"dying alone"

Dr. Thurman: Donnie, what did Roberta Sparrow say to you?

Donnie: She said that every living creature on earth dies alone.

Dr. Thurman: How did that make you feel?

Donnie: It reminded me of my dog Callie. She died when I was eight, and she crawled underneath the porch…

Dr. Thurman: To die.

Donnie: To be alone.

Dr. Thurman: Do you feel alone right now?

Donnie: Uh…I mean I’d like to believe I’m not, but I just…I’ve never seen any proof, so I just don’t debate it. You know? It’s like I can spend my whole life thinking about it, weighing the pros and cons, and I still wouldn’t have any proof, so I just…I just don’t debate it anymore. It’s absurd.

Dr. Thurman: The search for God is absurd?

Donnie: It is if everyone dies alone.

Dr. Thurman: Does that scare you?

Donnie: I don’t want to be alone.

From Donnie Darko (2001)

A couple months ago, I had a conversation with a mature Christian that had lost her mother at an early age. I mentioned my foreboding feeling that I might die an early death, how I had always felt God preparing me for the possibility. However, this woman said that one can be ready for death, and still have no comprehension of what they will face. She explained, in all of our capacity to empathize, nobody can imagine the accompanying mortality of an imminent death. And with this void of empathy comes an overwhelming loneliness.

My devastating fear of loneliness has placed my naivety about martyrdom on display. Over the past ten years, nearly every blatant sin I have committed has been a direct result of this fear. I have willingly dismissed my obsessions over money, position, respect, notoriety, credibility, security, likeability, personal rights, and my own self-worth. Sadly, these sacrifices have only removed me further from potentially close relationships, the only thing of value remaining on earth. The death of myself has made me lonelier than I could have possibly imagined.

Is it any wonder that I get excited at the smallest glimpse of sacrifice? One person’s declaration, whether near or far from my heart, gives me hope that I’m not in this thing alone.

Over the years, I have certainly identified with Jeremiah’s agony, have admired Moses’ brand of leadership, and have been granted Hosea’s recklessness. However, Elijah is most dear to me. I have been the prophet of great anointing, only to run away a day later. I have seen the mighty declarations of the Lord -- that which captivates and mystifies other believers -- only to find Him in the quietness of a gentle whisper. I have wallowed in the frustration of my own expectation, only to be rebuked when I haven’t moved.

When reading 1 Kings 19, I don’t get the impression that Elijah was primarily afraid of death; I think he was petrified of doing everything that was asked of him, and still bearing no fruit -- he was scared of being alone and having nothing to show for it.

Because I cannot find pleasure in anything else, I place all of my earthly eggs in the relationship basket. I have spent an ungodly number of dollars and hours looking for friends or romance, and while I find no other personal use for my resources, I have reaped nothing. My last eleven vacation days have cost me close to $1000, which I spent for no other reason than to not be alone. Each surefire "investment" blew up in my face and left me more miserable.

I recognize my sin and foolishness in this. I understand that I cannot buy a cure for loneliness anymore than I can cheat my physical death. In the end, it always comes back to the same piercing question: is He enough? Most of my life decisions have indicated that He is, but in moments like these, I don't feel very spiritual. I feel like finding a place to mope about the ominous state of affairs. I wonder, if God is so jealous for my undivided heart, why am I not comforted in my solitude? Why is there still longing?