07/08/2025
Food for thought -- and action.
A taste: "It hits sometime between the second scroll through Instagram and the sound of the microwave beeping. The feeling isn’t panic, exactly. It’s quieter than that. Like a hush that settles in your chest and stays. You’re not sad. You’re not anxious. But you are, unmistakably, alone.
By now, the science is almost boring in its consistency: loneliness shortens life spans, increases the risk of depression and dementia, and is, according to the U.S. Surgeon General, as dangerous as smoking 15 ci******es a day. In 2023, nearly one in three American adults reported feeling lonely at least once a week. One in five said they feel that way every day.
But beneath the surface of the headlines, something deeper is stirring. Loneliness is no longer just a mental health concern — it’s a crisis of meaning. And for millions of people, that makes it a spiritual one.
'You can be surrounded by people and still feel like you’re drowning,' says pastor and author Levi Lusko. 'Loneliness doesn’t always mean you’re isolated. Sometimes it means you’re disconnected from something deeper. Something eternal.'
It didn’t happen all at once. But over the past two decades, the infrastructure that used to bind people together — church, neighborhood, family, friendships — has thinned out. Church attendance is at an all-time low. Most Americans say they don’t have close confidants. For men under 35, more than 60 percent say they lack a single close friend. The average person spends more than seven hours a day looking at a screen.
What’s happened is that we’re now trying to fix a spiritual fracture with clinical Band-Aids. When people say they’re lonely, they’re not always saying they need more people around them. They’re saying they feel invisible. They feel unanchored...
'The loneliness you feel is a reminder that you’re not home yet,' he says...
That doesn’t mean life is hopeless until heaven. It means we build homes for one another now — spiritual homes. Families. Small groups. Shared tables. Real eye contact. And maybe, through that kind of presence, we rediscover the kind of healing that apps and policies and self-care routines can’t provide.
Church, at its best, isn’t a cure-all. But it is a start. It’s a place where people bring their ache — their grief, their silence, their longings — and find that they’re not the only ones. Where they remember that to be seen and loved is holy. And where, if only for a moment, loneliness gives way to something like belonging."
It hits sometime between the second scroll through Instagram and the sound of the microwave beeping. The feeling isn’t panic, exactly. It’s quieter than