What to Do When You Feel Isolated

Have you ever felt super alone? Like really, really alone. On-your-own solo. Not like choosing independence and being self-sufficient, but the terrifying oh no, I am about to go through this huge thing by myself thoughts.

One of Satan’s biggest missiles of ruin is isolating us.

From our friends.

From our family.

From Jesus.

It’s the moments that we think “no one understands” or that we don’t think anyone gets it. We feel utterly alone. Helpless.

In the desert.

In the wilderness.

In this deep, impossible-to-see-or-detect valley.

Completely alone.

Most of us have been here. It’s the weird in-between of seeing people and bodies around you saying they love you and saying they’re there, yet feeling utterly unaided and completely misunderstood. The longer we are alone in this pit, in the middle of the woods, the longer the lies begin to seem like the truth.

The longer we remain disconnected from friends and from truth and from the Lord, the easier it is for Satan’s voice to appear like the only voice.

That maybe we really aren’t good enough.

That maybe we really are the only person that has felt this, or that has been walking this path.

That maybe we really are broken beyond repair, shattered beyond salvation.

And the clichés come – the you have to weather the storm to have the rainbows and the every valley rises to a mountain. And you know the truth, right? You’ve heard the it’s going to be okays and you know the advice you would give to someone else in your situation. You know you need to speak. You know you need to confide. You know you need to open up and let the walls down and let the flood rush in, if it needs to rush in for a brief moment.

But how scary. How terrifying. We worry that no one will come as our raft fills. We worry that if we fully feel this season, then we are going to be damaged permanently with scars that never go away.

And then, like a rush of air, grace washes in.

That we don’t have to know and we don’t have to be articulate and eloquent in this space. Grace that says we don’t have to fight for a seat at the table, when we are invited to the banquet. Grace that ushers in a God who defines graciousness and gentleness. Grace that invites us to rest, to put our head down in a safe place.

The Lord calls us into a place of intimacy with him, but Satan tries to pull us into a place of isolation from Him. So friends, regardless of the season, whether you’re Everest-high or Canyon-low, continue to push in.

Into our friends.

Into our family.

Into Jesus.