From Loneliness to Solitude: Practicing the Presence of God

In his wonderful book, Reaching Out, Henri Nouwen suggests there are three key movements in the spiritual life. There is the movement from loneliness to solitude; from hostility to hospitality; and from illusion to prayer. Nouwen views each as an important part of our journey of spiritual ascent, the goal of which is union with God. The first explores our relationship with our own self, the second our relationship with others and the third our relationship with God. I recently preached on the first movement, and have been thinking about it since. Here are some of my thoughts on the journey from loneliness to solitude.

Since former US Surgeon General Vivak Murthy spoke about the health risk of what he called the “epidemic of loneliness” it has become common to note the dangers of loneliness, and indeed there are many. Apparently loneliness is about as damaging to your health as smoking 15 cigarettes a day, and can lead to cognitive decline, depression and heart problems. There are many reasons for the increase in loneliness, not least of which is that we are more mobile than we have ever been before, and despite the many advantages of this, it means we often say “goodbye” as we pack up and move to greener pastures. Most of the world’s major cities are filled with people who were not born there, but come from somewhere else. It takes time to build strong relationships and it is far easier to replace things than it is to replace people.

Recently I was chatting to a coaching client who had made a major move. Overall he was very positive, and quick to see the many things that had gone right and had even exceeded his expectations. But then his eyes welled up and he struggled to control his emotion… “it’s just that, it’s just that I’m now so lonely. Before if I went to the supermarket I always bumped into someone I knew. They might not have been my closest friend, but at least it was someone to say ‘hello’ to. Now there is no one, no one at all.” Those of you who have made a major move probably identify. The old sitcom Cheers had the theme song Where everybody knows your name – but those who have recently moved often experience the loss of being in a place where no one knows your name, and it can feel devastatingly lonely.

Real though that loneliness is, some feel a deeper form of aloneness – the awareness that you are with people you know yet feeling that they really don’t know you, that they don’t see you, that they don’t understand and that you can’t really be yourself. It can be the loneliness of being in a loveless marriage, or having parents who haven’t noticed that you are no longer 3, or feeling compelled to go along with the crowd, even though inwardly you think very differently.

The most common advice to those who feel that kind of loneliness is to reach out to others and to get involved with life. “Be the friend you would like to have,” is common counsel, and while there is truth in it, it is far easier said than done.

Sometimes the greatest loneliness is when we don’t understand our own self or our actions. Paul writes vividly of the experience in Romans 7:14-25 where he laments constantly doing what he never wants to do, and being who he does not want to be. His consolation is the grace of God.

It is that consolation that Nouwen points towards when he outlines the journey from loneliness to solitude. Rather than fill our emptiness with endless busy activity, Nouwen advocates that we begin the journey to solitude. In solitude we carve a place where we intentionally embrace being on our own. Ironically in doing so we shape a place where God can meet us. We go to the place of solitude to be alone so that we know that ultimately we are never alone for God is with us. Contradictory though that may sound, it is profoundly true. It is often when we are most deeply alone that we realise we are not alone.

This became real to me over a decade ago while I was on sabbatical leave in the US. I was there to lecture a couple of courses and to begin work on my now long published book The Tortoise Usually Wins. My time overlapped with the Easter weekend and some folk I met kindly invited me to spend Easter with them. I was pleased for the invite, as though the University had provided me with a delightful cottage, I realised the campus would be deserted over Easter and didn’t want to be alone – even though I had plenty of work to get on with. But on the Thursday morning my friend phoned and very apologetically said they had to withdraw the invitation as they had an unexpected crisis and it would no longer be possible for me to stay. If I had been in my usual place and space, that would have been no major issue, I would simply have pivoted to a Plan B, and all would have been well. But it is not so easy to have a Plan B when you are far from everyone you know. I suddenly realised I would be spending all day Friday, all day Saturday and all day Sunday, entirely on my own (I had been able to organise something else for the Monday). I was 53 at the time, and in all my 53 years I had never been entirely alone for a full 3 days. I had no transport so could only travel as far as I could walk, and felt a little daunted.

Friday started badly. I thought I would try one of the few churches in walking distance, but got the service time wrong, and it was all over before I got there. I tried to busy myself with writing, but my heart was not in it. I thought I should make it a spiritual retreat time – it was after all the Easter weekend. It worked up to a point, but by and large the extravert in me was screaming for human interaction. Late on Saturday afternoon I went for a walk, and remember coming to a point on the campus where a vast green space lay ahead. I hadn’t passed even one person on my walk, and could see no one in the terrain ahead. As I started the walk through that beautiful area it felt as though I heard the voice of God saying to me, “Let’s do this walk together.” No, it wasn’t an audible voice, and if there had been anyone in the vicinity (there wasn’t) they wouldn’t have heard anything. But it was as clear as clear to me. As I walked on, with each step I felt a deep reassurance well up within in, “You are not alone. I am with you. If I am with you, that is all you need.” It made a profound impression on me… I’d go so far as to stay that it has been formative. I can say that I know (as in know very deeply within) that God is always with me – and that transforms everything.

Returning to the cottage afterwards I found I was able to lean into the silence, rather than try to get away from it. It felt a welcome friend. I had begun my journey from loneliness to solitude. When things seem a little out of control (and no, that doesn’t happen often) I sense that same deep reassurance. God is, and God is good, and God is with me. And that is more than enough.

Luke 5:16 reads, “But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places to pray.” It’s one thing to ask the “what would Jesus do?” question – another to answer the “what did Jesus do?” question. From Luke we know that Jesus often withdrew to lonely places to pray. And in those lonely places, he found the solitude to embrace his mission, and change the world. Perhaps if, like Jesus, we welcome a retreat to lonely places, we might find the inner peace to embrace our God ordained mission with courage and hope. And the journey from loneliness to solitude need not be a long one.

Nice chatting…

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