Stretch a hand to one unfriended
Thursday, November 24, 2011 at 06:31PM “Art thou lonely, oh my brother? Share thy little with another. Stretch a hand to one unfriended, and thy loneliness is ended.” - John Oxenham
I’ve always loved this poem. It resonates for me with the teachings of Jesus, and my innate compassion for others. Also, as someone who has often been lonely, I consider it wise advice.
Much to the surprise of those who know me in a leadership or public speaking role, I am rather shy and introverted. It is difficult–painful even–for me to talk to strangers in social situations. Tonight, I stretched my social skills, deciding to attend a comedy show alone.
I knew a little about the venue–I suspected I could cozy up to a bar, or a small table in the back and enjoy the show. (Being single and shy requires such stealth and advance preparation.) When I entered the concert hall, however, I found seats only at large tables full of people, or large tables completely empty. My choices were forced socialization, or feeling sorry for myself all night.
I summoned courage, and asked if I could join several folks at a half-empty table. They were friendly enough, but immediately returned to their very internal conversation without so much as an introduction. I made a few attempts to be conversational — I can do this if I have to — but quickly gave up the effort when there was no reciprocity.
The ache of sadness, failure, and loneliness began to crawl up my spine. I felt out of place. I regretted not sitting at a table alone.
Moments later, a young man walked in, looked around the room much as I had moments earlier, and settled into a table alone. I recognized that somewhat awkward decision to sit alone at a big table on the side of the room. I knew that body language too well.
Immediately I stood, walked over to his table, and invited him to join us. ”Are you expecting others? I don’t know these other guys, but if you’d like, you’re welcome to come sit at our table. My name is Jeremy.”
As it happens, I had invited an extrovert to our table. The conversation became more inclusive. I certainly felt more at ease.
The story would be more interesting if I could say that Justin and I became immediate best friends. It would be more dramatic and compelling if I could say that I was somehow an answer to prayer, or saved him from suicide, or convinced him not to commit some crime because of my kindness. Nope. But, I found that in stretching a hand to one unfriended, my loneliness was ended. I don’t know if being alone bothered Justin, but his alone-ness was ended, too.
Is this story about serving another? Is it a story about me overcoming loneliness? Or is it about the four friends who left me lonely and unwelcome in their presence?
Jesus calls us to be salt, light, a “city on a hill.” He modeled radical inclusion of outsiders. He welcomed children, women, prostitutes, tax collectors, foreigners, and even church leaders. Following in his footsteps, we can be people that stretch a hand to those unfriended. Within our churches, our homes, within ourselves, we can be vessels of hospitality.
And, in both the poem and in the stories of people who follow Jesus, the result is the same. The one who chooses to befriend is himself blessed and transformed by the experience.
