All great and precious things are lonely
~ John Steinbeck ~

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Have you ever felt the heavy oppressive weight of loneliness? Even in the midst of a pulsating crowd but, when you feel alone, you are never more alone than in that space.

Lonely is like a bird perched high on a roof watching the flock dissolve into a faded sky.
Part of something but not connected.
In the world but not of it.
An interrupted course.

Lonely has language. Silence.
Lonely has emotion. Sorrow.
Lonely has color. Invisible.
Lonely has position. Inverted.
Lonely has movement. Motionless.
Lonely makes a statement. Unloved.

Psalm 102 is referred to as, “a prayer of one overwhelmed by trouble, pouring out problems before the Lord.”  A poem of lament for the lonely.

My heart is sick, withered like grass,
and I have lost my appetite. (v. 4)
Consumed by ailing sadness

Because of my groaning,
I am reduced to skin and bones. (v. 5)
Weak and malnourished for peace

I am like an owl in the desert,
like a little owl in a far-off wilderness. (v. 6)
Desolate and lost in a strange place

I lie awake,
lonely as a solitary bird on the roof. (v. 7)
Isolated, abandoned and restless

If all great and precious things are lonely, could this mean we are not as alone as we are led to believe? Maybe, just maybe, we’re all much more connected than we realize. What seems like a solitary scourge of one is a global plague of all mankind.

What, then, is our message of reprieve?

Tell them the LORD looked down
from his heavenly sanctuary. (v. 18)
He looked down to earth from heaven (v. 19)
to hear the groans of the prisoners,
to release those condemned to die. (v. 20)
A commuted sentence for the lonely. A holy rescue.

Rise up from your solitary perch little bird.

Flight awaits.

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