Silence.
Save for the sounds of the apartment.
A zipper clanging against the dryer during its cycle. The stomp from my neighbors with rhinoceros feet upstairs. A lonely train whistles in the distance. All just noise. But yet- all of it seems to only emphasize the silence even more.
Silence and I have become very familiar friends you see. We've crossed each others paths a lot these past couple of months and for this extrovert it has been on many uninvited terms.
I used to fill up my silence with noise. I'd blast the happiest music I could find. I would make the supreme showstopper of Broadway playlists and fill the noise up with singing. I'd put on a movie. Put on NPR. Sometimes without even watching or listening, just to have those voices, that noise, playing in the background to fill up the brooding silence.
But silence, oh so patient, would always wait for those things to finish, and in the end would always be there. Silence is there when the credits end. Silence is there when my computer dies. Silence is there when the Terry Gross interview I'm listening to on Fresh Air is finished.
However after all these meetings with Silence, I realized that it wasn't Silence that was bothering me.
No Silence, like when we feel the sensation of pain in our body is not the actual problem, but rather a symptom of something deeper.
Silence was, for lack of a better analogy, like the heartburn to what was actually the bigger problem of an ulcer. And my ulcer was loneliness.
Loneliness drained me.
The past couple of months I have experienced severe loneliness. Sometimes the loneliness has been out of circumstances that is no ones in particulars fault. Busy Schedules, Little Money, your basic college problems. But what stung worse is that sometimes the loneliness was because of circumstances that were out of my control,and some that hurt me and left me feeling all alone to nurse my wounds.
I can't count the times that I scrolled through my contacts and called or texted everybody or anybody who would be willing to talk.
Someone, anyone, let me know that you still care. That you're thinking about me. That you want me in your life. Someone, anyone, please.
That became my innermost cry and desire. I so badly wanted human affirmation and companionship that 't when it didn't happen my only solution would be to sleep. Because when you sleep it passes time and you get to dream.
I felt so weary. I would talk to the Lord, but I would talk as if I already expected not to get an answer.
I would talk to the Lord to fill up the silence and go on and on, 'Woe is me, even the LORD won't talk to me.'
However, it was silence that ended up speaking to me the most. Silence that pushed me to my limit of talking so that I could hear the Lord.
At this moment, I remembered a few months earlier the Lord speaking to me the name "Nicodemus."
I was really puzzled by this and did a lot of research on Nicodemus and read and re-read John 3 which is where he mainly shows up in Scripture but it wasn't until this moment that I was sitting in the silence and suddenly I remembered Nicodemus and it made sense.
See, when Nicodemus went to Jesus he was seeking answers, his time with Jesus was very private and intimate because it took place in secret and during the night and he went because he KNEW something was different about Jesus. He was not like the other prophets. And this is one of the only times Jesus did NOT speak in parable. He gave it to Nicodemus straight, and although he was mildly confused by what being born again meant, Jesus wanted Nicodemus to understand that concept because to know the spiritual things of God we must have the spirit within us and I like to think the Lord knew that Nicodemus was worth telling this to.
See I wasn't asking questions. I was wallowing. But until I stopped talking, (which for me is the hardest part because I love to talk), was when the Lord began speaking to me about these things. And just like Nicodemus and Jesus interaction was alone and in the secret, so was this.
'Shelby, if you ask, I will answer.'
I began asking the Lord like Nicodemus who HE was and what HE thought of me, and you know what? He answered.
I entered into this period (and I think am still in it) of intimacy with the Lord that would never have happened had I not been to the point of despondent loneliness and hurt that I was in.
His comfort and presence became an almost completely tangible feeling and I began to enjoy the times that I found myself alone in my apartment because those were the times that I could most easily enter into the Secret Place and be in fellowship with the God that will never leave me. Ever.
*big sigh of contentment.*
There are things about me that have not changed. I still am as energized by people as ever. And there are spots I find myself in every so often of just plain old being bored and alone. However, I think sometimes we put limitations on ourselves (I could never do that, I will never be that etc) that stunt the Lord's work in us and when we find ourselves in pain and trial is when the Lord is taking matters into his own hands and pruning us so we may be the fuller, richer, and shaped people he intended us to be.
The Lord stretched my limits by making this extreme extrovert be alone, live with an introvert, be in desk job alone, and come home alone.
But it was through that isolation that I grew most with the Lord. It was through that loneliness, that nagging silence that I was able to hear what He thought of me rather than what people thought of me. And what was most rewarding about my extreme solitude was being able to unlock the secrets of Gods character. The 'spiritual things of God' like what Nicodemus was looking for but needed to be born again to know.
Yes it is true I still get lonely, but instead of frantically reaching for flawed humans companionship, I try and turn first to my greatest Friend, Counselor, and Father. It has made all the difference.
Love, your still *inhale* extrovert, Shelby
