Tag Archives: loneliness

On The Ridge

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

Isolation and alienation have probably affected my outlook on life far more than I consciously understand. Consider the following from my youth:

  1. My first ten years, I was a gringo living in Mexico; I connected with the handful of other Anglo missionary kids far more than with the surrounding culture
  2. When we moved to a little East Texas town, I didn’t connect with that culture either; my different life experience, religious and academic orientations were off-putting to others and a barrier to fitting in
  3. In the advanced English course in my first semester of college, there were only three of us guys in a classroom of young ladies; that may sound wonderful for the guys, but it continued my theme of not fitting in (to this day, I find few men who appreciate poetry; even fewer who write poetry)

In the decades since, I got along fairly comfortably in white evangelical culture… until my late 50s. Beginning in 2016, and then rapidly accelerating in 2020, I began to distance myself from that culture. Now, I once again feel the isolation and alienation of my youth.

Here’s how that came about…. At the very time I began to recognize selfishness and racism in my own heart, a large majority of white evangelicals began to embrace and trumpet these sins.* When terrible events of 2020 and 2021 afforded opportunities to inspect our hearts and to repent and reform, too many doubled down instead on their love of power and privilege. Their hard hearts led them to hate good men and to love evil men. (Here’s a poignant poem I wrote at that time: “Lord’s Day Vision.”)

Am I blameless in all this? NO! I played a small part in promoting the drive for power and privilege until I saw what I had been doing. Even now, I keep having to bury my former affections, to douse the flame of former loves.

Does this poem make more sense to you now if you read it again with that background? I’d love to know! Comment below (click the poem title if you’re seeing this on email; there’s a comment form on the blog).

A related poem, especially with regard to God’s mercy in reforming us is “To A Misguided Cedar.“

__________

*I say “began to embrace and trumpet….” A better word may be “revealed.”

(background image cropped and tinted from a photograph by Peter Balog on Pixabay)

Whatever, Vincent

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

When I posted this on social media, more than one of my really bright Facebook friends responded with a laughter emoji. One of them even wrote, “You have a sense of humor.”

Honestly… I wasn’t feeling very humorous. My sarcasm was dark humor at best, and I was mainly feeling the darkness. It’s the darkness of a fear I’ll never find my audience in this lifetime.

Artists, including musicians, painters, and poets, are candles burning in the night. We try to shed light on beauty and truth, but feel snuffed out instead by those who are content with darkness.

I HAVE THIS COMING TO ME
I confess habitual laziness of my own when it comes to art I don’t understand. For instance, I’m woefully ignorant of meaning in great paintings. But when someone explains a Caravaggio, or a Rembrandt, or a Bruegel, I listen in humble appreciation. Then I realize how much of beauty and truth I’ve been missing.

(background image is cropped from a photograph by Perlinator on Pixabay of Vincent Van Gogh’s “Starry Night”)

Nothingness

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

I often think of Stephen Crane’s poem that goes like this:

A man said to the universe:
“Sir, I exist!”
“However,” replied the universe,
“The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation.”

A Man Said to the Universe by Stephen Crane

I have read this about Stephen Crane:

influenced by the Darwinism of the times, Crane viewed individuals as victims of purposeless forces and believed that they encountered only hostility in their relationships with other individuals, with society, with nature, and with God.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/stephen-crane

You can see that sense of hostility in Crane’s poem about a man addressing the universe. Perhaps you see it in my poem as well.

I’ll admit: I’m expressing a sense of isolation or alienation–perhaps even hostility–that I feel all too often these days. It’s akin to what Stephen Crane expressed. My sweet Christian friends will be quick to remind me of our shared faith in a loving, embracing God. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t express my occasional dark thoughts in poetry. Otherwise, how many Psalms would we have in the Old Testament?

(background image by John Paul Edge on Pixabay)

The Poet’s Version

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

This poem is my sour grapes version of the philosophical thought experiment “If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?”

Why sour grapes? Somewhere in this big world, there’s an audience for my poetry. But aside from a handful of kind family and friends, I haven’t found that audience. Moreover, my potential audience keeps getting smaller and smaller as my thinking about this world gets more and more idiosyncratic.

(background image by Andrea Music on Pixabay)

#recognition #isolation

Collaboration

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

I was inspired to write this by a Facebook friend’s comment on my rambling, “thinking-out-loud” post about Acts 13:46, Romans, and how saving faith must surely be a faith that is thankful for eternal life. I’m telling you, the post was as rambling as that last sentence. But the Facebook friend bent her mind to my rambling and said, “Brad, I see what you’re doing here….” She went on to offer some tight restatements.

I sometimes think that God has given me exceptional eyes for beauty, and wants me to develop exceptional means to describe that beauty. Poetry and photography have been my go-to in fulfilling God’s purpose for me. But I recognize that my thinking is muddy. I don’t remember things. My vision of beauty is blurry. I need friends who can help me develop my descriptions of the beauty I see.

As I wrote this poem, I thought of two local friends, in addition to the Facebook friend. I texted them about how thankful I am for their collaboration. And I wrote the following to accompany the poem on Facebook:

I’m not sure there’s anything more beautiful than one person bending his or her mind to think WITH another person. The product may be all wrong, but the process is all right!

Not What He Meant

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

I posted this on social media without any commentary, and there was absolutely NO response. How appropriate! It’s a lament about the loneliness I sometimes feel as a poet. My efforts to find a poetry writers group have thus far failed. I was part of a superb writers group a few years ago. Back then, though, I didn’t have enough confidence to make use of their generous and keen criticism. And meeting with that group became overly inconvenient.

So now, I’m living out what my father experienced much of his life: writing for an audience that never responds.

Withholding Affirmation

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

We’re often happiest when we make others happy. Today, I will look for ways to affirm those who are planted nearby.

(background image by mollyroselee on Pixabay)

#perfectionism #withholding #affirmation #thirsty

To A Stranger Past Time

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

LUNCHTIME POETRY
A coworker asked me how I spend my spare time. My answer felt weird and lonely.

Thinking about this some more…. Actually, I DO have friends who enjoy things I enjoy (e.g., hiking, making music, photography), but I have failed to schedule doing these things WITH friends most of my adult life (especially after my 20s). I understand this is a common weakness of men. A counselor told me that men my age generally have very few close friends (he was surprised at the number I DO have). Plenty of acquaintances, sure, but they might as well be strangers. I had that in mind in the second stanza: we are sometimes strangers with those who could be friends, or are friends… close friends.

Speech Sins

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

FIRST, MY STATE OF MIND IN WRITING THIS POEM
Occasionally, I lie awake for hours, struggling with the consequences of being an obvious sinner. Then, the sun rises and I must go forth, in hope that the Spirit will channel this expressive energy God gave me.

The sins of some people are obvious, going before them into judgment, but for others, they show up later. Similarly good works are also obvious, and the ones that are not cannot remain hidden.

1 Timothy 5:24‭-‬25 NET

NOW THE EXCELLENT FEEDBACK OF TWO WISE FRIENDS
First, from Jim Powell: “You probably already know this, but Tony Campolo famously began one of his sermons by saying: ‘I have three things I’d like to say today. First, while you were sleeping last night, 30,000 kids died of starvation or diseases related to malnutrition. Second, most of you don’t give a shit. What’s worse is that you’re more upset with the fact that I said shit than the fact that 30,000 kids died last night.'”

Jim added, “For the record, I do not use profanity, though I occasionally will quote it if there is a reason to do so. I probably wouldn’t even use it the way that Tony Campolo did, however, he is right about his priorities. While we sleep tonight, thousands of children will die of hunger, malnutrition, and curable diseases. And we don’t get as energized about doing something about it, because we don’t see any angle in which we would be fighting against sin. In fact, too many Christians would turn away those very children if they showed up at our southern border. Because right-wing news media have convinced many that they are a grave threat to our national security.”

Then, this from David Lewis: “I read in a (now out-of-print) book a line about a woman who was poisoning her husband little-by-little. She distilled the poison out of sweet words, loving words, gentle words, all of them withheld.”

#1timothy5v24 #stoneswillcry #luke19v40 #whenwordsaremany #proverbs10v19

Listen Longer

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

Here’s the occasion for this poem…. I woke up in the middle of my night to a son coming home from a miserable shift bedeviled by a horrible manager. In my sadness for him, and my anger at the manager, I could not get back to sleep. So why “Listen Longer”? Deep down I know the Good Teacher never stops teaching.

When I wrote this, I was working through Luke 12. The returning master in Jesus’ parable wants to serve his servants, and is angered when his servants respond with selfishness, looking out for themselves and not each other. I begin to understand the master’s anger.

Also, the song that had been playing in my head is “Why It Matters” by Sara Groves: https://youtu.be/D32dlKv2x38

Here are the lyrics of that song:

Sit with me and tell me once again
Of the story that’s been told us
Of the power that will hold us
Of the beauty, of the beauty
Why it matters

Speak to me until I understand
Why our thinking and creating
Why our efforts of narrating
About the beauty, of the beauty
And why it matters

Like the statue in the park
Of this war torn town
And it’s protest of the darkness
And the chaos all around
With its beauty, how it matters
How it matters

Show me the love that never fails
The compassion and attention
Midst confusion and dissension
Like small ramparts for the soul
How it matters

Like a single cup of water
How it matters

Waiting, Not Alone

Commentary

When I woke up this morning, one of the first things I did was read a post from someone I follow on social media: Daniel Hanson. As is often the case, Daniel’s post was long. As is always the case, his post was intellectually stimulating, largely because it was intellectually honest. Daniel struggles with depression.

Daniel drew on the painful experience of several remarkable people: Robert Frost, W.H. Auden, Mother Teresa, T.S. Eliot, Robert Browning, the prophet Habakkuk. The leading quote was written to him by his personal friend, Michael Novak: “Often enough, faith leads one to feel abandoned to darkness, isolated in inner dryness, undermined by a fear of having been seduced into an illusion. It is not at all hard for a person with faith to understand why one would walk away.” Daniel then told one of the stories that explain Novak’s “particular brooding depression.”

So, Daniel would conclude, “I know that I am not alone in these feelings. I know that others carry the weight of staggering pains that every day threaten to make them stumble and fall.”

As I processed what I had read, I thought especially of Michael Novak and Mother Teresa. Michael Novak spoke hopefully of suffering as a “sign of spiritual adulthood.” Daniel quoted Mother Teresa as saying “how sweet and merciful is the lord” despite being in “the place where she must only wait — a place where no hope would appear.”

My mind turned to this very short but very long (“so close to/Here so far from”) wait for resolution. I pictured Mother Teresa in a doctor’s waiting room like the one I recently visited, and set out to write this poem.

THE LAST LINE
The last line is ambiguous. In what sense are we not alone? Other mortals experience the same grief we do. Knowing that brings a little comfort. But some of them point us to a greater comfort: the Immortal One stepped into our experience of time and space and suffered with us. Jesus personally understands grief. Moreover, He is willing and able to effect all necessary change, to bring relief.

As If By Death

Commentary

This poem is a companion to one I wrote almost a month ago. It arises from a growing recognition of what it means to continue serving in a ministry when a close partner in ministry has left. What’s true in this case is probably true wherever close friends work together on something difficult and then one of them leaves. Picture soldiers in war, or parents in the child-rearing years. Even triumphs that follow that separation can feel hollow.

TWO INTERPRETATIONS
From the introductory paragraph, and from the way that I recorded the poem, it should be clear that “as if” introduces a comparison to a death that has not actually occured. It just feels like death. Going separate ways feels especially like death when the friendship is deeply valued. I’d guess most of us experience only a handful of such friendships in our lifetimes.

But the simile gains its power from something we all experience: the loss of friends and families through actual death. So, if it helps you draw out an emotion, read the poem in that second way. Turn it on its head. Let the “as if” introduce a comparison of actual death to abandonment. When a loved one dies, do they leave us alone? It’s as if they do! They’re gone for now. We need to acknowledge that emotion, to be honest about it, even if we live in hope of the Resurrection. One comfort of that hope is this: if stories of what we experience while separated by death are worth remembering and relating, I imagine we’ll be able to share those stories hundreds — or billions — of years from now.

AN EXAMPLE OF THE SECOND INTERPRETATION
Over the last two years, I have grown in the direction of kindness, something I pray for almost daily. God is using current events to soften my unkind heart. I have come to care for things that I didn’t care for in years past, and to not care for things that I cared for too much in years past. In this process, I often wonder how my father would have responded to the same current events. Would he have grown bitter, as I see some growing? He was making progress — looking more like Jesus — right up to his death in late 2016. Had he still been living, would we have seen together what I now see alone? I imagine so. But because he and I share another Friend, and because that Friend secures our eternal life, we may some day look back together on what we now see apart. Oh, the stories that — reunited — we’ll share!

Eternal life. That’s my hope. Is it yours?

Job’s One Good Friend

Commentary

I wrote this after talking briefly with a friend who was struggling. It seemed to me that the friend needed nothing so much as a brother to share his burden — a brother who is willing to suffer alongside, to let the smoke blow in his own face. No lectures. No correction. Silent compassion can speak louder than words. At least that’s what I’m told.

Why “Job’s One Good Friend”? The biblical character Job had friends who sat with him for a while in silence. They had come together “to show him sympathy and comfort him.” But then they opened their mouths, and it wasn’t helpful. It seems that the one who came closest to being a true friend kept his mouth closed the longest.

And why a campfire? If you’ve ever sat around a campfire in the mountains, you know that as the wind direction shifts, the smoke sometimes blows in your face. Some guys feel that they are the target, no matter where they sit! I picture Job and his friends sitting around such a campfire, perhaps one that burned down to embers and then to ashes. “And he took a piece of broken pottery with which to scrape himself while he sat in the ashes.”

Alone at the Lake

It was wet, cold, and windy at the lake today… almost as good as a hike in the mountains.

This is a poem that took its own shape as I wrote… NOT what I set out to write. In the small group materials that Dave Carr and Sten-Erik Armitage prepared for our church, they quoted Alvin Plantinga articulating this striking truth: “The chief difference between Christianity and the other theistic religions lies just here: the God of Christianity is willing to enter into and share the sufferings of his creatures, in order to redeem them and his world. Of course this doesn’t answer the question why does God permit evil? But it helps the Christian trust God as a loving father, no matter what ills befall him.” That’s a truth I need to reflect on more often and more deeply.

It was wet, cold, and windy at the lake today… almost as good as a hike in the mountains.