I Am Not Alone

The Gospel according to chapped lips and bloody wrists

She looked at me through desperate eyes. In them, I saw sadness, fear, pain, and regret. As she spoke, I sensed her longing to be seen and known, forgiven and free. I wondered how long it had been since anyone looked at her. I mean, really looked at her. 

When was the last time someone looked into those deep, pain-filled eyes?

The pain of the cuts was familiar to her. She had scars up and down her arms to prove it. Her eyes said nothing of her physical pain. She was numb to that kind of hurt, but emotionally and spiritually, her eyes screamed in agony.

“Do you think God can forgive me?” she cried.

“I think God loves you beyond measure,” I replied.

“God loves me? How can that be true?”

She closed her eyes and turned away as they cleaned and stitched her self-inflicted wounds. I stayed beside her bed and prayed, whispering so she could hear, “You are loved.”

I don’t have an answer to her question, “How?” I just know it’s true.

So I repeated those words. I whispered them again, praying they might bring her comfort; praying she might begin to believe it for herself.

Every few minutes, she turned her head back toward me and opened her eyes. Her first look was always fear.

“Please don’t leave,” she cried. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I assured her. And her eyes immediately showed relief.

She closed her eyes again, and after I took a deep breath, I whispered, “You are not alone.” As I exhaled, in the same whispered tone, I said, “God is with you.”

After a few minutes, the words came to her dry, chapped lips. I saw the words before I heard them as she mouthed,

“I am not alone. God is with me.” Then again, “I am not alone. God is with me.” Then finally, those same words squeaked out. It was barely audible, but I heard them. And she continued. Never more than a whisper, but she continued to repeat those words. Over and over, breath after breath this scarred, bloodied, weak, wounded, beloved child of God proclaimed the heart of the gospel right there in the Emergency Room.

“I am not alone. God is with me.”

She became aware, even if just for a few moments, of a God who doesn’t reside in a distant heaven, passively waiting to reunite with us when we die (as long as we’ve done the right things or prayed the right prayer). No, she became aware of Emmanuel, God with us. God is with us in the emergency room, the cathedral, and everywhere in between.

The good news of the cross is God is with us... even in death.

The good news of the resurrection is God is with us... even AFTER death.

The good news of every moment of every day is God is with us.

But what makes this news “good?”

Wouldn’t it be better news if God would just stop allowing sickness and struggle and loss and pain and trauma to be part of our lives?

Wouldn’t it be better if God just kept those things from happening in the first place?

I probably don’t have the theological chops to write an adequate apologetic for why bad things happen to good people. And, honestly, I’m not convinced there is always a clear, “Why?” I understand why we ask the question. We have been told that everything happens for a reason for so long it is hard to accept that sometimes stuff just happens. But I don’t believe God causes car wrecks, cancer, stillbirth, or strokes. I don’t believe suffering happens to teach us some lesson in God’s cosmic plan. I believe suffering happens. Period. And God who professes to love us doesn’t cause it or leave us alone to drown in it. Instead, God accompanies us in our pain. God enters into our struggle, suffering, and grief. God sits WITH us and stays WITH us, and God remains close to us.

When people are grieving or in crisis or hurting there is nothing I can say that will, "make it better." There is nothing I can DO that will fix anything. But what I experience daily in my chaplaincy work is that people find comfort when someone shows up... and is willing just to sit with them smack dab in the middle of whatever it is they are going through. The people I see who struggle the most are those who feel abandoned or alone. So, as a chaplain, I show up. I say some things, certainly. But rarely does anyone remember my words. What they remember is that I stayed WITH them. I show up and stay with them, not just because it's my job, but because I want to serve as a reminder that God is with them. I want to remind this beloved child of God that even in the worst moments of their worst day, the creator of the universe didn't forget them or forsake them. God didn't abandon them or leave them alone to suffer. Instead, God is there... holding them close and weeping with them in their hurts. It is what makes these otherwise awful moments holy.

You are not alone.

God is with you.