Solitude: Making Space for God

Living alone in a big, empty house has its benefits.  I can watch whatever I want on TV, and I can eat whatever and whenever I want.  I don't have to stand on decorum when it comes to what I  wear or don't wear.   

But it does have some serious drawbacks.  Over the past year and a half of living alone, I have discovered that I talk to myself a lot more than I would like.  I also hear all kinds of creaks and groans from my house, which often make me wonder if there is someone in there with me. 

I also find that in the evenings, when the day's work is done, and there are hours to kill before bedtime, they can be among the loneliest hours of the week.  

Conversely, I have experienced moments when I am alone in which I feel enlivened, connected to God and to the world around me.  

When you live alone, you realize more acutely that there is a huge difference between solitude and loneliness. 

Solitude is not isolation; it is intentional presence. Jesus repeatedly withdraws to lonely places to pray (Luke 5:16), not to escape people, but to remain rooted in God. Solitude creates space to remember who we are beneath expectations, noise, and constant activity.

Without solitude, our spiritual lives can become reactive. We move from one demand to the next without pausing to listen. Solitude interrupts this cycle. It invites us to step away—not because life is unimportant, but because attentiveness matters. “I will lead her into the wilderness,” God says, “and speak tenderly to her” (Hosea 2:14).

Solitude exposes us. Without distraction, we encounter our thoughts, fears, and longings. This can feel unsettling. Yet Scripture consistently portrays wilderness moments as places of formation rather than abandonment. Israel is shaped there. Elijah is restored there. Jesus is clarified there.

Solitude is not about producing insight; it is about receiving presence. In solitude, we are reminded that we are loved apart from usefulness. God does not meet us only in productivity, but in stillness. “For God alone my soul waits in silence,” the psalmist prays (Psalm 62:1).

Lent invites us into honest solitude—not dramatic withdrawal, but intentional space. Even small moments matter. Turning off a screen. Taking a quiet walk. Sitting without an agenda. These moments reorient us toward God and ground us in truth.

Solitude also teaches us to live more faithfully in community. When we know who we are before God, we engage others with greater clarity and compassion. Solitude does not pull us away from love; it deepens our capacity for it.

This season, resist the urge to fill every quiet space. Let solitude become a gift rather than a threat. Trust that God meets us not only in words and activity, but in quiet attentiveness.

Prayer
God who meets us in quiet places, draw us into solitude that restores rather than isolates. Speak gently to our hearts. Amen.

Reflection Questions

1. What makes solitude challenging for you?

2. Where have you encountered God in quiet moments?

3. How might you create space for solitude this Lent?