sensing sorrow

Most people carry burdens behind a smiling face. Chances are you do too. I know nobody talks about it much, but that’s not what bothers me. What I don’t understand is how people either fail to see it or fail to care. I use the word fail, because it really is a failure on our part. An undershepherd at my Bible study once began a sermon by asking the question, how is it that someone can come to our Bible study, be surrounded by Christians and then leave without anyone noticing? How can someone be surrounded by people and still feel alone, unwanted, pushed to the side? Do you ever think about that?

It’s epidemic. Everyone knows that as believers, we’re called to love one another. That doesn’t happen abstractly. The apostle john says its even more than just via words or tongue, it’s demonstrated by deeds and that’s what makes love true. But stop here, most of us don’t even love to the degree that we use or words or tongue. And we’re talking about deeds and truth? Maybe I’m being pessimistic, maybe I’m jaded, but I have seen a good number of people with distant eyes on a Friday night. I told my roomate steve that sometimes I can stand at the front of the room and look out over the congregation and just point out the people who are in the very process of falling through the cracks. Just like that. But it’s more than just being engaged in conversation. Your mouth can be moving but in your heart something can still be amiss.

But I think you can sense it if you try. Think about it. You can hear it when they sigh after a good laugh, a sort of reluctant breath which seems to glaze the silence. You can see it in the hesitation of their lips, like they have one more thing to say but then nothing comes. You can feel it when you close the door and something about their farewell feels weak or unresolved. You can see it when their eyes dart away from yours, like they’re hiding something and looking at you straight will give it away. You can feel it when you touch their shoulder or give them a hug, how they’re response only meets you halfway, like the other half doesn’t really believe in it. You can hear it in their voice when their trying to be happy, something about the pitch and the waver, and you know that inside they’re weeping. You can see it when they fidget, not like they’re nervous but like they’re trying to distract themselves from losing composure. Sometimes you don’t even have to see them, and you know by their extended absence that they’re battling the demons alone.

I wish we would learn to sense sorrow with a keener heart. I hope none of us become Christians who plaster on their smiles and spend their entire lives telling their friends and family how everything is fine. It’s not fine. Not when we’re sinking into the shadows at night, feeling empty before we fall asleep and empty when we wake up. You ought to know that something is wrong if you can’t remember the last time you had lasting joy and a sweet sense of divine light. If your living right, you should be waking up to the silver ring of glory, not the heavy drone of dirge.