This next guest post is written by a dear writing friend of mine, Cosette. I love reading her stories and bouncing ideas with her! Cosette writes an incredible blog, which you can read here. It was a God-thing how well her post follows my writing ninja’s, because she wrote this post before I published the last one!
“Well, here at last, dear friends, on the shores of the Sea comes the end of our fellowship in Middle-earth. Go in peace! I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil.”*
Those words from Gandalf fell on my 16-year-old ears for about the millionth time, and as always, tears flowed from my eyes. But this time, it was for a different reason. I was watching The Return of the King with a dear friend who lived out of state, and we had spent an amazing beach vacation together. But that night– on the shores of the Sea– was our last night together. It was coming time to say goodbye again, and I can assure you, I did weep.
I’ve said goodbye more times than I care to think about. Whether it’s friends moving away, leaving summer camp and knowing I’m not going to see the people there again for a year, or finding out that I have a sibling who I never got to say goodbye to, I’ve had to deal with the emotional turmoil of parting.
I was an only child for 8 years, and that’s how I first learned loneliness. It was covered over by the companionship of some teenagers who were like older siblings, but I still wanted a brother or sister of my own. I saw all my friends with siblings and wanted what they had. I prayed every night for years for a baby brother or sister, and when I was 8, we finally adopted my sister Eva.
For a while, I wasn’t lonely. I often did things with friends, and I loved playing with my baby sister at home. But then when I was 12, my best friend moved away.
That sent me into a downward spiral of loneliness that lasted for several years. Though I still had friends, only a couple of them lived nearby. The others I had to communicate with through letters, text, or email, which is fine, except for when you really just need to go out and do something with someone. I hung out with my friends nearby as much as I could, but we were all busy, and none of us could drive, so we didn’t get to do things as often as we would have liked.
I missed my friends from far away more than anything. I would spend nights crying because I just wanted to see my best friend (the one I watched LOTR with at the beach). It was during that time that I learned that my mom had a miscarriage when I was young, and I mourned for that child. I know, it sounds weird, but I couldn’t help but wonder what life would have been like with him around. He would only have been a year and a half younger than me. I thought of all the siblings in my favorite books and wondered what adventures he and I would have gotten into, what friends we would have shared, and what our favorite things to do would have been.
This sounds like a really dark time, and some of it was. But I didn’t live a miserable life. I did have friends who lived nearby, and we made some amazing memories together that I’ll never forget (and even if I wanted to, in this day and age, we have video proof. We’re going to regret that someday, I’m convinced of it). I loved my family, and I stood up for my sister as we learned about her disabilities. I had an amazing church family, and as I grew up, I started really investing in my passion for writing. I had a good childhood.
But I still had my lonely moments, and you know what? Looking back, I don’t regret them. It was in them that I learned sehnsucht.
I’m sure that by now, you know what sehnsucht is, but I’m still going to give my favorite definition of it: in the words of C.S. Lewis, it is “…an unsatisfied desire which is itself more desirable than any other satisfaction.” I don’t think I’ve ever read a C.S. Lewis book where he didn’t reference this desire in some way.
I think the first time I ever encountered anything like sehnsucht was when reading the last chapters of The Last Battle. It’s always the worst part of a book when you have to say goodbye to the characters. But, (spoiler alert!) when everyone is reunited at the end of Narnia, it always fills me with excitement. Now that I’m older, I understand that excitement better: It’s a longing for reunion with all those I’ve had to say goodbye to.
When I think of all the times I’ve been overcome with sehnsucht, there are two reasons for it that come to mind: one is when I’m broken with my own sin and I long to be made perfect. The other is when I’m lonely.
When I was grieving for my brother, I held onto the hope of seeing him again in heaven with everything in me. When I missed my best friend, I comforted myself with the thought that, just like Sam followed Frodo to Valinor, she and I would one day be in heaven together and have eternity to enjoy our friendship. I think of that scene in The Last Battle when the garden gate opens and you-know-who steps out, and I can’t wait for that kind of reunion.
But even as I think about these things, sometimes I feel guilty. Shouldn’t I long for heaven because I want to be with Jesus, not because I want to be with other people?
I recently heard a teaching on 2 Timothy, and the pastor stopped on these verses: “I thank God, whom I serve from my forefathers with pure conscience, that without searching I have remembrance of thee in my prayers night and day; greatly desiring to see thee, being mindful of thy tears, that I may be filled with joy…” (2 Timothy 1:3-4). That really stuck out to me. I mean, that was the Apostle Paul! Wasn’t he the great one who was willing to give up everything the world had to offer for Jesus? Wasn’t he beyond the point of earthly friendships?
Though I never knew that’s how I thought of Paul, apparently that was the mindset I had. It occurred to me recently that he was human, just like us, and he missed people, just like I do. Paul expressed something similar in 1 Thessalonians 2, and that repetition of his longing for his brothers and sisters in Christ encourages me.
I don’t believe for a moment that it’s wrong to long to see everyone we love in heaven. It will be the one place where the people I wish could all be together finally will be. There will be a joy of reunion when I see my great-grandparents for the first time since I was little and when I finally meet my brother. But again, Lewis expresses it the best in The Last Battle. Along with the excitement of reunion will be the most overwhelming joy of all when I see Jesus for the first time.
When I traveled to Israel last fall, I stood at the Western Wall in Jerusalem, watching the Jewish women worship and put their written prayers in the cracks of the wall. I joined them and stuffed my paper in, wondering how long it will be there and if anyone will ever find it. As I did, I was struck with how distant worship on earth seems. We’re praying to a God we can’t see, and even with a personal relationship with Jesus, I feel far away. I opened my Bible and read from Revelation 21, and I was struck with the words of verse 22: “And I saw no temple therein: for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the temple of it.”
No more distant worship. No more wondering if I’m really being heard or if my tears are only being received by empty air. No more crying out and asking where God is in the loneliness.
That, my friends, will be the ultimate reunion, when I look for the first time on the One I’ve prayed to and sought after my whole life.
What more can I say? All I know is to end with the words of the Apostle John as he saw the vision of the heavenly city:
“Even so, come, Lord Jesus.”
*Quote from The Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkien
Image credits: Cosette 😄
Wow, Cosette. This was powerful. Well done, and thank you for sharing.
Oh. My. GOODNESS. Cosette. This was beautiful!😭
Wow, I really related to this! I also was an only child until I was eight (I had my ninth birthday in Poland as we adopted my sisters), and experienced many years of loneliness with friends moving away during that time. Thank you so much for sharing, Cosette 🙂