The Grief of Loneliness
When bad choices have led to isolation and exclusion
There is a loneliness that arrives uninvited, born of circumstances beyond your control: the death of a spouse, an illness that isolates, a move that uproots. That loneliness is real, and it deserves compassion.
However, there is another kind of loneliness. This kind is not circumstantial; it is the aloneness and isolation that is the result of recklessly abandoning God's word. It is a self-inflicted exile through choices made, knowingly and willfully ignoring the dictates of Scripture. This loneliness follows you like a cling-film demonic presence, gleefully reminding you in many quiet hours of what you did to end up on your own. The fiend says with insolent enjoyment, "You did this. You did this to yourself, and now, you cannot undo it. Try as you might, there is no prince in shiny armour waiting for you on his white charger." And, unfortunately, that imp is often right. Finding someone to help you heal and reset what you've done is no easy or guaranteed task.
This article is for those who know that second type of loneliness intimately.
The Hard Truth: Consequences Are Real
Some injuries are permanent. Trust shattered, years gone, bodies damaged, relationships destroyed. Children born out of wedlock, marriages abandoned, oaths before God broken. The world sells a fantasy: that romantic love can erase what bad choices have carved into your life. Sadly, some churches sometimes peddle—and I use that word deliberately!—a gentler version of the same lie: find a good Christian partner, settle down, and redemption will follow naturally.
But the reality is harder. No person, no matter how good, is guaranteed to undo what has been done. There is no automatic right to have someone else clean up your mess, nor is even a Christian church marriage some kind of religious reset button. A church-sanctified romantic partner is not a magic wand that waves away consequences.
Some readers may protest: "But I've changed! I'm not that person anymore!" If true, excellent, and thanks be to God. But, changed or not, the past remains. The scars remain. And the loneliness that follows is neither justice nor injustice. It is simply consequence.
The Perspective Shift: Grateful for Mercy
Here is where grace enters, and it enters hard.
You are still here. You did not die in your sin. The loneliness you feel now, the isolation, the regret—doors that may now be permanently closed to you—these are mere wisps compared to eternal separation from God. Self-created exile gives a unique insight into what hell might actually be: the ache of being cut off from His holy presence, and the burning shame of the sure and certain knowledge that you yourself chose it. Even worse, that horrible feeling in the pit of your stomach when you realise the impossibility of undoing what has been done.
Yet, all is not gloom and doom. Knowledge of the permanent effects of some fleeting pleasures, painful as it is, can become a source of profound gratitude. You have been given time. You have been granted breath. You have been gifted the capacity not to turn back, but to go forward in a new life of understanding, acceptance, and joy. That is mercy, raw and undeserved.
Let the vision of this gift free you from dependence on false redemption fantasies—the belief that a church-sanctified romantic partner will save you, that marriage will validate you, that someone else's love will finally make you whole. It will not. Only God can do that. And He does not require you to be married, partnered, or romantically fulfilled to pour His compassion into your life.
The Letting Go: Face the Defeat
Some would say that your realisation of the gift is not defeat, that it is honesty and a doorway to freedom. I say, "No! It is defeat! It is a bitter, horrible, dreadful, awful, unlovable, unwelcome defeat. You thought sin had no consequences. You thought the Bible was an ancient fable, that God was some bearded fellow (or gender-affirmed modern woman) in the sky who had to 'understand where you are coming from,' otherwise he/she could shove it."
But now? Now you taste the ashes. Your soul aches. Grief sits heavy on your chest each morning and lays its heavy head on your lap each night. There is nothing left but to face where you are, how you got here, and what your real options are going forward. Yes, it is defeat. It is the defeat of the old you, but if you let it, it is the victory of the birth of a new you.
Only by facing harsh reality and coming to terms with the truth of your circumstances can you empty the glass that formerly brimmed with ego and misplaced self-confidence. Only then can you become the empty vessel into which God pours His compassion and love. And believe me, there is a joy in the Lord you will not afterwards give up for anything. And it waits for you even now to open yourself up to it.
The Redirection: Service as Purpose
What replaces loneliness? Not another person. Not a romantic rescue. Service.
I'm not talking about penance; you cannot earn your way back into God's favour. Instead, I speak of purpose, of pouring into others a vast wellspring of lovingkindness, only to be shocked at how it will be repaid to you manifold times. This is not wishful thinking; it is biblical promise.
Jesus said, "Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you" (Luke 6:38, NIV).
In the Faith Recovery Journal, Month 1, Week 1, Day 2 reflects on this verse with these words: "This is about generosity of spirit, time, attention, and resources—not transactional, but a principle of God's economy. When you give freely, God ensures that you receive abundantly, though rarely in the way or timing you expect."
In practice, though, what does this outworking look like? There are myriad avenues. You could foster children. Support adoption. Mentor younger people before they make the mistakes you made. Serve the vulnerable. Warn others. Give your time, your energy, your hard-won wisdom. You cannot reclaim what you squandered, but you can invest what remains.
The Working Solution: Availability as Gift
Single? Childless? Despite all the advice in the world, it is hard not to view such circumstances as curses, and they certainly feel like torment, even damnation, when loneliness presses in. But, with God's help, you can instead view them as opportunities and make availability a personal gain and emotional profit. You have time and energy that others with families do not. You might not have chosen singleness (or childlessness) for holy reasons, but if you let Him, God can sanctify it.
The apostle Paul wrote, "An unmarried man is concerned about the Lord's affairs—how he can please the Lord. But a married man is concerned about the affairs of this world—how he can please his wife—and his interests are divided" (1 Cor. 7:32–33, NIV). Paul understood that singleness, properly directed, is freedom for undivided devotion.
Let God use what you thought was loss as a tool for His purposes. The writer of Proverbs understood this economy: "Whoever is kind to the poor lends to the Lord, and he will reward them for what they have done" (Prov. 19:17, NIV).
Month 1, Week 1, Day 5 of the Faith Recovery Journal puts it plainly: "God treats kindness as a loan He will repay. When you serve the vulnerable, you are not throwing your energy into a void. You are investing in an economy that never fails."
Stop waiting for romantic rescue. Start living sacrificially.
The Endurance Principle: Do Not Grow Weary
Service is not immediately rewarded. Some days it will feel futile. You will wonder if anyone notices, if anything changes, if even God is paying attention.
He is.
Paul's words to the Galatians remain true: "Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up" (Gal. 6:9, NIV).
Month 1, Week 2, Day 1 of the Faith Recovery Journal returns to this theme: "Endurance in service yields harvest. Not today, perhaps not this year, but God is faithful. The work you do in His name is never wasted."
Be shocked at how loving kindness returns—manifold times, in ways you did not expect. Not because you deserve it, but because that is how God works.
The Only Honest Response
Surrender the pain to God. Not because He will reverse the consequences of your unwise exercise of free will, but because He alone can carry what you cannot undo. Redemption is not erasure. It is living in grace despite the scars.
You cannot undo the past, but you can stop compounding it. You cannot erase what was done, but you can refuse to waste what remains. Stop waiting for a romantic rescue. Start living sacrificially. That is where joy hides—not in the fulfilment of your fantasies (remember how you fantasised before, and where did that get you?). Rather, joy awaits in the surrender of your will to God's.
The loneliness may not disappear. But it can be transformed. From exile into pilgrimage. From consequence to calling. From defeat into dependence on the only One who never fails.
That joy in the Lord you tasted when you first opened yourself to Him? It is still there. And it is waiting for you to open yourself to it again.
The principles discussed above run throughout the Faith Recovery Journal—a two-volume, year-long resource that contains 365 days of daily Scripture, insights, reflections, prayer and gratitude exercises designed to transform you from grief to genuine joy through a life surrendered to God. The journal does not promise instant healing. It promises faithful companionship all through your hard work of recovery.