It means staying in bed late on Sunday mornings, dreading going to church because you don’t feel like you can do it today. It means purposely avoiding people you like because you don’t want to accidentally do something awkward and make them hate you. It means hating yourself over and over again as in your mind you replay the slip-ups you committed during what would have otherwise been a normal social interaction that morning, 12 hours ago.
I know these things because I've been there—I know what it's like to feel alone.
I recently watched Dear Evan Hansen, a Broadway musical-turned Hollywood film depicting Social Anxiety Disorder (also known as SAD, because it is) at its worst, with all the raw hopelessness that surrounds it. In the midst of the darkness, it shows hope shining through. At least, it tries to; the film affirms honesty, and is true to itself in the sense that it shows that a life built on lies cannot stand forever. But the story is underwhelming in that it shows us no concrete reason for hope; no real reason anything can change for the lonely and brokenhearted. We needed a happy ending, and Dear Evan Hansen only almost gives that to us.
The thing I love most about Dear Evan Hansen (aside from the phenomenal music), is that it has a uniquely Christian message at its heart: you, me, every social butterfly, every wallflower, and everyone in between—we all matter. Which doesn’t make sense from a purely secular perspective. After all, some of us contribute more to the good of society than others. Some of us are more fun, more confident, and have more friends than others. The idea that we all matter, that we are all equal in worth and dignity, is nonsensical from a purely horizontal perspective.
You, me, every social butterfly, every wallflower, and everyone in between—we all matter.
But God sees not as man sees. Entering upon the vertical perspective that Christianity gives us shows us that we all matter because we are all made in the image of God, and He loves each and every one of us, even if we don’t love ourselves or don’t feel like others love us. We are not alone because He has told us He will always be with us, “even to the end of the world.” Sometimes we feel like our world has ended long before it’s begun, but He is there regardless. He is always there.
So maybe sometimes you feel forgotten—He is the One Who holds you in the palm of His hand and has a plan for your life from beginning to end. Maybe sometimes you feel unseen, but He is the God Who Sees the broken in their darkest moment. Maybe sometimes you feel lost forever, but He has already found You, and He loves you.
I hope in Christ, and the New Creation that He is ushering in, day-by-day. Someday, the light will come streaming in and we will rise again, into a world that is born out of the shadows and into the breaking morning of the light of day. In this world we will have trouble, but He has overcome the world, and He will make it new.