The Truest Friend Stays With You At Rock Bottom

I dwell . . . with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit. (Isa. 57:15)

There’s a reason solitary confinement is considered such a cruel punishment. Loneliness is hellish torment. But God sees us. He cares about us when we’ve hit rock bottom in our deepest sadness and loneliness.

The Word ‘With’ Matters

To people like us, the little word “with” is worth a lot: “With him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit.” That word is perfect for lonely people. It declares God’s presence, his nearness, his loyalty, his advocacy, his solidarity right where we need him. He isn’t off at a distance, detached like the Greek gods up on Mount Olympus. He isn’t even with us but holding his nose, looking around for an exit strategy.

Thanks to Christ’s atoning blood and the Spirit’s presence, the high and holy One dwells with us, in our midst, even in our mess (Lev. 16:16). Down here at rock bottom, he’s bringing all he is to all we need. He couldn’t bear to see us suffering alone. He’ll never leave us nor forsake us (Heb. 13:5). He keeps saying, “Fear not, for I am with you” (Isa. 41:10).

Thanks to Christ’s atoning blood and the Spirit’s presence, the high and holy One dwells with us, in our midst, even in our mess.

Isaiah 57:15 is a royal proclamation. The King of kings, the high and holy One, promises his presence down with his people in their most extreme need. The scholars writing on Isaiah help us feel the force of our Lord’s strong assertion.

Matthew Henry, in the 18th century, wrote, “He that dwells in the highest heavens dwells in the lowest hearts, and inhabits sincerity as surely as he inhabits eternity. In these he delights.” Franz Delitzsch, in the 19th century, put it beautifully:

The Holy One is also the Merciful One. . . . The heaven of heavens is not too great for him, and a human heart is not too small for him to dwell in. He who dwells among the praises of the seraphim does not scorn to dwell among the sighs of a poor human soul.

My friend John Oswalt, writing in the 20th century, said it this way: “He offers life to those from whom the life has been all but crushed out; he offers life to those whose spirit has been ground down to nothing. They need not be captive to their sin and shame.”

Our tenderhearted King knows that being alone at rock bottom is unspeakably painful. He has a vivid personal memory of it from that day on his cross when he said, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matt. 27:46). He understands. That’s why it’s so important to him to stay with us.

Not everyone sticks around. Some people we thought were friends just aren’t there for us when everything is on the line. And that’s when rock bottom is more than just sad. It’s terrifying.

To be discarded and forgotten, canceled and deleted—our sense of worth shatters. We realize, They never were my friends. I never understood what was really going on. How could I have been so blind? Yet all the while, their happy parade continues moving on down the street, the trumpets blaring and the drums beating, as if we never even existed. Because we didn’t. Not to them. Not really.

And then we think, I won’t make that mistake twice! We withdraw into ourselves. It feels safe. But in truth, the word for that feeling is temptation. We’re being tempted to shut God out.

What Is a Friend?

So let’s back up and ask, What’s a real friend? Answer: an honest-to-goodness friend is all in.

Historian Donald Miller explains the strong bonds of comradeship among the American airmen fighting during World War II. It wasn’t hatred for the enemy but love for one another that forged their solidarity. Here’s a real-life example from a bomber crew:

Before going into combat, the four sergeants made a pact that if one of them got into a tight spot the others would not abandon him, “no matter what.” Weeks later, when their plane was shredded by flak, the pilot ordered everyone to bail out. The top turret gunner, who had not entered the pact, parachuted out of the plane and later reported what happened before he jumped. Enemy shrapnel had jammed the release mechanism of the ball turret, trapping the gunner in his Plexiglas bubble. Unable to extricate him, the other three gunners, all of them uninjured, told their trapped friend that they would die with him. And they did.

True friendship isn’t a cost-benefit calculation. It’s personal commitment, even when everything falls apart—especially when everything falls apart. Isn’t that the best part of friendship? We might forget that happy Fourth of July cookout with friends last year. But we’ll never forget the night they rushed to the hospital after our terrible car wreck, how they stayed with us through the ordeal. God is like that. He’s all in with you, as your closest friend, at all times.

Our tenderhearted King knows that being alone at rock bottom is unspeakably painful. That’s why it’s so important to him to stay with us.

If God liked you except when your life implodes, then he’d be one of those false friends who walk away when staying true to you starts costing them. But God is steady, loyal, faithful. The Bible even says he abounds in “steadfast love and faithfulness” (Ex. 34:6). He’s like Old Faithful at Yellowstone National Park, gushing with affection for you. He’s like the surf off the coast of Southern California, where I grew up. I can still see those waves rolling in 24-7, sent from storms thousands of miles away and from earth tremors down at the ocean’s floor. We didn’t cause those waves. All we did was surf them. And God’s heart moves that way toward you. You don’t cause his love. Your part is to enjoy his love. He is with the lowly and the contrite, and he is with you.

Yes, rock bottom isn’t where we ever wanted to go. But it can be hard to find Jesus anywhere else.

Psalm 138:6 says, “For though the LORD is high, he regards the lowly, but the haughty he knows from afar.” Another translation reads, “But he keeps his distance from the proud” (NLT). Thank you, rock bottom, for shattering our pride and opening our hearts to Jesus.

Malcolm Muggeridge vividly described that kind of moment: “In the gathering darkness every glimmer of light has finally flickered out, it’s then that Christ’s hand reaches out sure and firm. Then Christ’s words bring their inexpressible comfort, then his light shines brightest, abolishing the darkness forever.”

It gets even better. By the grace of Christ, others around you will also prove to be true friends. They’ll be his gift to you, and you to them. Their presence with you will bring his presence to you. This is why Shakespeare wisely counseled us, “Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel!”

Never let go of your friends—including Christ. Your faith will be mixed with doubts at times. Whose isn’t? But as you lose some false beliefs along the way, don’t lose Christ too. Grapple him, and your other true friends, to your soul with hoops of steel.