My 20s were probably some of the hardest years of my life because of one word: loneliness.
It wasn’t that I was completely alone. I had friends. I had co-workers. I dated and had boyfriends. I saw my family. My life had people in it.
But somehow, none of those relationships felt like enough when I was sitting home alone on a Friday night.
I remember having this recurring, rather morbid thought: I could come home on Friday night, die, and no one would know until I didn’t show up for work Monday morning.
Morbid—huh?
Well-meaning people would tell me, “Once you’re married, it’ll be better.”
So naturally, marriage began to look a lot like the answer.
When I turned 30, still single with a small trail of boyfriends behind me and no husband in sight, I started wondering if I would ever find that permanent companionship that would finally shut down the loneliness.
Then, at 33, I went on a blind date.
He was OK. We liked some of the same things. Two months later, he asked me to marry him.
I said yes.
Here it was—the answer to loneliness.
Except no one had ever told me that you can be far lonelier in a bad marriage than you ever were living alone.
What I Didn’t Understand About Loneliness
I never really cracked the code of how to be single and never feel lonely. In fact, I’m not sure there is a code.
What I began to understand after my divorce, in my early 40s, was something different: God doesn’t necessarily promise to remove every lonely season from our lives. He can give us freedom within our loneliness, and He can use those lonely places to grow us.
There is a difference between loneliness and solitude.
Loneliness says, No one is here.
Solitude says, God is here.
And learning that difference changed something in me.
Being a Christian doesn’t mean pretending loneliness doesn’t hurt. We don’t have to paste a smile over it or convince ourselves that we shouldn’t feel sad because we have Jesus. Scripture is filled with people crying out honestly to God. David did it. Even Jesus experienced deep sorrow and isolation.
We can tell God, I’m lonely. I don’t like this. I wish my life looked different.
He can handle that.
But after we acknowledge the pain, we can also ask Him, What do You want to do with me here?
Bend Your Soul Outward
I recently heard a phrase I love: “Bend your soul outward.”
When you’re lonely, sad or discouraged, everything naturally begins turning inward.
Why hasn’t anyone called me? Why wasn’t I invited? Why don’t I have someone? Why does everyone else seem to have what I want?
Sometimes the best thing we can do is bend our soul in the opposite direction.
Call someone.
Help a neighbor.
Volunteer.
Invite somebody to lunch.
Ask the cashier how her day is going—and actually listen to the answer.
Don’t wait for a huge group of friends or some dramatic change in your social life. Small connections matter. A conversation with a neighbor, a weekly Bible study, serving at church, lunch with a friend—these little connections begin weaving us back into community.
Over the years, I’ve learned there are several practices that can help us walk through loneliness without allowing it to define us.
- Remember Your Story Is Part of a Bigger Story
In my 20s, I didn’t have the maturity to understand my own story. I was so focused on what I thought was missing that I couldn’t see where God was already working.
It wasn’t until my late 30s that I began to understand my journey differently.
I had spent years looking to relationships—and eventually a marriage—to give me something they were never capable of giving me. I was asking another person to fill a place that ultimately belonged to God.
I had lost sight of God’s bigger story for my life.
So I had to return to some basic questions.
Who am I?
I belong to God. My identity isn’t “single,” “married,” “divorced,” “lonely” or “wanted.” My identity is found in Christ. (Romans 8:9–17; Ephesians 1:1; 1 Peter 2:9)
What is my purpose?
To glorify God and love the people He places around me. (Matthew 22:36–40; Romans 12:1–2)
What is reality?
“For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things. To Him be the glory forever.” (Romans 11:36)
My life wasn’t on hold while I waited for somebody to show up.
God was already writing the story.
- Recognize Loneliness as Real Suffering
Loneliness is a form of relational suffering. At its core, it’s the feeling that we aren’t known, loved or connected in the way we long to be.
It can happen because of a breakup, divorce, death, moving to a new place, living alone or simply struggling to build meaningful friendships.
And here’s something important: married people get lonely too.
I certainly did.
We need to stop treating loneliness as though it only belongs to single people. You can be surrounded by people and still feel invisible.
Sometimes the most faithful prayer is simply David’s:
“How long, Lord?” (Psalm 13:1)
God doesn’t require us to pretend.
- Turn Loneliness Into Solitude
This sounds completely backward, but sometimes part of the answer to loneliness is more time alone.
Not isolation.
Solitude.
There is a difference.
Isolation pulls us away from everyone—including God. Solitude intentionally pulls us away from the noise so we can be with God.
Jesus did this regularly. Scripture tells us, “Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed.” (Luke 5:16)
I’ve discovered something powerful in simply sitting quietly with God for five or ten minutes. No phone. No agenda. No list of things I need Him to fix.
Just being still.
Solitude reminds me that before I accomplish anything, fix anything or become anything, I am already loved by my Father.
And that kind of love stabilizes us in a way another person never can.
- Go Deeper With the People You Already Have
We are not meant to do life alone.
Jesus Himself had close relationships. He ate with His friends, traveled with them, taught them, prayed with them and allowed them into the most difficult moments of His life.
But somewhere along the way, many of us have confused acquaintances with friendship.
I once read that acquaintanceship is to friendship what snorkeling is to deep-sea diving.
I love that.
There’s nothing wrong with snorkeling. But if we spend our whole lives skimming across the surface, we’ll never experience the beauty that’s deeper down.
Look at the people already in your life.
Is there someone you could invite to breakfast once a month? Someone at church you could get to know beyond Sunday-morning small talk? Someone you could ask a question that goes a little deeper than, “How are you?”
Real friendship requires a little scuba diving.
- Don’t Underestimate Small Relationships
Not every meaningful connection has to become a lifelong friendship.
Talk to people.
Ask, “How’s your day?”
Ask where they’re from.
Share something about yourself.
Be curious.
When appropriate, move beyond small talk and ask, “What do you think about that?”
Those little moments can open doors to future conversations. They may give you an opportunity to encourage someone, pray for someone or simply remind you that you are part of a much bigger world.
Deep friendships matter.
But so do the little connections woven throughout an ordinary day.
- Put People on Your Calendar
Relationships usually don’t just happen—especially as we get older.
We have to be intentional.
One of my single friends actually builds relationships into the rhythm of her life. She spends an evening with a close friend every month. Every other week she meets with her small group. Each week she has dinner with friends who have agreed to “show up however they are.” And she uses ordinary time—like walking the dog or commuting—to call friends and family.
My nephew manages his single social life much the same way.
I think there’s wisdom in that.
Look at the things you already enjoy—walking, reading, eating out, antiquing, exercising, drinking coffee—and occasionally invite someone into them.
You don’t necessarily need more time.
Sometimes you simply need to bring people into the time you already have.
Freedom and Growth
None of these practices are a magic cure for loneliness.
And they certainly aren’t another checklist to make us feel guilty when we’re already struggling.
They’re simply ways to allow God to bring both freedom and growth out of lonely seasons.
Because loneliness can do something surprising.
It can point us toward God.
A.W. Tozer wrote about loneliness driving us to seek in God what we cannot find anywhere else.
I wish I had understood that in my 20s.
I thought I needed another person to take the ache away. I thought marriage would finally make me feel secure and connected.
It couldn’t.
No human relationship can carry the full weight of our need to be completely known and completely loved.
That doesn’t mean we stop needing people. We were created for community. Friendship is one of God’s great gifts.
But people are gifts.
They are not God.
And sometimes loneliness teaches us the difference.
Final Thoughts
“Even if my father and mother abandon me, the Lord will hold me close.” — Psalm 27:10
How amazing it is to remember that I am never truly alone.
Holy Spirit, You are my constant companion. You are here to guide me, comfort me and remind me that I am loved.
Still, there are days when I feel lonely. Sometimes I’m physically alone. Other times I’m standing in a room full of people and somehow still feel disconnected.
In those moments, remind me that You are there.
Help me not to waste my loneliness by simply trying to escape it. Teach me to turn loneliness into solitude—to sit with You, listen to You and allow You to fill the places I’ve spent years asking other people to fill.
And then help me bend my soul outward.
Help me notice the lonely person standing beside me.
Help me make the phone call, invite someone to lunch, join the group, serve the neighbor and take the risk of going a little deeper.
Because maybe the goal isn’t to build a life where I never feel lonely again.
Maybe it’s to build a life where loneliness no longer has the power to convince me that I’m alone.
The closer I walk with You, Lord, the fuller my life becomes—regardless of who is sitting beside me.
For God and you,
Deb Bostwick
Singles Blogger