The thing that only you can do
the singular journey that we're all called to walk
“I’m starting to realize that we are alone on this journey to becoming who we are. It doesn’t necessarily mean we are lonely, but we are asked to do it alone. I guess what I mean is that it is a singular journey.”
These words came spilling out of me yesterday during a session with my therapist.
Aloneness gets a bad rap. For many of us, it evokes feelings of isolation and abandonment.
I believe what we’re really afraid of isn’t being alone, but rather being lonely.
For those of you who follow the Christian liturgical calendar, or even if you don’t, you may know that we are in a spiritual season called Lent. These 40 days that precede the celebration of Easter holds various meanings and rituals for Christians around the world — repentance, humility, reflection, fasting, service to others — but the core theme of this season, when we get really honest, is death.
Lent is inspired by Christ’s own 40 days of fasting in the desert prior to the events that led to his crucifixion. This season of dying to one’s self and one’s desires reminds us that there is no resurrection or rebirth — there is no Easter morning — without death.
Many of the crucial elements of Christ’s journey toward “becoming” were spent independently: his time in the temple away from his parents whenever he was 13; his fasting and temptation in the desert; the many periods he withdraw from the disciples and crowds to pray; and, ultimately, the journey to the cross, which had to be done by him alone, with even God the Father turning away from him at one point.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve had hard conversations with family about old secrets and wounds that I’ve worked hard to heal. Exposing darkness to the light really does bring redemption.
Yesterday, as I reflected on the past 18 months of intense inner work that I’ve done, I was overwhelmed with gratitude for the wholeness I now feel.
Don’t mishear me — we need people. I need people.
I’ve been (and continue to be) so blessed to be surrounded by many loving and supportive voices.
This path has not been lonely, but I have had to walk it alone.
I’ve had to to face fears. wounds. trauma. identities. hard truths. decisions. people. stories — all independently.
This singular journey, walking close to my creator, as I shed who I was for who I am, and also who I’m becoming, has been the most transformative of my life yet.
Near the end of our session, my therapist asked how I felt about myself hearing my own recounting of where I am today. My eyes swelled with tears, and I answered her: “I’m proud because today I’m an overcomer. I’m victorious. And I stand in the power of my whole self, with God’s help.”
In your becoming, there is a thing that only you can do. This thing of becoming who we are. Fulfilling our purpose. Walking our path toward what we’re put on this planet to do. It must be done by you alone. Not by your friends, not by your family or parents, and not even by your spouse.
Our souls are asked to walk a singular journey, with our creator, toward the purpose he gives each one of us.
I won’t lie. This paradigm is hard to accept. It’s easier to run from transformation. To “numb out” from the quiet, inner voice that’s calling you to die to your ego and become someone who’s closer to your true self. It’s easier to hide in identities, roles, norms, and stories. To bury ourselves in relationships and dynamics, rather than listening to our own hearts.
This one thing that you alone can do is become who you were created to be.
I hope you do.
I pray you have the courage to lay down who you’ve been or who others have expected you to be, and listen to who and what God made you for.
I urge you to draw close to your creator. He, and all of creation, are rooting for you. This world needs you to become who you were made to be. We need more of who you are. We want your full self.
It is a singular journey, but don’t worry, it’s not a lonely one.