I was nineteen, probably, when it hit me for the first time. I was a sophomore in college, active on campus, doing well in school, surrounded by phenomenal friends—and every day I battled deep, gnawing sadness that I could not shake for the life of me. It didn’t matter how much my friends encouraged me, or how many cute notes they left on my dorm room door, or how often I reminded myself that I was loved and safe and relationally fulfilled. I was sad, and the sad wouldn’t leave.
Logically I knew that my family and my friends loved me, but I almost always felt like nobody really saw me. It sounds pretty needy when I look back on it, but wanting attention wasn’t the issue. I had no desire to sit in the center of a circle while people affirmed me. (By the way, that scenario continues to hold strong on my top 10 list of PLEASE NEVER LET THIS HAPPEN.) The issue was that I felt left out of my own life, if that makes sense. I could objectively look at the friends and the activities and the fun and think, Wow, this is awesome! I should be having the time of my life! But in the weirdest way, I didn’t feel like I was part of any of it.
Good times, right?
I never thought I was depressed; I didn’t have any trouble sticking to my routine or finishing my work or anything like that. I didn’t feel hopeless. I mostly felt super lonely, and eventually, the lonely lifted. But what I’ve learned since then is that when I’m in transition—whether that’s moving or changing jobs or figuring out how to navigate a new stage of parenting or whatever—the “sad and lonely” tends to pay me a visit. Sometimes it’s an extended one. And while I can’t say that it’s my favorite, I can say that the Lord has taught me a few lessons in the middle of it. Here are three:
- “Sad and lonely” leads me to examine my true identity in Christ. Even when I feel like a stranger in my own life, Jesus is for me. He is with me. He is my intercessor and my advocate. My feelings don’t define me, nor do my circumstances. Only Jesus. He sees me and loves me. He is continually working all things for good—even the sadness.
- “Sad and lonely” helps me appreciate the blessing of community. There’s something surreal about being in a bout with sadness and having people in your life who continue to show up and reach out and love you right there in the middle of it. It’s strangely beautiful that, when nothing seems more appealing than good, old-fashioned isolation, the people in your life won’t have it. They’re a constant chorus of “Nope, sister, you’re with us.” And it helps. It really does.
- “Sad and lonely” reminds me that this world is not my home. The older I get, the more I recognize that this world isn’t built to satisfy, and if we’re living lives that are surrendered to Jesus, we’re going to feel out of place and out of sorts from time to time. That’s okay. Our hearts really do long for “a better country, that is, a heavenly one” (Hebrews 11:16 esv). As wonderful as this life is, it doesn’t compare to our eternal home. In some way our sadness and loneliness remind us that we’re longing for the country we haven’t seen.
And here’s some unsolicited advice: if you can’t shake the “sad and lonely,” or if you’ve gone a step beyond it and suspect that you’re depressed, today is a great day to tell someone who loves you. We’re never as alone as we fear. Thank You, Jesus.
1. Do you ever struggle with sadness or loneliness?
2. Are there any common denominators in the times you battle the “sad and lonely”? Any specific situations that seem to cause it?
3. Are you more likely to feel sad when you’re at home? At school? When you’re scrolling through social media? Some other time?
4. According to Philippians 3:20, where is our citizenship?
Today’s Prayer