1/16/55

Scripture: John 16: 19-33

Text: John 16: 32b; “I am not alone, because the Father is with me.”

There is a song, which has been rather popular with concert performers of recent years, entitled: “You’ll Never Walk Alone.” We heard it effectively sung by the Northland College Choir here several seasons ago.

In the January issue of a popular woman’s magazine, Louise Dickinson Rich writes under the title, “No One Walks Alone.” She begins by saying that, when she was quite youthful, she felt that she could cope with anything. She realized, of course, that she would meet with disappointment and sorrow, and perhaps even tragedy, along with the wonderful things that would happen to her. But she was confident that she could take everything in stride, stand unaided on her own two feet, and fight her own battles unaided by anybody. Time brought her the troubles all right -- fire and flood, poverty and illness, drudgery and loneliness and exhaustion and despair. It thrust upon her the death of some of those nearest and dearest to her, including her still quite young husband.

But at the same time these things beat her down, she discovered that people around her took a kindly and genuine interest in her. When she and her family had to live for a long while on potatoes and oatmeal and salt, because there just wasn’t any money, an understanding neighbor sent milk and oranges for the baby. The neighbor remarked that “the books say” babies should have milk and orange juice. So, the neighbor said to Mrs. Rich, “You’re welcome; it’s nothing. Forget it.” Mrs. Rich knew she was welcome; she knew it was not a trivial thing; and she didn’t forget it!

Then there was the time in an evening when her husband died, and a neighbor woman walked two miles to come and stay with her through the terrible night, just sitting with her, saying nothing, attempting no futile gestures of impossible comfort, but simply, wisely, being there. And there came the time when she moved to a new town, and was lonely for familiar faces and places. A woman stepped from a car in front of the house, and introduced herself in this wise: “I live on the corner; and I’d like you to know how pleased we all are that you have taken this house.” That single moment of a stranger’s time and thoughtfulness made the whole neighborhood a friendly place to her.

Mrs. Rich maintains that some of the nicest, most thoughtful things that have been done for her were done, not at the time of some crisis, but during what seemed the most uneventful periods of her life. She is sure that she does not walk alone; and that there is an instinctive decency and wish-to-be-good and kind and generous in most folk. God’s face is reflected in such people, and they are not far away from those who have felt lonely.

Loneliness is a malady that cries for cure. And part of the cure is in the assurance that one does not walk alone. Everybody is subjected to loneliness at some times. It is not a state reserved for those who fail to win popularity, or for those whose living demands moving away from established friendships. Sometimes it comes in several ways at once, so that a person knows what an old shepherd was talking about when he referred to “the dull ache of loneliness.”

There is a loneliness that has its roots in the inner person; the isolation one feels even in the midst of a crowd. Probably you have met it at some time in your life. And there is the loneliness of the one who must be a leader and who must make decisions that are not popular, but right. Abraham Lincoln must have been frightfully lonely in making some of the decisions that helped to preserve the Union -- even though surrounded by people, and voices, that clamored disapproval or approval.

A college friend of mine who has been more than moderately successful in his own line of business once remarked that he thought that the more promotion a fellow gets, and the more responsibility he must assume, the more alone he feels. He said to me, “Bob, leadership is lonely.” Perhaps that is true of those who are especially great leaders.

In the story of “The Cain Mutiny” Commander Queeg was a despicable character. Yet, in thinking about his qualities, good and bad, and about the responsibilities he had to carry, Captain Keefer sympathized with him to this extent: “Command,” he said to Willie, “is the loneliest, most oppressive job in the whole world.”

Now and then some community leader, or a civic official, or a minister, feels called upon to follow a course of action not approved by the people. That can lead to lonely moments. It may be that some have known too little of such loneliness, while vital issue remain unsolved. It is not good for the community if civic leaders, and the citizenry alike, think and say and do only what everybody else seems to think and say and do. It is a sorry day for the church when ministers and deacons pay attention only to what they believe everybody else wants, rather than to the issues of what is wrong and what is right.

Then there is the loneliness of the man who has violated what he knows is true and right. A real tragedy of sin is that its guilt makes the sinner such a lonely person. We ought all to pray for the strength that will endure temptation and withstand evil impulses and attitudes. But Christian faith holds to the assurance that if one falls, and is burdened by his guilt, he need not stay in isolation. In the words of Scripture: “If we confess our sins,” that is, with true repentance, God “is faithful and just, and will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” [I John 1: 9].

There seems to be a kind of loneliness which each of us shares just because we are human beings. That is to say, no one can enter completely into my experiences. And I am not able to enter fully into yours. Joe Gray may actually see little literary skill in the sheets of homework which John Green’s boy takes to English class, and over which John Green beams so proudly. But when Joe Gray’s little girl gets honorable mention for her 4th grade contest picture -- Ah! That’s something to exclaim about!

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Perhaps lonesomeness means being without any knowledge or feeling that one is loved; that one is not aware of any fellowship with human beings, or any other being, in which fellowship, spirit is in communion with spirit. It means that one lives without any commanding sense of direction and without expecting aught of the future except some endless track. Going through life with no great loyalty, because one has no idea that there is anything to which he may be loyal, is lonely.

Another cause of loneliness is perhaps this - that one is lonely because he is inwardly empty. In 1925, T. S. Elliot wrote these lines:

We are the hollow men

We are the stuffed men

Leaning together

Headpiece filled with straw, Alas!

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Shape without form, shade without color,

Paralyzed force, gesture without motion.

If we are basically bored, we are inwardly empty people.

Not so long ago a news story described a Bronx bus driver who drove away from his run one day, and was later picked up, bus and all, in Florida! He explained that he was tired of taking the same route every day, stopping at the same corners and going through all the same motions. When he returned, many folk made a sort of hero of him! The company refrained from prosecuting him, and even gave him back his job. Why was he so fortunate as to be treated this way? Could it be that he was a kind of symbol of the emptiness that pervades the life of a great many Bronx people?

We must strengthen the inner life. And the center of that strengthening will be God Himself. Remember Jesus in this regard. He told his disciples: “The hour is coming, indeed it has come, when you will be scattered, every man to his home, and will leave me alone; yet I am not alone, for the Father is with me.” [John 16: 32]. That seems to be the very thing that sustained him through the coming brief triumph, the blunt and forceful condemnation of wrong in Jerusalem, the agony of Gethsemane, the desertions of his friends, the heartless, mob-inspired trial, and the unbelievable crucifixion. In all of it, save for one awful moment of doubt on the cross when he felt forsaken even of God, Jesus was confident that the Father was present with him and that he was doing the will of God in the decisions that he had taken.

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Whitehead said: “Religion is what a man does with his solitariness.” Far from escaping solitariness, we do well to seek it, daily, for a time. And in that solitariness we can listen to the voice of God, who will give to all who ask the ability given to Isaiah. You remember that Isaiah wrote:

“They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength,

they shall mount up with wings like eagles,

they shall run and not be weary,

they shall walk and not faint.” [Isaiah 40: 31].

A physician and surgeon to whom I referred here a couple of weeks ago, Dr. A. I. Ludlow, was giving one of his pithy and inspiring chapel talks to the staff of a Korean hospital. And he chose to talk about this saying of Isaiah, underlining the words: wait, renew, mount, run and walk. Renewal of strength, he said, is conditioned on waiting upon the Lord. Not by inaction, but in repeated action, he said, do we wait upon the Lord. For while waiting we may worship, and pray and trust. A ship in a lock moves upward before it moves ahead. The waiting at the lock is not “lost” or “dead” time. It is action, it is necessary motion -- upward so that it may presently move ahead.

Renewal of strength should be for some useful purpose. A young fellow once determined that he would be a really great weight lifter. He began with ordinary stones, then gradually accustomed his muscles to larger rocks and boulders, until with the aid of a special harness, he could lift over a thousand pounds. However, when his old mother asked him to bring in wood or coal, that was different. He was unwilling to lift so small a load. His strength was reserved for exhibition purposes.

The renewal of strength, in Isaiah’s saying, is manifested in three ways:

1) Mount up with wings as eagles. the Bible makes little mention of “mounting up.” There are few references to it. In fact, the times of great uplift are often accompanied by the danger of reaction, as seen in Peter who in the evening was quick to boast of his loyalty, and before the night was over had repeatedly denied that he knew his master at all.

Christ did have some of his disciples with him on a mount of transfiguration, so that they could serve him better in the valley.

2) “Run and not be weary.” The pole vault and the dash call for a sudden burst of energy. But the marathon is a far different proposition, said the Doctor. We might imagine that Paul had been in a great crowd watching a long-distance race, for he wrote: “Wherefore, seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith.” [Hebrews 12: 1-2].

3) But far more difficult than mounting or running, says the doctor, is walking. References in the Bible to walking far outnumber those of mounting or running. The Christian finds it no simple or easy matter to walk worthy of the vocation wherewith he is called. And yet a Christian should be known by his walk.

The starting point -- Jesus Christ; the path -- good works; the pace -- walk, advised Dr. Ludlow. And, during the walk, constant, repeated cultivation of the companionship of God, making the commitments His will demands of us -- these are a satisfying cure for loneliness. For God has made us for fellowship with Him.

He makes us strong when we are weak; gives us courage when we would be fainthearted; brings us from our faltering to assurance.

“I am not alone, for the Father is with me,” saith our Lord. And with this faith, people, though still with problems on their hands, go ahead with trust and the feeling of blessed companionship.

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Delivered in Wisconsin Rapids, January 16, 1955.