While most of the news coming out about loneliness is about how bad it is for our health, some people have stated that loneliness can be a good thing. Dr. Karyn Hall writes, “Just as physical pain protects people from physical dangers, loneliness may serve as a social pain to protect people from the dangers of being isolated. It may serve as a prompt to change behavior, to pay more attention to relationships which are needed for survival.”
And Jenna Clark, a senior behavioral researcher at Duke University’s Center for Advanced Hindsight, says, “There’s an unavoidable bit of speculation, but humans are very social and we can’t survive very well on our own. All human accomplishments and the creation of society has happened by working with other humans. [Our need for relatedness] keeps us cooperating with other humans so we can survive.”
My friend and former therapist Dr. Gordon Bals said this about loneliness: “I do think there is profound good in loneliness. It helps us reflect, make changes, seek more, and make space for God.” I have been fascinated by this statement since I first heard it. He’s not speaking from a human survival standpoint. He’s saying loneliness can help us grow spiritually. How can loneliness be a good thing? How can it help us reflect, make changes, seek more, and make space for God?
When I began to give more of my attention to loneliness several months ago, I did what I usually do: I began to write about it because I’m a writer and that’s one way I process all of the things. But I wanted to engage the topic in a different way and bring in additional opinions, so I also began to talk about loneliness on my Hope for the Lonely podcast that incorporates anonymous survey responses from others who have shared their experiences with loneliness.
All of the thinking and writing and talking about loneliness has removed some of the power it has had on me since I was a young child. My loneliness seems less oppressive. It seems less consuming. It’s more of a normal thing that has come into the light and sometimes accompanies me for a few hours or a few days or a few weeks instead of a monster hiding in the shadows of my soul that I don’t want to acknowledge or address.
Now my loneliness reminds me of the beautiful red and black and white woodpecker that used to hang out in the trees in the front yard of our former house. I never knew when the woodpecker would come around, but when it did show up I noticed it. I watched it. I listened to it. I followed its path. (I realize there could’ve been more than one woodpecker appearing throughout the 10 years we lived in that house. But please humor me and let me live my single bird dream.)
I’m not saying my loneliness is all better now. I’m not saying it doesn’t bother me anymore. But it is different. It’s more approachable. It’s less scary.
All of my reflection on loneliness has also led to more reflection on God, suffering, and hope. I’ve moved deeper into theological exploration and discussions with others who know a lot more about all of these topics than I will ever know. I’ve read Martin Luther and Gerhard Forde. I’ve exchanged emails and messages with smart friends who have been to seminary. I’ve tweeted into the Twittersphere and received pretty decent replies to those tweets. I’ve journaled and prayed and sat with God in the silence that comes with mystery.
So, as I reflect on my loneliness in theological conversations with others and God, I feel less alone in my exploration of various angles of loneliness, which makes me feel less alone in general. I’m not the only person who wants to understand the hard things. We all want to know what God is doing with the hard things. And while I don’t have all of the answers I want, I do have the God I need.
Reflecting on loneliness has also led to more thoughtfulness in how I engage with my friends and family throughout the course of everyday life. I am more intentional about the conversations I have during coffee dates with friends, when I’m hanging out with my husband and my kids, and while I’m with members of my church small group every Sunday night. I’ve always appreciated Christian community and meaningful conversations, but somehow this greater awareness of my loneliness has led me to desire greater depth with others. I have more courage to ask about things that usually linger in dark places. I have more confidence to speak words of peace and hope and encouragement to others. I have more gumption to demand my teenage kids sit still and listen to me read a poem or a short story or a short essay at night before bed because I know that stories and poems can help all of us feel less lonely.
I know it may be difficult for many to see a silver lining or believe that one may exist. In the anonymous survey for one of my podcast episodes on faith and loneliness, someone wrote, “Sometimes loneliness challenges my faith because I feel isolated and alone, and not even my faith feels robust or more than dull in light of my loneliness.” Another person wrote, “Loneliness makes faith really hard. If I feel lonely and unseen with the real, tangible people around me, that usually carries over to feeling unseen and ignored by a God that I can’t see.”
While the silver lining of my own loneliness is nice and sparkly for now, the cloud of loneliness hasn’t evaporated entirely. It still follows me around. It will probably hide the sun in some form or fashion for most of my days this side of heaven.
I have felt the pain of loneliness firsthand yet have also begun to understand what Dr. Bals means. As hard as loneliness can be, it can also be good. It can be a signal that something is off and serve as an invitation to give more attention to ourselves and our relationships with God and other people. It can help us move deeper into reflecting on the human condition. And it can help us better understand our need for a Rescuer and Redeemer.
COMMENTS
9 responses to “Can Loneliness Be a Good Thing?”
Leave a Reply
Great Minds (at least yours!) https://savedbydesign.wordpress.com/2019/04/06/born-lonely/
Good stuff! Thanks for sharing the link!
I’m someone who has written in to Charlotte’s podcast – I recommend it for those who want to dig into this topic more deeply.
I appreciate this reflection, and much of it strikes me as true. But I don’t know if I accept the premise that loneliness can be an “invitation to give more attention to ourselves and our relationship with God.” That would imply that it’s a symptom of failing to do those things, and I guess I’m not sure that is the case, broadly speaking. I don’t think loneliness tracks one-to-one with being inattentive to the self and/or God.
One thing that Charlotte often says that I wish I shared is the sense that talking about loneliness helps one feel less lonely. I’ve just never quite experienced that. It still remains a source of pain and embarrassment, and while I’ve gotten better at talking to friends and my pastor about it, I don’t necessarily feel better. Their empathy definitely has some value to me, but it also doesn’t actually solve the problem itself. I’m stuck trying to figure out what I can do about that, if anything.
At least I can try to remember that everyone is always in pain of some sort, and loneliness just happens to be the type of pain I carry. Others carry different things that I don’t. Maybe that makes me feel better?
Hi, Pierre,
Thanks for this comment. And thanks for listening to the podcast and responding to the survey questions.
I really appreciate your honesty, and I hate that you are stuck in your pain of loneliness. I definitely don’t see loneliness as only an invitation to give attention to myself and to God. And I don’t see it as the only invitation to give attention to myself and God. But I do think it can be *an* invitation to do so. I believe this is one aspect of our suffering (any type of suffering)–it helps us look at things differently.
I wish I could make your loneliness go away. I pray you find some relief and comfort from God, and from the hand of God, in ways that you might not be expecting.
Peace,
Charlotte
Thanks for saying that, Charlotte. What I hear from you consistently in your writing and the podcast is a great deal of faithfulness and compassion, and I appreciate your prayers. I am ever on the lookout for God’s great and small mercies every day.
Ugh. I replied to you without replying to your comment. I’m a dork Please see the comment below.
xox
I love that last line of this comment. What a beautiful way to live. And I think that’s what it looks like to live with hope on a daily basis, in the now, which is something I’ve been thinking a lot about the past few weeks. I get wrapped up in our ultimate hope–our hope in heaven when loneliness will be no more. But if we’re also on the lookout for God’s great and small mercies, then we have faith something is going to happen, we have faith God is intimately involved in our lives. We have faith He is at work. Thanks for putting words around that hope you have.
so lovely.
Well said. In our (church) community, we have folks who spend a lot of time with other people but rarely share their lives with one another. It’s all very insular and shallow. When misunderstandings or heartaches come, they simply withdraw for a while then come back to the same shallow connections. My wife and I have felt the pain of loneliness during those times and have had the same experience you are describing. We didn’t want it, but the period(s) of loneliness drove us to the gospel. You mention Luther/Forde. I love how he describes suffering and presents it as a good much in the same way you are presenting loneliness. Thanks for sharing.