THE LEGEND OF THE LONE CHRISTIAN

Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another – and all the more as you see the Day approaching. (Hebrews 10:25, NIV)

Do your remember the Lone Ranger? He’s the guy in Western lore who lives by himself. A tower of strength and virtue, he communes with His maker in the desert, entering society only to rescue those weaker than him, a silver bullet the only evidence he was ever there.

The Lone Ranger is a myth with a very real counterpart in Christianity – the Lone Christian (whom I’ll refer to as “he” for the sake of simplicity and because the Lone Christian seems more often male than female, though women aren’t exempt). The Lone Christian, too, sees himself as a tower of spiritual strength and virtue. He stands aloof from other Christians, usually having seen the faults of the Church and probably been hurt by them. He rejects the idea that he needs another fallible human to tell him what God is like, and seeks instead to know God on his terms. He enters Christian society only to rescue someone he perceives as being in distress, leaving behind only a silver nugget of his wisdom as he vanishes with a cloud of dust and a hearty “Hi-yo, Spirit!”

The Lone Christian seems like a noble creature. We envy his lack of reliance on any except God, and, at one time or another, at least secretly aspire to be like him. But have you ever really tried being the Lone Christian? I have. And I’ll let you in on a little secret: It doesn’t work.

Sure, everything’s fine at first. After all, getting off alone with God is a necessary part of our lives with Him – whether it’s for a few minutes (or an hour) of prayer and Bible study every day, or a longer period of intensive healing. But the Lone Christian doesn’t stop with this. He goes for long periods without the company of other Christians, except possibly on Sunday mornings, and even then his presence is more physical then emotional. He can’t avoid other Christians entirely if he has a believing family, but even with them he becomes spiritually distant, sometimes drawing them into isolation with him. After he pulls farther and farther away from the company of others, his solitary times become no longer times of communication with God and times of healing, but times of brooding over wrongs, real and imagined. And, eventually, his resentments shift from others to God Himself.

We were created to be social. Some of us are, of course, more social than others, but we were never intended for isolation. Biologically, psychologically, and spiritually, we need others. Yet while the biological and psychological needs are so widely recognized that those who deny them are almost automatically considered abnormal, the spiritual need is often acknowledged only in passing. But God calls us a body – and when have you ever seen a head rolling along happily by itself, or a single foot hopping blissfully down the street?

Fellowship isn’t easy. We’ve all been hurt in the past by others, and we’ll all be hurt again in the future. It seems so simple just to withdraw and avoid the pain. But those who refuse to risk the pain will never be in a position to receive the joy. Those who will not love cannot be loved; those who will reach out cannot themselves be touched. People are sinful by nature; we will hurt each other by chance and by choice. That’s why God provided a system of checks and balances. By being open to correction and extending forgiveness, the pain of relationships can be kept to a minimum. And those of us who have been on both sides can tell you from experience that there is no escaping pain by withdrawing. The pain just grows and is joined by new pains brought on by loneliness and isolation. For some, that pain is the lesser. They are the exceptions, and God has different ways of healing them. But for the rest of us, His will is clear.

“Let us not give up meeting together”, admonished the writer to the Hebrews. The means will vary from church to church and from age to age. Most churches have, in addition to their corporate meetings (usually Sunday mornings with Sunday evenings and Wednesday evenings added in larger churches), weekly small groups that meet in members’ houses. A lot of churches have additional “specialized” groups – groups for men only, for women only, for teens only, for singles, for specific age groups, etc. But the opportunities don’t stop there. We need to share more of our lives together, in twos and threes and larger groups. This can be something as simple as two people getting together for coffee once a week. Or it can be an informal gathering to play games, a potluck, or a party. Or it can be something a little more “organized”: Christmas shopping expeditions to the nearest major city; formal dinner parties for three or four couples; weekend “mini-retreats”; monthly breakfast gatherings for men (served up by the women) or for women (served up by the men). The possibilities are limited only by the number of people who want to get involved and the number of ideas they can generate.

I’m aware, of course, of what former Inter-Varsity Christian Fellowship director Charles E. Hummel once called “the tyranny of the urgent” (a term he coined back in 1967). We have our families, our homes, our jobs, our classes, our hobbies, our sports, our recreation activities, and – of course – our personal relationships with God. It may seem that the last thing we have time for is fellowship. Yet when you consider that it’s primarily through people that God chooses to work out His will, it becomes essential that we meet with (or at least talk to) each other, and not just once or twice a week. Think about it: We give 40 or more hours each week to jobs that will, in the eternal picture, be completely meaningless, while we begrudge a tenth of that time for developing relationships with ambassadors of God with whom we’ll be spending eternity. Am I the only one who sees something lopsided here?

We need each other. Hey, even the Lone Ranger had his faithful Indian companion, Tonto. How in the world did we become so arrogant as to think we could do it all on our own?