Loneliness and Solitude

 

I'm an only child, so I grew up having to entertain myself without siblings to play with, which meant that I grew to handle being alone fairly well.  In fact, I needed it from time to time.  

As I grew older, I spent a lot of time reading and listening to music alone, and I only had a handful of close friends with whom I spent time on occasion.  I realized that even though I was considered by most people to be outgoing, I had an introverted side to me that needed to be acknowledged. 

But I never lived completely alone until this past year.  For my whole life, there were other people in whatever place I lived; parents, then roommates, spouse, and children.  I was 55 years old when I began living by myself after my separation and divorce. 

It was different.  For most of my life, I had to intentionally seek out solitude, and then suddenly, I was decidedly alone.  I discovered that being alone had its advantages (I could watch whatever I wanted on TV, for example). Still, it also brought with it a sense of sadness and occasionally despair.  

But I've learned a few things along the way.  

We all know the ache of being alone. Sometimes it creeps in quietly, other times it crashes over us with the weight of despair. 

Theologian Paul Tillich once wrote:  

“Our language has wisely sensed these two sides of man’s being alone. It has created the word ‘loneliness’ to express the pain of being alone. And it has created the word ‘solitude’ to express the glory of being alone.”

Tillich's words capture the tension we live with: the same experience of aloneness can either wound us or bless us, depending on how we receive it.

Loneliness can feel like exile. We long for connection, yet in our pain we often chase after things that do not truly heal us. Some turn to distractions or addictions, numbing themselves against the ache. Others force themselves into relationships that may soothe the surface but deepen the emptiness inside. 

Scripture gives us a sobering glimpse of this when Israel, in the wilderness, grew restless in their loneliness and turned to golden idols for comfort (Exodus 32). Their hunger for connection, misdirected, led to brokenness rather than life.

But solitude is different. Solitude is not the absence of others—it is the presence of God with us in our aloneness. 

Jesus himself sought solitude often, retreating to lonely places to pray (Luke 5:16). In those moments apart, He found strength, clarity, and communion with His Father. Solitude invites us to face ourselves honestly, to discover that we are not abandoned, but deeply held in the love of God.

Learning to embrace solitude means learning to love and accept ourselves—not because we are perfect, but because God meets us in our imperfection. Psalm 139 reminds us that no matter where we go, even into the depths, God is already there. 

When we stop running from the pain of loneliness and instead surrender to God’s presence in our solitude, we find a new kind of friendship: with God, and with our own soul.

This self-acceptance opens the door for healthier, more life-giving relationships with others. When we are no longer desperate to escape our loneliness, we can love freely without expecting another person to fill what only God can.

So if you feel the sting of loneliness today, don’t rush to cover it up. Instead, let it teach you. Accept its pain, and also allow yourself to taste the glory of solitude. In that sacred quiet, God is shaping you, preparing you, and opening you to relationships that flow not out of need, but out of fullness.

Prayer

Loving God,
In my loneliness, I sometimes feel empty and afraid. I confess how easily I try to numb the pain or fill it with things that cannot satisfy. Teach me instead to rest in solitude, where Your presence meets me and reminds me I am never truly alone. Help me to love myself as You love me, and from that place of peace, to open my heart to life-giving relationships with others. May my solitude become holy ground where I learn to walk more closely with You.
Amen.