Walking with Jesus: The Practice of Solitude

Learning to be still in a noisy world

Key Scripture: Mark 1:35–39

When was the last time you experienced complete and total silence?

I'm not talking about the time you spent sleeping. I'm talking about being fully awake, with no music playing, no podcast in the background, no television, and no phone demanding your attention.

It's an interesting question, isn't it? For many of us, silence has become surprisingly unfamiliar.

Several years ago, when my children were younger, we visited a science museum. I can't remember whether it was here in Ottawa or in Toronto, but we went into a room designed to demonstrate how sound can be absorbed. You could stand at one end of the room while your children yelled at you from the other end, and you couldn't hear a thing.

As a parent, that was the best five minutes of my life!

You could see their faces as they screamed, but the sound simply disappeared before it reached you.

After that, we went into another room where you could experience complete silence. There was nothing to distract you. All you could hear was your own thoughts.

The fascinating thing was that being alone with your thoughts could become uncomfortable surprisingly quickly.

Some people would start twitching within seconds. As someone who is a little more introverted, I thought it was wonderful—at least for the first few minutes!

But it raises an important question: Why have we become so uncomfortable with silence?

We Live in a Noisy World

Think about what happens when you get into your car.

I start my car, connect my phone, and put on a podcast or some music. Recently, I've even gone down the rabbit hole of AI-generated hair-metal worship music. It's fantastic! Although I still think we need to work on getting a little more hair metal into our worship services, that's probably a post for another day.

The funny thing is that I do this almost automatically. I don't even stop to consider whether I want to listen to something. I simply fill the silence.

I know people who can't fall asleep without a device making noise in the background. We've become so accustomed to having sound around us that when the noise stops, we sometimes feel as though something is wrong.

And then something else happens.

When the external noise finally stops, the internal noise gets louder.

We begin thinking about the bills we need to pay, the meeting we're worried about, the conversation that didn't go well, the problem at work, or the things we're afraid might happen. Sometimes, it's when we lie down at night that our biggest worries finally catch up with us.

We spend much of our lives keeping ourselves busy, and the moment we stop, we discover how much is going on inside us.

I've begun to wonder whether one of the greatest challenges facing the church today isn't simply what's happening in the culture around us. Perhaps it's that we've become so distracted that we've lost our ability to listen to God.

What if the problem isn't only out there? What if we also need to pay attention to what's happening in our own hearts?

That's why we're exploring spiritual practices in this series. These aren't religious checklists designed to make us feel guilty when we fail. They're rhythms that help us make room for God to work in us.

And one of the most important—and perhaps most neglected—of these practices is solitude.

Jesus Regularly Withdrew to Quiet Places

Mark 1 gives us a glimpse into a busy day in the life of Jesus.

He had been teaching, healing the sick, and delivering people from demonic oppression. The demands on him were enormous. People needed his help, and the whole town seemed to be looking for him.

Then we read these words:

“Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed.” — Mark 1:35

Jesus withdrew to a quiet place to pray.

Notice the timing. Jesus wasn't taking a break because his ministry had slowed down. He wasn't escaping from his responsibilities because he had nothing else to do. People were waiting for him. There were needs to meet and people to help.

Yet Jesus made time to be alone with his Father.

This wasn't an isolated event, either. Luke 5:16 tells us that Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed.

Solitude was a regular rhythm in Jesus' life, not merely an emergency measure when he was exhausted.

That challenges me.

It's easy to think we'll make time for God when life becomes less busy. We'll slow down when the children are older, when work settles down, when the project is finished, or when the next crisis has passed.

But there's always something else waiting for us.

I once tried to explain pastoral ministry to a close friend who isn't a Christian. He works in construction, so I described it this way: imagine building a wall one day, only to return the next morning and discover that the wall is back on the ground. You rebuild it, go home, and return the next day to find it on the ground again.

He looked at me and said, "That's horrible!"

I told him, "Yeah, that's pastoral ministry."

The hurt and brokenness of life don't simply disappear. You can help one person through a difficult season, celebrate a victory, and then discover that another person or family needs help the very next day.

That's the world we live in. It was also the world Jesus lived in.

And yet, in the middle of those demands, Jesus regularly withdrew to be with his Father.

Jesus doesn't simply invite us to believe certain things about him. He invites us to follow him—to learn to live the way he lived. If withdrawing to quiet places was part of his rhythm, perhaps it should become part of ours as well.

We don't need to wait until we're burned out before we make room for God.

In Solitude, God Frees Us from What Controls Us

Here's the big idea I want us to consider:

In solitude, God frees us from what controls us, grounds us in his love, and prepares us to love others well.

Let's begin with the first part: God frees us from what controls us.

When we slow down and allow ourselves to be quiet, we begin to notice what's happening inside us.

I don't know about you, but I can be my own worst critic.

I can tell myself that I'm not good enough, that I should be working harder, that I've failed in some way, or that I could be a better husband, father, or pastor.

Even now, with my children grown up, I still joke with them about the fact that one day I'm going to figure out how to get high-school homework done properly. I never quite mastered that when they were actually in high school. My children are adults now, of course, but I haven't given up hope that I'll eventually get it right!

The humour points to something more serious: we can be incredibly hard on ourselves.

We carry disappointments, worries, fears, and regrets. Sometimes we don't even realize how much those things are affecting us because we stay busy enough not to think about them.

But when the noise stops, those things often begin to surface.

Perhaps you replay a conversation and wonder whether you said the wrong thing. Perhaps you worry about your future, your finances, or your relationships. Perhaps you carry a deep sense that you're never doing enough.

Solitude creates space for us to notice these things and bring them before God.

Psalm 139:23–24 gives us a helpful prayer:

“Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”

This isn't about sitting in silence and condemning ourselves. It's about inviting God into the places we might otherwise avoid.

Sometimes we discover that we're being driven by fear. Sometimes we realize how much anger or resentment we're carrying. Sometimes we recognize that our constant busyness is an attempt to prove our worth.

We can bring all of that to God.

We don't have to fix ourselves before we come into his presence. We can ask him to show us what's happening in our hearts and trust him to lead us toward freedom.

Solitude doesn't necessarily make these things disappear instantly. But it gives us an opportunity to stop running from them and begin dealing with them in the presence of God.

In Solitude, God Grounds Us in His Love

There's a second thing that happens when we make space for God: we begin to discover, or rediscover, that our identity rests in his love rather than in our performance.

This is something I've had to learn in my own life.

I can be driven by the feeling that I need to accomplish something. Even when I'm supposed to be resting, part of me is thinking about the next task, the next responsibility, or the next thing I need to get done.

Solitude can be difficult for me because everything inside me seems to say, "Get back to the list! You're not being productive! Do something!"

But what if, for a few minutes, I don't have to accomplish anything?

What if I can simply be with God?

During one time of solitude, I set a timer on my smartwatch. I chose twenty minutes and sat quietly, reminding myself, "God, I just want to be with you."

As I sat there, I began to sink into the comfort of the couch. There was a pillow nearby, and I rested my head against it.

In that moment, I had this picture of myself as God's child, resting my head against the chest of my heavenly Father.

It was a powerful reminder: God loves me, not because of what I accomplish, but because I am his child.

He doesn't love me because of my education, my productivity, the amount of work I complete, or how much influence I have. He doesn't love me because I've managed to check everything off my list.

He loves me.

And that truth matters, especially for those of us who carry wounds from our relationships with our earthly parents or other people who were supposed to love us well. Our experiences can shape the way we understand love, acceptance, and belonging.

But through Jesus, we are invited into a relationship with our heavenly Father, whose love isn't something we have to earn.

The Christian message is not that we work hard enough to make ourselves acceptable to God. We come to him because of what Jesus has done for us. Through his death and resurrection, our sins can be forgiven, and we can be reconciled to the Father.

We don't enter God's presence by proving our worth. We come because Jesus has made the way.

And in solitude, we have the opportunity to stop striving for a little while and rest in that love.

This is one of the reasons I believe Jesus regularly withdrew to quiet places. He lived in relationship with the Father, listening and praying as he carried out the work he had been sent to do.

We need that same reminder. Our worth isn't determined by how much we accomplish today. Before we are workers, parents, pastors, students, or volunteers, we are people invited to know and love God.

Sometimes the most important thing we can do is simply sit in his presence and remember that we are loved.

In Solitude, God Prepares Us to Love Others Well

Solitude isn't about escaping from the world or avoiding our responsibilities. It's about returning to them with a heart that's been shaped by time with God.

In Mark 1, after Jesus withdraws to pray, Simon Peter and the others go looking for him.

"Everyone is looking for you!" they tell him.

You can almost hear the urgency. There are people waiting. There's work to do. Everyone wants Jesus' attention.

But Jesus doesn't simply return to the same demands. He tells his disciples that they need to go to the nearby villages so he can preach there too. He continues the ministry the Father has given him.

Jesus' time alone with the Father didn't make him less engaged with people. It helped shape the way he carried out his mission.

That's an important distinction for us.

We don't practice solitude simply so we can feel peaceful or enjoy a few minutes away from the pressures of life. We make room to be with God so that we can return to our lives ready to love.

I want to be a better husband. I want to be a better father. I want to love the people I serve in the church well. I want to respond to people with patience and kindness, even when I'm tired or frustrated.

Those things don't happen simply because I tell myself to try harder. I need God to continue working in my heart.

Time with him helps me notice the things that are controlling me, remember that I'm loved, and return to the people around me with a renewed desire to love them well.

This is the rhythm I want us to remember:

Retreat. Receive. Return.

• Retreat: Step away from the noise and distractions so you can be alone with God.

• Receive: Allow yourself to be present with him. Bring him your worries, listen to his Word, and rest in his love.

• Return: Go back to your responsibilities ready to love the people God has placed in your life.

Solitude isn't meant to become a way of avoiding people. It's meant to help us love them better.

We retreat not to escape the world, but to meet with God so that we can return to the world as people increasingly shaped by his love.

Learning to Practice Solitude

A few years ago, I began exploring solitude more intentionally. One of the resources I used was Emotionally Healthy Spirituality Day by Day. Some of you may remember that we went through Emotionally Healthy Spirituality together as a church in a kind of trial run.

We found the material helpful. We enjoyed the experience. And then, like many of us do, we moved on to the next book, the next study, and the next sermon series.

The books went back on the shelf.

That experience reinforced something I often remind myself: It's not enough to read a book. We need to let what we read change us.

The same is true of the Bible. We can read Scripture, learn wonderful truths, and listen to excellent sermons without putting those truths into practice.

Spiritual growth requires more than information. It requires us to respond to what God is showing us.

One of the suggestions in the resource was to begin and end our time with two minutes of silence.

Two minutes!

I thought that sounded manageable, so I gave it a try.

At first, my mind wandered almost immediately. I would sit quietly, and before long I was thinking about my to-do list, the people I needed to contact, or everything else competing for my attention.

I'd have to remind myself, "No, I just want to meet with Jesus."

Because I'm someone who can visualize things, I began imagining Jesus walking ahead of me while I simply walked behind him. We weren't talking. There was nothing I needed to say. I was just walking with Jesus.

That image helped me settle down and redirect my attention when my mind wandered.

The practice eventually became part of a daily rhythm. I'd begin with a few minutes of silence, read Scripture and a devotional, reflect on a question, and journal about it. Then I'd finish with another period of silence.

I've now been practicing solitude for about six years, and I still struggle with it.

That's worth saying because we can assume that if a spiritual discipline is genuinely helpful, it should eventually become easy. But that's not always how it works.

Solitude is still harder for me than a week of fasting. With fasting, there's something concrete to do: I decide not to eat. With solitude, I have to resist the constant pull to be productive, to check something, or to get back to work.

And yet, this practice has become one of the best ways for me to begin and end my day.

It gives me space to pay attention to how I'm doing, meet with God, and rest in his presence. Then I can return to my responsibilities with a renewed desire to love the people around me.

The goal isn't to become an expert at sitting quietly. The goal is to grow in our relationship with God.

How Can You Begin?

If solitude is unfamiliar or uncomfortable for you, start small. You don't need to begin with twenty minutes of silence. You don't need to follow a complicated routine.

Here are a few simple steps you can try.

1. Find a place where you can be alone

It might be a comfortable chair in your home, a quiet room, or a place outside where you can sit undisturbed.

The important thing is to create a little space where you can turn your attention toward God.

2. Put your phone in another room

This one is huge for me.

I know that my time of solitude is much more likely to be distracted if I bring my phone with me. Even if I don't intend to check it, its presence makes it easier to give in to the temptation.

The days I leave it in another room are much more likely to be good times with God.

Give yourself permission to be unavailable for a few minutes.

3. Begin with one minute of silence

You don't need to start big.

Sit quietly for one minute. You might simply pray:

Jesus, I'm here. I know you're here. I just want to be with you.

If your mind wanders, don't beat yourself up. Gently return your attention to God.

When one minute becomes more familiar, try two minutes, then five, then ten. Over time, you may discover that you can remain in silence for longer periods.

4. Pay attention to what rises to the surface

As you sit quietly, notice what's happening inside you.

Are you anxious? Are you thinking about something that happened yesterday? Are you worried about the future? Are you struggling to stop thinking about work?

Don't immediately dismiss those thoughts. They may be revealing something that needs attention.

You can bring those concerns to God. You might even write them down and reflect on them in your journal.

Consider praying the words of Psalm 139:23–24 and asking God to show you what's happening in your heart.

5. Return to your responsibilities

When your time of solitude ends, don't think of it as a way to escape the day. Instead, prepare to re-enter it with God.

You might pray:

Jesus, I'm returning to my responsibilities now. Have your way in me. Help me love the people I'll encounter today.

Then go about your day, remembering that the God you met with in the quiet place is present with you in the busy places too.

Don't Give Up When It's Difficult

I want to offer one final encouragement: give yourself grace.

Silence and solitude may be among the most challenging spiritual practices for many Christians today. Our external world is full of noise, and our internal world can be just as busy.

I've been practicing solitude for about six years, and I still find it difficult. My phone, YouTube videos, Facebook reels, and all kinds of distractions can pull me away from the quiet. I can spend far too long going down rabbit holes when I should probably be doing something else—or simply being still.

So if you try this practice and struggle, you're not alone.

Don't turn solitude into another spiritual performance test. If you miss a day, begin again. If you sit quietly and your mind wanders, gently return your attention to Jesus. If uncomfortable thoughts surface, bring them to God and ask for his help.

And remember that solitude is not a way to earn God's love or make him speak to us on demand. We come to him because Jesus has already opened the way for us to know the Father.

The invitation is to make room for that relationship to grow.

Jesus regularly withdrew to quiet places. If we're serious about following him, perhaps we need to learn to do the same.

Retreat. Receive. Return.

Step away from the noise. Receive the love and presence of God. Then return to your family, workplace, church, and community ready to love the people around you.

A Question for Reflection

What makes silence and solitude difficult for you? Is it the distractions around you, the thoughts that surface when things become quiet, or the feeling that you should be doing something more productive?

This week, try setting aside just one or two minutes to be still before God. Leave your phone in another room, turn your attention toward Jesus, and simply say:

Jesus, I'm here. I just want to be with you.

You don't need to accomplish anything in those moments. Just begin by making room to be with him.