I’m isolating. I’m withdrawing. And it feels ok. It makes sense. It’s easy and comfortable. It isn’t right. But I’m doing it. Have been for months. Wasn’t concerned about the ramifications. Didn’t recognize the results. Until church this morning. Haven’t been going. Makes the isolation easier. Makes the blinders stronger. Makes my heart harder. This isn’t “ok” like I’ve been thinking it is.
I’m sure I’m not the only one. Displeased with church. Bored by preaching. Irritated by people. Tired of hypocrisy and gossip. I walked away. Not from Jesus. But from others. “No point,” I told myself. “I’m making no difference. Why go?” You know you’ve thought and felt the same. I’m sure I’m not the only one.
But in the isolation. In the by-myself-ness there’s no growth. There’s no iron to rub up against. There’s no spark to ignite passion. There’s no voice to encourage or convict. There’s silence. Lots of silence. And while it’s often golden it’s also deafening. It drowns Him out. It stifles His call, quenches His Spirit. And, you become numb. I am numb.
You can see it in my face. You can hear it in my silence. There has been nothing to read because I’ve had nothing to say. Not sure I do now. But this hardness can’t stay. The void must be filled and the silence broken. I must acknowledge this place, this dry desert land, and move. I cannot stay here. Neither can you.
Perhaps we take these steps together. We are not alone. Never have been.