An Isolationist’s Confession

I have to admit that I am somewhat of an isolationist. Although I don’t mean this in the sense of the political definition of the word, which is to separate one’s self to focus on a country’s own interests and avoid entanglements that would jeopardize peace, it seems to apply on a small scale to my life. When things become difficult, I have always found myself pursuing peace (usually my own and that of my family—i.e. my “country”) at all costs. Conflict is so repulsive to me that I avoid it studiously, often to my own detriment. I pull back into my own “country” (my family) and focus on our health and well-being until all is right again with my little world. When the problem is inside my little world and it cannot be easily fixed, I find that it rocks me to the core. Then isolationism becomes my modus operandi. I find myself compelled (or at least longing severely) to withdraw from the conflict and the swirling emotions.

It is interesting to me that as I had this thought, as I often do when thinking about words and ideas that I would look up the term. However, I could not find the term isolation or isolationist in either the Noah Webster 1828 or 1913 dictionary. I suppose it was a term not in vogue at that time, as this predates the historical context of isolationism from the world wars that followed too closely behind a hard won peace. Webster’s telling definition of the root word, isolate, follows: “To place in a detached situation; to place by itself; to insulate” (Webster’s 1828 online dictionary). The word is a transitive verb. For those of you who are not immersed daily in the world of grammar and are not the least bit interested, let me refresh your memory anyway. A transitive verb is an action verb that takes an object. I find this relevant because I find that I am isolating myself from something or someone, which is the rub. Whether a country, a city, a church, a family, a person…no matter who you are, there just are certain things you cannot avoid through a policy of isolation. It seems I’d learn from others’ experiences here and just quit trying, but no, I’m rather hardheaded about such things. So, when convicted of my hardheadedness, I finally head to the Scriptures for inspiration and some much needed spiritual repair.

I first thought of Solomon, who ironically was not a very isolated person. (How can you be with so many wives and concubines and people clamoring from all over the world for your wisdom?) Yet his thoughts about oppression in Solomon’s writing made me think that when we see something wrong, we cannot thrive by simply avoiding the conflict, even if I do sometimes agree with Solomon that it would have been better (maybe easier?) to never have been born than to see all “the evil activity under the sun” (Ecclesiastes 4:3b, NASB). Solomon goes on in that chapter to speak words of encouragement for us when we feel the pull to pull away from the world in which we have been divinely paced by God:

“Two are better than one because they have a good return for their labor. For if either of them falls, the one will life up his companion. But woe to the one who falls when there is not another to lift him up. Furthermore, if two lie down together they keep warm, but how can one be warm alone? And if one can overpower him who is alone, two can resist him. A cord of three strands is not quickly torn apart” (Ecclesiastes 4:9-12).

A proverb also came to mind when I began contemplating yet again my bent toward being alone—even craving it at times. Proverbs 18:1 convicts me with these words: “Whoever isolates himself seeks his own desire; he breaks out against all sound judgment” (ESV). This is not an easy thing to see or understand about oneself. I am seeing that what I do when things get hard is tantamount to quitting the body, but my struggle is to stop doing so. I Corinthians Ch. 12 makes it clear that in Christ we are one body with many members functioning for His glory—or dysfunctioning and cheating Him of that glory when we do not work together. The whole book of I Corinthians reminds us that “we were bought with a price,” and that “we are not our own” (I Cor. 6:19-20). It is good, as Paul says, to pursue “righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit” (Rom. 14:18) but it should be done to build one another up instead of withdrawing or tearing down.

Today, a dear friend called seeking encouragement, but I found that I received just as much encouragement. Had I been in isolation (even if through the business of my rush-rush world) today, that would never have happened. I would have missed the chance to offer her encouragement while being built up and encouraged at the same time. I am so slow to grasp the obvious sometimes. I am so forgetful  of what I know sometimes. I am a sinner saved by grace slogging through the miry pits I am encountering in this world. My confession is this: I cannot do it alone. If you see me trying, will you call me on it?