Rev. Chris Furr, Covenant Christian Church, "What We Need Is Here: Friendship and the Epidemic of Loneliness"

 

What We Need Is Here:
Friendship and the Epidemic of Loneliness

 

---Rev. Chris Furr

 

 

There are so many wonderful gifts that come with being a clergyperson, especially one that works in a congregational setting. I recently crossed the ten-year mark in my current ministry setting, and I am seeing the fruits of deep relationships with people, formed over time. I have watched children grow up, watched loving couples grow old together, seen people make important life changes, and most importantly, seen people grow in their faith and step into their callings. We pastors are invited into some of the most sacred moments of people’s lives: when they are grieving loved ones, navigating a sudden career change, welcoming children into the world. It is a profound privilege, and I experience the blessings of it often. For many of us, this is what keeps us going in ministry and what drew us to it in the first place.

Of course, being a pastor can also be an extremely lonely vocation. We spend a lot of time forming relationships with people who aren’t exactly friends, but also much more than co-workers or acquaintances. Because these relationships are so important to the work we do, we give a lot of our time and energy to them, making it difficult to create space for relationships with people who don’t know us as pastor. I was at a pastor’s conference recently where the speaker shared that the rate of depression is significantly higher among pastors than it is among the general population. There are many reasons for this, but it seems to me that a significant one is the sense of isolation we clergy often feel. Our work is unique—which can be a great blessing in our lives, and also a source of separation from others.

We serve a larger culture that is profoundly isolated from one another. Vivek Murthy, our current surgeon general, has spent a great deal of his tenure focusing on loneliness as a public health crisis in America. The statistics bear out a reality that many who have worked in the mental health field, or advocated for mental health care, already knew—mental health has a profound impact on the body. We tend to think of our mental health as something separate from the rest of our health. Our cholesterol levels can be measured and our organs scanned, we can have surgery to correct broken limbs or worn-out joints, but mental health struggles are harder to identify. Mental health, however, is physical health. Dr. Murthy’s advisory cites research that says loneliness leads to a 29% increase in risk for heart disease, a 32% increased risk for stroke, and a 50% increased risk for dementia in seniors. Those who lack social connection are at a 60% higher risk for premature death. Consider this: lacking social connection has a similar health impact to smoking 15 cigarettes a day! Perhaps this is why, at that same pastor’s conference, the presenter shared that clergy received a risk rating similar to coal miners when one mainline denomination went to secure group health insurance. When we don’t attend to our unseen needs, the things that feed us mentally and spiritually, and our mental health begins to suffer, ultimately it is the body that tells the story. The number of people who feel this loss of connection is staggering—1 in 2, and Dr. Murthy says the rates are even higher among young people.

In one sense, we are more connected than ever before. I can communicate easily and regularly with friends who live halfway around the world, often with audio and video and in real time. I am old enough to remember when the best option was the use of a calling card with a 2-3 second delay on each end of the phone, so this is still amazing to me. On recent travels, I went looking for postcards, only to have a hard time even finding one to send: why do that when you can send a picture of your own choosing instantaneously? I have multiple text threads that see active conversation almost daily, with clergy friends and college roommates and family, which is much more frequent communication than we might have without mobile devices. Young people make use of this technology more than their parents and grandparents, certainly, and yet, they are among those who feel the weight of isolation more than any others. We should be asking why this is, and what impact it is having on mental health in our communities, especially with our young people. 

I’m not interested in diminishing the kind of real connection that technology makes possible, because many continue to find meaningful connection with people online. These connections make it possible to receive support from others who share your struggles but aren’t in close proximity to you or may not even be known to you otherwise. All of us survived the isolation of the COVID-19 pandemic with the use of technology, which allowed us share everything from worship services to birthday parties to support groups, which we so desperately needed. Despite all its redeeming qualities, it seems that technology tricks us into believing we are connected, when it fact, these are not the kind that meet our deepest needs. We want to see and be seen by others, but social media invites us to curate an identity that fits with what’s trending, and our true selves never really make it to the screen. The result is people who don’t feel known or seen by others, and the results we are seeing are signs that we are missing something we cannot survive without. Dr. Murthy says we get hungry and we get thirsty because these are deep human needs; we are feeling this sense of isolation because we need connection in the same way. Our bodies are crying out for it. 

There are other signs of our isolation from one another. Our politics tell the story of a deeply fractured American public that has an increasingly difficult time understanding one another’s lives. I have witnessed this in anecdotal ways—yes, on social media--in the days after the election. One friend voiced fear and anxiety related to the results, and another person asked (genuinely I believe), why someone would feel that way. One suggested reaching out to people who were upset by the results and received the response “I don’t know anyone who isn’t pleased.” Again, these are anecdotal examples, but they speak to the echo chambers that our most used means of connection make possible. We have managed to sort ourselves into silos, and this is not the way human beings are meant to interact. As a result, we lose our ability to sympathize—to truly understand how another person feels, even if we do not share that feeling personally. 

All of this amounts to a calling that can and should be answered by our faith communities. Many of the congregations we lead and belong to spend a lot of time thinking about the particular mission and ministry we should be engaged in, studying demographics and needs, thinking about creative ways to hold worship services or reach people we aren’t currently seeing show up on Sundays. But we are living in a time when people are desperate for true friendship, and one of the great gifts of authentic community is the gift of friendship. As a young person, I can remember the church I grew up in going through several very sudden, traumatic deaths in close proximity to one another. When that time came, my parents and many other adults in the church had the instinct to just gather with one another. They turned to one another when they experienced that pain and loss because of the bonds of friendship that been forged in seemingly mundane and stereotypical congregational events—backyard cookouts and coed volleyball leagues. 

In this season, I am seeing the work of ministry as creating space for friendship. Not casual relationships that pass for friendship, but real, authentic community where folks can show up as they are, where the pain of isolation so many feel can find room for healing. I imagine the intimacy of the early church in Acts, where Luke tells us that “they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, the breaking of bread and the prayers” how they were together and held all things in common (Acts 2:42-47). How do we create spaces for people to connect deeply with one another? How do we create networks of care and support that respond to the epidemic of loneliness that is affecting the wellness of individual bodies and the larger body to which we all belong? How can we, who understand all the complexities and difficulties of ministry, lead the people we serve to the simple gift of friendship? A hurting, lonely world cries out for gifts we have to offer. 

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Rev. Chris Furr is the pastor at Covenant Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in Cary, NC and author of the book Straight White Male: A Faith-Based Guide to Deconstructing Your Privilege and Living with Integrity from WJK Press. He lives in Cary with his wife, Katie, and their two sons. You can learn more about his work at www.chrisfurr.com

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The Clergy and Mental Health Blog is a forum for faith leaders to share insights and observations, sometimes speaking from personal experience, about faith and mental health.  We welcome diversity of thought and perspective.  The view of authors are their own and do not represent the views of the blog as a whole.

 

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