Post by MIRIAM JACOB on May 14, 2008 1:04:55 GMT -5
HE UNDERSTANDS
by Max Lucado
Cries of loneliness. Tune out the traffic and turn down the TV. The
cry is there. You can hear their cries. You can hear them in the
convalescent home among the sighs and the shuffling feet. You can hear them in
the prisons among the moans of shame and the calls for mercy. You can
hear them if you walk the manicured streets of suburban America, among
the aborted ambitions and aging homecoming queens. Listen for it in the
halls of our high schools where peer pressure weeds out the
“have-nots” from the “haves.”
Many of you have been spared this cruel cry. Oh, you have been homesick
or upset a time or two. But despair? Far from it. Suicide? Of course
not. Be thankful that it hasn’t knocked on your door. Pray that it
never will. If you have yet to fight this battle, you are welcome to read
on if you wish, but I’m really writing to someone else.
I am writing to those who know this cry firsthand. I’m writing to
those of you whose days are bookended with broken hearts and long
evenings. I’m writing to those of you who can find a lonely person simply by
looking in the mirror.
For you, loneliness is a way of life. The sleepless nights. The lonely
bed. The distrust. The fear of tomorrow. The unending hurt.
When did it begin? In your childhood? At the divorce? At retirement? At
the cemetery? When the kids left home?
Maybe you have fooled everyone. No one knows that you are lonely. On
the outside you are packaged perfectly. Your smile is quick. Your job is
stable. Your clothes are sharp. Your waist is thin. Your calendar is
full. Your walk brisk. Your talk impressive. But when you look in the
mirror, you fool no one. When you are alone, the duplicity ceases and the
pain surfaces.
Or maybe you don’t try to hide it. Maybe you have always been outside
the circle looking in, and everyone knows it. Your conversation is a
bit awkward. Your companionship is seldom requested. Your clothes are
dull. Your looks are common. Ziggy is your hero and Charlie Brown is your
mentor.
Am I striking a chord? If I am, if you have nodded or sighed in
understanding, I have an important message for you.
The most gut-wrenching cry of loneliness in history came not from a
prisoner or a widow or a patient. It came from a hill, from a cross, from
a Messiah.
“My God, my God,” he screamed, “why did you abandon me!”
(Matthew 27:46)
Never have words carried so much hurt. Never has one being been so
lonely.
Out of the silent sky come the words screamed by all who walk in the
desert of loneliness. “Why? Why did you abandon me?”
I keep thinking of all the people who cast despairing eyes toward the
dark heavens and cry “Why?”
And I imagine him. I imagine him listening. I picture his eyes misting
and a pierced hand brushing away a tear. And although he may offer no
answer, although he may solve no dilemma, although the question may
freeze painfully in midair, he who also was once alone, understands.
_________________________________
From No Wonder They Call Him the Savior
www.maxlucado.com
by Max Lucado
Cries of loneliness. Tune out the traffic and turn down the TV. The
cry is there. You can hear their cries. You can hear them in the
convalescent home among the sighs and the shuffling feet. You can hear them in
the prisons among the moans of shame and the calls for mercy. You can
hear them if you walk the manicured streets of suburban America, among
the aborted ambitions and aging homecoming queens. Listen for it in the
halls of our high schools where peer pressure weeds out the
“have-nots” from the “haves.”
Many of you have been spared this cruel cry. Oh, you have been homesick
or upset a time or two. But despair? Far from it. Suicide? Of course
not. Be thankful that it hasn’t knocked on your door. Pray that it
never will. If you have yet to fight this battle, you are welcome to read
on if you wish, but I’m really writing to someone else.
I am writing to those who know this cry firsthand. I’m writing to
those of you whose days are bookended with broken hearts and long
evenings. I’m writing to those of you who can find a lonely person simply by
looking in the mirror.
For you, loneliness is a way of life. The sleepless nights. The lonely
bed. The distrust. The fear of tomorrow. The unending hurt.
When did it begin? In your childhood? At the divorce? At retirement? At
the cemetery? When the kids left home?
Maybe you have fooled everyone. No one knows that you are lonely. On
the outside you are packaged perfectly. Your smile is quick. Your job is
stable. Your clothes are sharp. Your waist is thin. Your calendar is
full. Your walk brisk. Your talk impressive. But when you look in the
mirror, you fool no one. When you are alone, the duplicity ceases and the
pain surfaces.
Or maybe you don’t try to hide it. Maybe you have always been outside
the circle looking in, and everyone knows it. Your conversation is a
bit awkward. Your companionship is seldom requested. Your clothes are
dull. Your looks are common. Ziggy is your hero and Charlie Brown is your
mentor.
Am I striking a chord? If I am, if you have nodded or sighed in
understanding, I have an important message for you.
The most gut-wrenching cry of loneliness in history came not from a
prisoner or a widow or a patient. It came from a hill, from a cross, from
a Messiah.
“My God, my God,” he screamed, “why did you abandon me!”
(Matthew 27:46)
Never have words carried so much hurt. Never has one being been so
lonely.
Out of the silent sky come the words screamed by all who walk in the
desert of loneliness. “Why? Why did you abandon me?”
I keep thinking of all the people who cast despairing eyes toward the
dark heavens and cry “Why?”
And I imagine him. I imagine him listening. I picture his eyes misting
and a pierced hand brushing away a tear. And although he may offer no
answer, although he may solve no dilemma, although the question may
freeze painfully in midair, he who also was once alone, understands.
_________________________________
From No Wonder They Call Him the Savior
www.maxlucado.com