To say suffering is difficult and painful is an understatement; when you’re experiencing loneliness, too, it can feel unbearable.
Both being alone and feeling alone can be two different things but can both lead to loneliness. The events of the past couple of years have shown us that being physically isolated from others isn’t good for us. God established that notion in the Garden of Eden when He declared it wasn’t good for man to be alone in Genesis 2:18. Speaking first of Adam, we can definitely see this today.
We are not made to be physically separated from others, but, even when we’re surrounded by others, we can really feel alone.
The Weight of Being Lonely
I can see how both were present during my times of suffering.
The majority of my mom’s illness was during my years of singleness. Although I had roommates, friends, and family, the feeling of loneliness was hard to shake for a number of reasons.
Although I was physically around others, for several years, no one else I knew had a parent diagnosed with a terminal illness. No one else around me knew what it was like to be in their early to mid-twenties and struggling to comprehend watching their mother slowly deteriorate. Certainly, I had my younger brother, but his experience was different, and he was miles away. Often, others met my situation with compassion and care, but I longed for a shared experience with another believer my age, another suffering sojourner.
Being lonely brought up comparisons to my friends and peers. I wanted so much to be like them circumstantially. I didn’t want to worry about heavy issues, such as making sure a power-of-attorney was put into place or navigating how to communicate with my mother as she lost her personality and language. How was I to care for typical end-of-life matters when I hardly felt like an adult myself?
Sometimes, in my suffering, I physically was alone. The hardest times for loneliness hit early morning, late at night or in the still, quieter moments when my brain slowed and allowed the reality to sink in. I hated and feared being physically alone–in the car, in my room, going to a new place, or when my roommates were out of town. I didn’t want to be left by myself. How was I going to be alone with my thoughts? The fear of dying alone one day, without anyone to care for me, presided at the forefront of my mind.
As I look back now, I also see how the loneliness I experienced was also due to unmet desires related to singleness. What I desired in my twenties (and I’ll admit it became an idol at times) was marriage–to gain a best friend. Instead, I experienced the loss of my best friend.
Talk about a punch to the gut sixty times over!
The Lord was taking away instead of giving me what I wanted. Suffering wasn’t what I wanted. The intensified feeling of loneliness often left me with a desire for deep understanding and being known. I hoped marriage was the way I would attain that desire, often voiced through the copious prayers and impatient waiting for a husband with a suffering parent. (It wasn’t that I wanted someone else’s parent to suffer, but at times, I prayed boldly for someone with a shared understanding.)
I shed many tears for my mom but also for the loneliness, channeled through unmet desires.
Perhaps you relate to the same loneliness, whether socially, physically or through the feeling. Maybe you understand the feeling of loneliness because of the uniqueness or rarity of your suffering. You feel the loneliness that comes with unwanted singleness, a barren womb, a chronic illness, isolation from your community, trauma, or persecution.
I understand the loneliness. I truly do. Our situations might not have been the same, but in your loneliness, I want you to hear you are not alone.
Moreover, here’s what I want you to see. I want you to see what I learned through loneliness in my suffering.
Lessons of Loneliness
- Even though I felt lonely, I was never truly alone.
A sweet promise God makes to His children is that He will never leave or forsake them (Deut. 31:6; Matt. 28:20). Even in times when I felt alone, I reminded myself of the truth. God showed me time and time again through answered prayers and through Scripture that His constant presence was true. He reassured me through the sweet prayers of friends. Fellow sojourners, there were times where I would have absolute peace and comfort in the midst of loneliness as well as a full assurance of His presence. Peace and comfort are gifts He gives (2 Thess. 3:16; John 14:27; 2 Cor. 1:5).
- God used loneliness to teach me to rely on Him, instead of running to people.
Early after my mom’s diagnosis, I went to a support group for family members of people with Alzheimer’s. At a group, I was the only twenty-something year old present…by several decades. Even within the Alzheimer’s community, the reminder was present that this experience was different. It was a rarity to have a parent in their fifties with Alzheimer’s. Driving home, I cried and called seven people. Seven. No one–not one of the seven–picked up.
So, what did I do? I cried out and talked to the Lord.
There were other times after that when I would feel lonely and, desperate, would pick up the phone to talk and connect to another human. Would you believe it? Each time, I would call people who “coincidentally” didn’t pick up. Eventually, over time, the number of people I tried became less and less until finally it dawned on me that God wanted me to run straight to Him. He would be my best comfort and friend in loneliness. He was always available to listen. Only He could “supply all [my] needs” in those moments (Phil. 4:19). I learned those moments of coincidental busyness were God’s providential grace and goodness.
- No human relationship never would satisfy the deep desire to be truly known and understood.
Only God could fully know and understand me. The well quoted words of Psalm 139:1 speak truth, “Lord, you have searched me and known me.” This one took more time to truly fully see because of how the Lord laid out the events of life. As I’d mentioned earlier, I prayed for a husband for a suffering parent. At one point, that prayer reluctantly became a prayer for a friend with a parent with Alzheimer’s. By God’s grace, God provided a friend/roommate with a parent with Alzheimer’s!
Even when God provided that friend/roommate, her experience was different than mine. While there was the closest understanding of the suffering, we still had some differences in our parents with Alzheimer’s. Even now, although my husband is an amazing support, there will always be a limit to what he can understand. He thinks differently and responds differently. As I like to say to my clients, because we are literally two people with different brains, we will have varying responses.
In his book Walking with God through Pain and Suffering, Tim Keller writes, “Suffering is unbearable if you aren’t certain that God is for you and with you.” The difference in our experience of suffering relies on our willingness to invite God into our loneliness. God gives us His presence while He holds our hand, guides us, and carries us through the loneliest parts. So, dear sojourner, may you be comforted in your loneliness by the greatest and most satisfying Comforter!
“And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Counselor to be with you forever. He is the Spirit of truth. The world is unable to receive him because it doesn’t see him or know him. But you do know him, because he remains with you and will be in you.“
John 14:16-17 (italics are mine)
Further Recommended Reading:
The Path of Loneliness by Elisabeth Elliot – I can’t speak more highly of this book. Now deceased, Elisabeth Elliot is my favorite author and knew well the journey of suffering. This book provided much needed understanding and words that hit so close to home as I experienced loneliness.