You may sometimes feel lonely and afraid, wondering if anyone really cares for you; you may feel abandoned to wander about in your heartache, without a sense of acceptance or “place” for your life; you may feel estranged from others, in a place of desperation, a silent scream, without apparent comfort in the world… These are real feelings and I do not discount them, though often such feelings arise from unbelief, or at least from questioning whether God’s love is for you, after all…
Friend, there is an intimate comfort for your mourning; there is heavenly consolation for the grief and emptiness you feel inside. Look again to the cross and attend to God’s passion for you; believe in the miracle of Yeshua’s love for you; by faith see his blood shed for you… He knows your alienation: he was “despised and rejected of men”; he knows the pains of your heart: he was a “man of sorrows acquainted with grief”; he knows the heartache of being forsaken, abandoned, and utterly betrayed. Indeed Yeshua knows your infirmities; he understands how you hurt and calls you to his comfort… Therefore when feelings of loneliness well up within you, go inward to commune with the Spirit. Ask God for his consolation so that you too might console others who are suffering (2 Cor. 1:3-4). Do not lose hope but foresee your blessed future. Focus on the coming day of healing for all the world. Remind yourself again and again that you are never really alone, that nothing can separate you from God’s love, and that God’s Name is “I-am-with-you-always,” “I am your Abba, your true home and place of belonging, all your dreams of love will come true, and unimaginable beauty and endless delight await you in the glories of the world to come.”
Whoever has God truly has a companion in all places, both on the street and among people.. Why is this so? It is because such people posses God alone, keeping their gaze fixed upon him, and thus all things reveal God for them…. Such people bear God in all their deeds and in the places they go, and it is God alone who is the author of all they do.” (Meister Eckhart: Talks of Instruction)
You will never experience peace as long as you regard the acceptance of who you are as conditional, since you will only be as secure as your own best efforts, a project that will exhaust you in the end. Instead you must know yourself as truly loved by God, just as the “prodigal son” came to know his father’s unconditional love and acceptance despite his many misdeeds (Luke 15:11-32). The incarnation of Jesus means that God “runs to meet and embrace you,” regardless of whatever happened in your life that made you run away from home. And whatever else it may be, sin is the separation from God’s love, but Yeshua made the decision to die for your sins before you were born. Your sin cannot overrule God’s surpassing and personal love for your soul, since God gave up his very life for you to find life.
A.W. Tozer once wrote: “The loneliness of the Christian results from his walk with God in an ungodly world, a walk that must often take him away from the fellowship of good Christians as well as from that of the unregenerate world. His God-given instincts cry out for companionship with others of his kind, others who can understand his longings, his aspirations, his absorptions in the love of Christ; and because with his circle of friends there are few who share his inner experiences, he’s forced to walk alone. The unsatisfied longings of the prophets for human understanding caused them to cry out in their complaint, and even our Lord himself suffered in the same way.
“The man (or woman) who has passed on into the divine Presence in actual inner experience will not find many who understand him. He finds few who care to talk about that which is the supreme object of his interest, so he is often silent and preoccupied in the midst of noisy religious shoptalk. For this he earns the reputation of being dull and over-serious, so he is avoided, and the gulf between him and society widens. He searches for the friends upon whose garments he can detect the smell of myrrh and aloes and cassia out of the ivory palaces, and finding few or none, he, like Mary of old, keeps these things in his heart. It is this very loneliness that throws him back upon God. His inability to find human companionship drives him to seek in God what he can find nowhere else.”
Such was Abraham’s test, as he had no way to communicate his burden regarding the sacrifice of his beloved son Isaac. And there is also a loneliness that arises when you must wrestle through disappointment in your walk with God… This is an empty place where you realize that you’re request has been denied, and yet you must continue to walk on in trust. That is a hard place, too.
“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness” (Matt. 5:6). Yes, blessed are those who suffer such desperate need, who know inner emptiness, who are not made numb to the ache, and who cry from the heart for deliverance. Blessed are those who are in dread over themselves, who fall as one dead before the Divine Presence, who know they are undone, ruined, and dying for life… The great danger, spiritually speaking, is to become complacent, untouched by poverty of heart, to be lulled asleep, lost within a dream, made comatose, living-yet-dead. The gift of faith first reveals our own lostness and then imparts courage to live with ourselves despite ourselves as we seek God’s healing and life…
“The fear of the LORD is the first principle of knowledge, but fools despise wisdom and correction” (Prov. 1:7). In this “Daily Dvar” broadcast (see audio below) I discuss how reverence or respect is axiomatic for a genuinely good life. Fearing God expresses the confidence that life is a sacred trust and that each soul is answerable to the Creator. Such godly reverence infers that nothing is trivial or inconsequential, and that all things will be accounted before the bar of divine truth. I hope you will find it helpful, friends.
Our father Abraham is called ha-ivri (הָעִבְרִי) – “the Hebrew,” a term that means “one who has crossed over” (עָבַר) from another place (Gen. 14:13). The famous medieval Torah commentator Rashi literally identified this “other place” as Ur Kasdim (אוּר כַּשְׂדִים), located east of the Euphrates River, though the midrash (Genesis Rabbah) spiritually identified it as the realm of idolatry: “The whole world stood on one side, but Abram crossed over to the other.” Abram separated himself from a world steeped in idolatry and polytheism by worshipping One God who is the sole Creator of all things…. Understood in this way, being “Hebrew” means being regarded as an “other,” a “stranger,” or an “outsider” to idolatrous worldly culture. Therefore all those who “cross over” from the realm of death to life because of Yeshua are rightly called “Hebrews” (John 5:24).
“If a person vows a vow (i.e., neder: נֶדֶר) to the LORD, or swears an oath (i.e., shevuah: שְׁבוּעָה) to bind himself by a pledge, he shall not break his word. He shall do according to all that proceeds out of his mouth” (Num. 30:2). The Hebrew expression “break his word” literally means “profane his word” (יַחֵל דְּבָרוֹ), that is, to defile the soul by causing it to be inwardly divided, irresolute, and cowardly. After all, breaking your word means violating the integrity of who you are, showing that what you say and what you do are not unified, and this leads to feelings of shame. Your words confess your reality and bring it to life… If you cannot keep your word, your word becomes profane, empty, lost — you become a “stranger to yourself,” unsure of what you intend. “Let your “yes” be yes and your “no” be no; learn to say what you mean and mean what you say (Matt. 5:37).
The Hebrew word “spirit” (i.e., ruach: רוּחַ) points to wonder, to something extraordinary and beyond our expectation, that is, to the mysterious Divine Presence that pervades all things yet rises above all things. Yeshua likened the ruach with the inscrutable motions of the wind. He said, “The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit” (John 3:8). We see the effects of the wind, but not the wind itself, which illustrates that the wind surrounds us yet is ultimately beyond our grasp and control. To be “born of the Spirit” is therefore a mysterious intervention from heaven (John 1:13), just as being “led by the Spirit” implies seeing differently, that is, apprehending the Divine Presence in the mysterious motions of life.
From our Torah portion this week (i.e., 
“Speak to the children of Israel, and say unto them, ‘When ye are passed over into the land of promise… drive away all the inhabitants of the land before you; destroy all their carved images, all their molten images, and demolish their high places’” (Num. 33:51-52). The Hebrew word for idolatry is “avodah zarah” (עֲבוֹדָה זַרָה), which literally means strange or “foreign” worship… The worship of anything other than the true God, whether it is pleasure, money, fame, control, security, self-improvement, health, religion, etc., is regarded as foreign, since it alienates us from the truth of reality. We were created to be in relationship with God but we lose sight of this truth whenever elevate what is finite to the status of the infinite. Indeed idolatry is the substitution of not-god (לא־אֵל) for the sacred, absolutizing the present and worshiping the temporal. Since our greatest good is found in the eternal verities of the divine communion, the Lord cannot give us an absolute good apart from Him, since there literally is no such thing. “No one can serve two masters,” Yeshua said, and “a divided house cannot stand.” For our own good, then, God necessarily is the Ultimate Concern of our life, and he wants to spare us the pain, disappointment, and trauma of being double-minded, disintegrated, and full of inner conflict. Spiritual warfare therefore means taking every thought captive before the bar of God’s truth, rooting out and destroying all our inner idols so that we can be delivered from the anguish of uncertainty and ambivalence.
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil…” (Psalm 23:4). O God of Light, Light of the world, surely You know my need for light as I look to You, especially when darkness tries to extinguish my hope. Despite my inability to see you now, help me to know that you are with me; let “thy rod and thy staff comfort me” and lead me closer to you. Lord, when I am afraid, quicken the faith you have put within my heart. Be Thou my Shepherd in my darkness, O Lord my God…
The theology of our Messiah insists that truth matters, and that knowing the truth about God is absolutely essential for life itself. Nothing is more important; nothing is more vital. As Yeshua solemnly affirmed: “This is eternal life (חַיֵּי עוֹלָם), that they may know you, the only true God (אֶל־אֱמֶת), and Yeshua the Messiah (יֵשׁוּעַ הַמָּשִׁיחַ) whom you have sent (John 17:3). Note that the Hebrew word for knowledge is da’at (דַּעַת), a word that implies intimate cognitive differentiation and the apprehension of spiritual reality. Your life is a venture of faith, an irrepeatable, infinitely costly venture.
The message of the cross of Messiah is that your deepest need for love, peace, and happiness is not to be found in this world, nor in the religious philosophies of this world, but instead is found by being healed from the sickness of spiritual death. That’s the gospel message, after all, which presents an offense to the “flesh,” that is, to natural human pride and humanistic aspiration. Indeed many religious people seem to think that something more is needed than the miracle of Messiah, and they therefore both underestimate the severity of our lost condition while flattering the ego with the conceit that it can contribute something to prospect of genuine eternal life… The Apostle Paul admonished: “If with the Messiah you died to the axioms of this world, why, as though you still belonged to the world, do you submit to its presuppositions (i.e., δόγματα)?” (Col. 2:20). Religious “legalism” (i.e., adherence to formula or ritual rather than living in personal faith) is a worldly practice that leads to a false sense of security in the mantras, ceremonies, “virtue signaling,” theological jargon, and various “mummeries” of religion. Worse still may such worldly religion lead to a “holier-than-thou” sense of spiritual superiority or elitism. Yeshua denounced the religionists of his day by focusing on what mattered most of all — healing the outcasts, touching the lepers, seeking the lost, and being a “friend of tax collectors and sinners” (Matt. 11:19). Focusing on outer forms of religion — even Torah based religion — elevates the law to an end in itself rather than as a means to the greater end of love and healing. We have to be careful not to make an idol out of religious practices, for all the commandments are meant to serve the end of receiving God’s love and sharing that blessing with others. Any “Torah observance” that leads you to “thank God that you are not like other people” (Luke 18:11) is therefore not genuine Torah observance at all, for the heart of the Torah is love, just as love is the Torah of the Gospel (John 15:12).