Christ is enough for me. These were the words of a worship song we sang in church this weekend. But if this was true, why did I feel so lonely?

Do you ever get in one of those moods? Those pity-party kind of funky-funk-funks when nothing seems right in the world? And you feel completely alone in it all? 

Yeah. Me too. 

Sometimes it's the smallest trigger that leads to an avalanche of pity-dom, exemplified by my latest slide. Even the talk-out-loud-to-myself-while-alone-in-my-house pep talk couldn't stop my skid down the slope.

By Sunday morning I was the epitome of someone who'd woken up on the wrong side of the bed. I could feel it. The sludge. The slime. The muck. Every ounce of energy zapped from my bones. My mind and body moving through fog.

Attempting to shield my family from the venom that flows freely from my mouth when I'm in this dark place, I chose silence. Truthfully, that choice probably spoke louder than my words would have. It was deafening. 

Through the fog, however, I heard music. Literally. As we were nearing church, an old, but familiar song played. 

You are all I need when I'm surrounded
You are all I need if I'm by myself
You fill me when I'm empty
There is nothing else
You're all I need

This was followed by another song with the same title. For what seemed like an eternity, every time I looked at the dashboard of the car, the words "All I Need" taunted me. I was getting the message.

But I didn't like it. 

God punctuated His words to me during the opening worship set.

Christ is enough for me
Everything I need is in You
Everything I need

Ugh. 

I still argued in my head. And heart. There was something in the Truth of this that wasn't complete. A piece was missing. A gap.

And then it hit me.

Christ IS enough. He IS all I need.

But sometimes I just need Him with skin on. I need to experience Him in the flesh. Down here on earth. In my day-to-day life. In community. Through people.  

I need people.  

I need to feel His physical hands as they embrace me in celebration or comfort and experience His companionship on otherwise mundane trips to Target or the grocery store.  

I need to hear His audible words of wisdom as they encourage me, laugh with me, challenge me, or plan with me. 

I need to see His patient face as He smiles at my stream-of-consciousness talking about ideas, plans, and hopes for the future (as though He doesn't already know what all that holds for me...).     

I need to share a cup of coffee with Jesus.    

Most of my life is spent alone. I work from home, write from home, coach from home, and often shop from home (thanks, Amazon!). I am alone. 

Some days I like it. I can think, write, deliberate, and breathe. I'm an introvert. It suits me just fine.  

Other days... and seasons... I'm overwhelmed with loneliness. I spin, blame, regret, and fight for every breath.

Don't get me wrong. I do glimpse the skin-on Jesus, too. Sometimes I think I live with Him. I call him Kevin. He's the ever-patient and kind husband I drag on all those dull errands with me, even when he'd rather just stay home after a long day at work. He listens patiently as I change plans, directions, and aspirations. He tells me I'm awesome. He is the hands, mouth, and face of Jesus I take for granted far too often.

In my selfishness though, I just want more of the skin-on kind of Jesus (cue my inner 2-year-old tantrum self). No, I don't just want it, I need it. 

We weren't made to live life alone. He made us for two kinds of relationships... with Him and with others. I'm doing okay in the "with Him" part right now but not so well in the "with others" part.

In a way that God always does, He's brought me skin-on people this week. He's reminded me that physical location isn't always the barrier I make it out to be and that sometimes it just takes a bit of creativity, and new glasses (the more rose-colored kind), to see what He's already given me. 

Christ is enough for me.... especially when He has skin.