How God Meets Us in Loneliness

I plunked down on the couch with the house finally quiet at the end of another full day. But the silence I once craved, I now dreaded. My alone time had become aching loneliness.

A few months earlier, I’d gone to bed happily married and woken up a sudden widow and single mom to our seven children. The days of single parenting were hard enough, but at least they were filled with activities that kept me busy—mornings of homeschool or co-op classes and afternoons with extracurriculars and sports practices.

After getting dinner on the table, cleaning up, and bathing the youngest kids, I’d settle into the family room recliner with our current read-aloud while my children snuggled on the couch or sprawled on floor pillows. Afterward, my older children would go upstairs to read on their own or finish schoolwork as I tucked the littlest two into bed.

But then I had hours to myself, something I’d once relished. Without the distraction of kids or a to-do list though, I was forced to sit with the pain. And honestly, the ache felt too much to bear. I never knew loss and loneliness could physically hurt.

Maybe you’re lonely in a houseful of people. Maybe you’re lonely in a marriage you desperately wish could fill you. Maybe you’ve found yourself feeling alone as you search for a new church home or slide into a seat at the church you’ve called home for years.

Maybe you’re lonely after your best friend died, or your sister or your parent. You reach for the phone to send that text or check in on them only to remember—the last text has been sent. They no longer need you to check in on them like you did all those months.

We’re in a crisis of loneliness experts tell us. Never before have we in the United States, and likely the western world, been so lonely, isolated and disconnected from each other.

Connecting through social media may give us the illusion we’re connected, but it’s a disappointing substitute for in-person relationships. Online interactions lack any kind of physical touch (a handshake, hug or even the clinking of glasses), and the facial expressions, tears and laughter that help us attach deeply.

When we scroll Instagram or Facebook, we aren’t cooking together, shopping together or laughing over a crazy game of pickleball. Social media doesn’t let us build the layers of shared connection that make for meaningful relationships.

In fact, it begs us to compare our less-than life to everyone’s amazing highlight reels, leaving us feeling even more alone.

I wish I could tell you there’s a way to fix loneliness. But trying to numb the pain on our own would only make our circumstances worse.

I wish I could tell you you’ll get used to it. While for me the raw pain has definitely softened and many evenings I go to sleep happily exhausted from the fullest kind of day, I still have plenty of nights where I pull up the covers up on my side of the king-sized bed with a slow sigh as loneliness hangs in the still darkness.

Later this week, I’ll share the practical ways I’ve found to manage loneliness. But today, I want to share the one thing that’s helped me most when I’ve thought the ache of loneliness would swallow me whole.

Because we have Someone to help us in it.

How God Meets Us in Loneliness

Psalm 46:1 says, “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.” (ESV) It’s that “very present” help I’ve come to lean on in my hardest moments of loneliness.

At times, I’ve audibly cried out to God or spoken aloud my frustrations. But mostly it’s my heart quietly connected to his—lifting my raw ache, my deepest prayers, my hardest emotions and my tenderest hopes to him.

When I lean into God, God wraps me with real comfort. God is our “Father of mercies and God of all comfort.” (2 Corinthians 1:3, ESV) That word comfort in the Greek is paráklēsis. “Para” means side by side or next to and klesis means a call or invitation.¹

God comes alongside us, intimately meeting us in our loneliness. His presence is different than the human connection of a hug or knowing smile. But God’s comfort is real. And it is enough to get us through the most painful, isolating, aching moments.

God’s grace doesn’t just save us and then leave us to fight it out this side of heaven alone. God’s grace beautifully, fully and satisfyingly sustains us.

In the cavernous ache of loss, you and I are not alone. God doesn’t keep us from excruciating times of loneliness and pain. He keeps us in them. He sustains us through them. And He comforts us with himself.

Sometimes that’s breath by breath. Sometimes it’s from one lonely evening or new church visit or empty conversation to another.

In our deepest ache, God’s presence comforts deeper.

Thank You, God, that You will never leave me alone and that You are with me in my sorrow. Comfort me with Your presence. Keep me from any unhealthy choice in my pain. Thank You for Your grace that doesn’t just save me but sustains me. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

1. https://biblehub.com/greek/3874.htm