As much as I enjoy these moments, they don't happen as often as I would like. I admit I often get caught up in making sure the produce shelves are full of fresh product instead of truly trying to meet the needs and answer the questions of shoppers who are responsible for supplying my paycheck. I don't know how many strangers I serve on average in a day, but it's a lot; I admit I start to see those customers as part of a mass of consumers I am to serve instead of seeing them as living, breathing souls who have stories to tell. They're just people who come to me when they need to know where to find ginger root or avocados; what vegetables are good for juicing; or if I could possibly bring out more broccoli from the back because what's on the shelf looks terrible.
That is my routine day in and day out, and within in that routine of customers coming to me with their needs, I begin to feel . . . invisible? I'm the one who answers the questions about product location, suggests different apple varieties, endures complaints about product prices when I have nothing to do with such decisions, and more. Basically, I am among the fruits and vegetables to be your produce and customer service "Go To Girl," but sometimes working to please as many people in a day as I can begins to feel lonely.
I'm sorry if that comes off as whiny -- that's not my intention -- but my point is that loneliness doesn't discriminate. We all feel it and we all wonder if anyone sees all our serving and caring and trying and pleasing. Maybe you are a stay-at-home mom who wonders if her husband sees and appreciates all the sacrifices she makes for the family on a daily basis; or a nurse who, quite literally, gets shit on all day, only to be yelled at later in your shift by the same grumpy-ass patient; or a businessman who is handed project after project when you're already struggling to keep up with your regular work load. Regardless of your place in life, eventually that question slaps you in the face: Does anyone appreciate me? Am I only important to others but only if I have something to offer? That question pierced me a few days ago and I ended up wallowing in that loneliness most of the day.
It took me a few hours to snap my head back up from the Eeyore-esque mentality I had donned, so when I felt like I no longer wanted to be a victim of my circumstances, I started to pray. (I hope this doesn't come off as a look-at-me-I'm-so-holy humble brag.) God, I feel invisible, unappreciated, and like I don't matter. Could you please meet me in my loneliness and remind me that you see me, love me, and fill me with purpose?
There wasn't an immediate relief from this burden, but feeling the sweet freedom from my pangs after a time was encouraging. As much as I know God created us to have friends and find joy in knowing others well -- He did give Adam a companion in Eve (Genesis 2:7, 18-23) and Jesus commands us to love each other selflessly (John 15:12-15) -- I also know that as wonderful and fulfilling as friendship and community can be, they aren't meant to fill every dusty nook and cranny of our hearts. I think it was author Donald Miller who wrote in the book Blue Like Jazz, "There are some places only God can go." Consider what Jesus says in John 6:55-58:
That is my routine day in and day out, and within in that routine of customers coming to me with their needs, I begin to feel . . . invisible? I'm the one who answers the questions about product location, suggests different apple varieties, endures complaints about product prices when I have nothing to do with such decisions, and more. Basically, I am among the fruits and vegetables to be your produce and customer service "Go To Girl," but sometimes working to please as many people in a day as I can begins to feel lonely.
I'm sorry if that comes off as whiny -- that's not my intention -- but my point is that loneliness doesn't discriminate. We all feel it and we all wonder if anyone sees all our serving and caring and trying and pleasing. Maybe you are a stay-at-home mom who wonders if her husband sees and appreciates all the sacrifices she makes for the family on a daily basis; or a nurse who, quite literally, gets shit on all day, only to be yelled at later in your shift by the same grumpy-ass patient; or a businessman who is handed project after project when you're already struggling to keep up with your regular work load. Regardless of your place in life, eventually that question slaps you in the face: Does anyone appreciate me? Am I only important to others but only if I have something to offer? That question pierced me a few days ago and I ended up wallowing in that loneliness most of the day.
It took me a few hours to snap my head back up from the Eeyore-esque mentality I had donned, so when I felt like I no longer wanted to be a victim of my circumstances, I started to pray. (I hope this doesn't come off as a look-at-me-I'm-so-holy humble brag.) God, I feel invisible, unappreciated, and like I don't matter. Could you please meet me in my loneliness and remind me that you see me, love me, and fill me with purpose?
There wasn't an immediate relief from this burden, but feeling the sweet freedom from my pangs after a time was encouraging. As much as I know God created us to have friends and find joy in knowing others well -- He did give Adam a companion in Eve (Genesis 2:7, 18-23) and Jesus commands us to love each other selflessly (John 15:12-15) -- I also know that as wonderful and fulfilling as friendship and community can be, they aren't meant to fill every dusty nook and cranny of our hearts. I think it was author Donald Miller who wrote in the book Blue Like Jazz, "There are some places only God can go." Consider what Jesus says in John 6:55-58:
For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him. As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever feeds on me, he also will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like the bread the fathers ate, and died. Whoever feeds on this bread will live forever.
All the food, friendships, delights we could possibly enjoy eventually will leave us hungry again and craving something more; the love God gives us in and through Jesus Christ is the kind that was made to satisfy us eternally. We were made specifically to know God and delight in his love for us. Find your purpose, significance, and love in Him; in my own search for various things to fill that void, I've discovered that nothing else will do.
Truly my soul finds rest in God;
my salvation comes from him.
He is my rock and my salvation;
he is my fortress, I will never be shaken. (Psalm 62:1-2, NIV)
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