In his classic study of the spiritual life, The Spirit of the Disciplines, the late Dallas Willard argued that solitude deserves “primacy and priority among the disciplines.”[i] Here is his reasoning:
“The normal course of day-to-day human interactions locks us into patterns of feeling, thought, and action that are geared to a world set against God. Nothing but solitude can allow the development of a freedom from the ingrained behaviors that hinder our integration into God’s order.”[ii]
For an adequate perspective on something we see, we may need to stand at a distance from it. The expression “can’t see the forest for the trees” is hackneyed, but it depicts what I mean. We can be so close to something that we can no longer discern its true dimensions. Unimportant aspects may be magnified, while that which is significant is not seen at all.
But perceptual distance is not all that we need. We live in a more intrusive culture than previous generations experienced. Our smartphones give us immediate access to a range of information that no university library can match. We are barraged with breaking news and real-time information. We are always within reach of everyone who knows us. And it’s not only our personal electronic devices that break the silence. If you live in a community of any size, simply walk outside some evening and listen. It’s never actually quiet. Rural areas have their own soundtrack, though populated more by animals than machines.
Even indoors, in what we think of as the quiet of our homes, it’s rarely quiet. If you listen, you are likely to hear climate control systems, appliances, and other devices whirring in the background. Noise incessantly accompanies the minutes and hours of our lives.
Because these sounds are always there, we rarely notice them. Accustomed to their presence, we go through our days without being aware of the stimuli in which we are immersed every waking hour.
J. B. Philips translates Romans 12:2 as: “Don’t let the world squeeze you into its mold.” In the same way that we screen out background noise, we are not always aware of the unremitting squeeze of our world’s embrace. Social pressures and expectations are embedded in our consciousness, some at such an early age that we can’t remember a time when they weren’t there. Unless we discipline ourselves to withdraw into solitude, we cannot maintain the distance to see the world, its pressures, and its values for what they are, nor can we have an accurate perspective on the God who is greater than all of it.
For me it has taken consistent practice to have quiet time that achieves this purpose. Distracting thoughts are always vying for my attention, and they have many sources. I have a busy professional life, a family I love, several ministry involvements, and other relationships that are important to me. In the morning my day’s activities, requirements, and necessities are much on my mind. It’s not easy to mentally detach myself from all these things and focus my attention completely on God. And yet I know that if I don’t treat solitude as an important priority and devote consistent time to it day after day, I will not succeed in placing enough distance between myself and the world to focus on God. I don’t know how someone can build a solid foundation for personal character unless this practice consistently nourishes their life. After all, character is formed not through what we can do to strengthen ourselves, but from developing our ability to take hold of the grace of God.

Psalm 1, speaking of a godly man, says, “He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prospers” (Ps. 1:3). Solitude nourishes our spiritual roots. If the roots are not healthy, the tree is living on borrowed time. One day, a storm will reveal the tree’s weakness and send it crashing to the ground.
The solitude I speak of can seem like anti-social behavior. It may at times require firmness with others to maintain it. If you’re an extrovert, it may require ruthlessness with yourself. If solitude feels incompatible with your personality, you may even find it incomprehensible that being alone can possibly be good. You may conclude that this practice is one of those nice-but-not-essential things done by other people who are wired differently. But Richard Foster, reflecting on Jesus’s habit of seeking solitude, draws a different conclusion: “Like Jesus, we must go away from people so that we can be truly present when we are with people.”[i]
This is the paradox of solitude: training ourselves to focus and to screen out distractions can not only root us in a spiritually nourishing relationship with God, but it also opens us up for deeper connection with other people. If we’re to “live a life of love,” as Paul teaches, every encounter is an opportunity. How many have you missed because you were distracted by ephemera or upset by inner turbulence?
Like you, I have a busy life. I have few opportunities to seek physical distance from my surroundings by traveling to a retreat setting. To practice solitude requires taking advantage of the snippets of time available in between activities. Over the next two weeks, I plan to share practices that have I’ve found helpful.
[i] Dallas Willard, The Spirit of the Disciplines, p. 160.
[ii] Ibid., p. 160.
[iii] Richard Foster, The Celebration of Discipline, p. 95.
Thank you so much Jack, for a very meaningful message. Having been retired for many years, I have learned the value of being by myself to listen quietly to God. This didn't happen overnight, and the time it took is worth remembering, because once adopted it is with us forever. Loving people and loving solitude, what bliss!