And in reading it, I discovered something I share in common with him.
Not guitar talent.
Not singing voice.
Not ability to write lyrics.
Not even time in New Jersey — my seven years pale in comparison to the sixty or so that he has lived there.
No, it’s this: as the book says, he has a tendency toward social isolation while at the same time having a secret desire to be the center of attention.
Whoa. That’s an interesting paradox, isn’t it? Within the same person a desire to escape and a near-compulsion to be in the spotlight.
And just when I started to think, “man, that guy can sing but he sure is messed up” I realized: that’s me.
I don’t mind a day alone. In social situations that don’t involve this church — say, a function for Julie’s job — I can be a pretty good wallflower. And I loathe going out to lunch after preaching — even if it’s with good friends. What do I do instead? Go to the YMCA. To work out alone.
And yet . . . when the environment involves the church or even the denomination, I become a social butterfly. I love to mingle. I enjoy small talk. And on Sunday mornings, I really, really like to stand up in public and teach, provoke, inspire (sometimes), and console.
So while I’m not necessarily born to run, like Bruce I sometimes wear a brilliant disguise.
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Every time I read this blog entry, I’m reminded of your sermon on Sunday, “Alone Again, Naturally.” I think all of us have a resolute, innermost desire for times of separation from men and intimacy with our Father. It can reveal itself in myriad ways, I think. As much as you delight in the leadership and company of men, I would imagine that there is a pull you find at times irresistible, an ache like a persistent hunger, that guides your feet away from your fellow creatures of dust and so urges your knees to the floor. It is at times this way with me, and so in my infancy, I assume it must not be a singular emotion.
In the past, I have been moved by this detailing of Christ. It is from Matthew and is his reaction following his reception of the news of John the Baptist’s death.
“When Jesus heard what had happened, he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place. Hearing of this, the crowds followed him on foot from the towns. When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick.” (Matthew 14:13-14)
I had a personal revelation when I read this passage not too many months ago. It seemed to me there was a time for separation, but that ultimately, the work for the Father will always call us back to the company of our brothers. And so, I think, these patterns become cyclical and important revolutions. Our spiritual life grows by them.