Finding God’s Presence in Seasons of Loneliness

Even in the stillness, He is there. You are never alone.

There are moments in my life when I feel completely alone. Maybe you’ve felt it too. That quiet ache when the group chats go silent, when the phone stays still, when the people you once prayed and laughed with have all moved on to other things. I used to have so many group messages every day. Stories shared. Prayers lifted. Encouragement passed around. Then, little by little, life changed. The groups dissolved. The conversations faded. And when the nights grew quiet, I realized how much I missed it.

I think back to the time when my heart was first set on fire with His love. I wanted to be everywhere. Daily Mass, Knights of Columbus events, Welcome, Called and Gifted, Mentorship, Small Groups, and Bible Studies. I said yes to everything because I wanted to be close to Him. And being with His people helped me feel that way. But when the meetings ended and everyone went home, there I was again. Alone.

The last big program I was part of was Mentorship. It had been a season of deep growth. We shared stories, prayed for one another, and held each other accountable in our walk with Christ. For months, I felt surrounded by brothers and sisters who understood the call to holiness and the struggle that comes with it. When the program ended, I expected to carry that rhythm of fellowship into something new. I was hoping to begin Diaconate formation. But then came the letter. The “not now.” It felt like the wind had been taken out of me. I trusted that God’s timing was perfect, but still, my heart sank. Without the regular meetings and shared prayer of Mentorship, the quiet settled in quickly. The group scattered back to our parishes, our jobs, and our families. From time to time, someone would text or wave at a parish event, but the closeness was gone. No group meet-ups. No late-night check-ins. Just silence.

That silence stretched longer than I expected. I kept serving where I could and stayed close to the sacraments, but something in me missed the rhythm of brotherhood. I longed for a space where faith and fellowship met again. Eventually, I found that connection in a different place, on a football field. Coaching my son’s team gave me a new circle of brothers in a faith-based program that lives by the motto “God First, Brothers Second.” We pray before and after every practice and game. Faith is not a side note. It is the foundation. Those boys, those coaches, and those moments of prayer filled something deep inside me. But now that the season is coming to a close, I feel that same familiar ache returning. I haven’t strayed far from the Church, not at all, but I have felt like I’ve been outside my parish for a while.

During my last meeting with my spiritual director, I let that word slip out. Somewhere in the middle of my rambling, I said alone. The Holy Spirit must have nudged him, because that was the one word he stayed with. We spent the rest of the hour talking about loneliness, isolation, and the deep need for connection that every soul carries.

He reminded me of John 6, the Bread of Life discourse. When Jesus told the crowd that they must eat His flesh and drink His blood to have life, many of His followers left Him. They could not accept what He said. “As a result of this, many of his disciples returned to their former way of life and no longer accompanied him.” (John 6:66). Jesus turned to the Twelve and asked, “Do you also want to leave?” (John 6:67).

I’ve often wondered how that moment felt. Did His heart ache as ours does when people drift away? Did He feel the sting of being misunderstood? Even in that loneliness, Jesus stayed faithful. He kept loving. He kept giving. That is what perfect love looks like.

And then there was the Agony in the Garden. The moment when He needed His friends most, and they fell asleep. Later, as He was arrested, they fled. Yet He did not abandon them. Even as He stood alone, He prayed, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup away from me; still, not my will but yours be done.” (Luke 22:42). Jesus knows the pain of feeling alone. Which means that when we sit in that same space, we are not truly alone. He is there too, quietly and faithfully, waiting for us to see Him.

Still, we are made for more than solitude. We need people too. We need friendship. We need community. We need that shared faith that reminds us who we are and whose we are. My spiritual director encouraged me to discern where that might grow again. Maybe by joining a new group. Maybe by attending a retreat. Maybe by starting and leading a small group myself. It is not about staying busy. It is about staying connected. Now I am praying about how to step back in and be rooted again where God is calling me.

Maybe you have felt something like that too. You were once deeply involved in a ministry, a small group, or a Bible study, and then life shifted. Seasons changed. People moved on. You kept your faith but lost your fellowship. You still believe, still serve, but something feels missing.

That is where I am right now. Not lost. Not hopeless. Just hungry. Hungry for the kind of community that draws me back to the heart of the Church, back to the rhythm of prayer, back to the friendships that help me see Christ more clearly.

Isolation can be deceptive. It whispers that you have been forgotten, that no one cares. But that is a lie from the evil one. God never forgets. He knows your name. “Can a mother forget her infant, be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Even should she forget, I will never forget you.” (Isaiah 49:15). That truth changes everything. God often answers loneliness not by sending comfort from heaven, but by sending people. Real, flesh-and-blood reminders of His love.

When I think about the people Jesus surrounded Himself with, fishermen, tax collectors, and zealots, I realize they were not perfect friends. They argued. They doubted. They ran away. But He kept drawing them back. He built His Church on imperfect people who learned to love one another anyway. That gives me hope. Because if He could build His Church through them, He can still build His kingdom through us.

Maybe that is the invitation for me right now. And maybe it is the invitation for you too. To find your people again. To reach out to someone sitting alone after Mass. To ask if there is a group, a retreat, or a ministry where you might belong. Faith is personal, but it was never meant to be private.

Loneliness is like sitting in an empty room with the lights off. The silence feels heavy. But when you open the door, you realize the hallway is full of others sitting in their own dark rooms, waiting for someone to knock. You are not forgotten. You are not invisible. You are part of the Body of Christ. And the Body does not work without every part. “As a body is one though it has many parts, and all the parts of the body, though many, are one body, so also Christ.” (1 Corinthians 12:12).

So, if you have been feeling alone lately, do not let that feeling turn into isolation. Let it become an invitation. Reach out. Say yes to community again. Ask God where He wants to plant you next.

Because the same Jesus who stood alone after the crowds walked away, the same Jesus who prayed in the garden when His friends fell asleep, is still standing beside you. Always.

He has never left you. And He never will.