue to be lonely. We live in a fallen world. It has seen a glimmer of redemption thru the work of Christ, but completion is not yet.
But without the second birth, we will experience shallowness and superficiality as we try to fill the aloneness void with accumulated objects, socializing and parties, acclaim. With the second birth, we become part of a community, the Body of Christ, which though imperfect is the closest we will come to shedding our aloneness on this earth.
*Thoughts from reading Ronald Rolheiser’s The Restless Heart