The Lonely Side of Obedience

When isolation, transition, and quiet places become holy ground.

I won’t lie to you, some days are just hard. And not because something big or tragic happened. It’s the quiet kind of hard. The silent battles that I don’t always have the space or words to explain.

As a wife and a mom, I often feel like I’m being pulled in a thousand directions. There are meals to cook, children to raise, a husband to love, a home to manage, and somewhere in there, I’m supposed to find time for myself. But truthfully? By the time someone outside of my home invites me to do something fun or social, I’m already running on fumes. It’s not that I don’t want to go, it’s that I’m just so deeply tired. The same thing when it comes to showing up online.

And yet, I’m in another season where God has moved me. Again. Just when things started to feel like "home." We relocated again back in November of 2021. Now it’s been three and a half years, and if I’m honest, I still don’t feel settled. Nothing feels familiar. Friendships feel rushed or forced. I see no genuine connection outside of someone needing a favor here or there. For me, this is a trauma response from my childhood that I so deeply want to heal from. And there’s this ache for rootedness, for connection, that just hasn’t come the way I thought it would.

One day, I had to sit with all of that. All the frustration, all the loneliness, all the trying and striving and wondering. And in that moment, I realized I needed to surrender this part of my life to the Lord. I had been trying to fix something that only God could make whole.

And He met me there.

He didn’t just reveal the issue. He revealed the hurt. Church hurt. Family hurt. The pain of friendships that faded or ended without closure. And with that came a deeper truth: I had been running from anything that even looked like it might hurt me. I built walls. I kept people at a distance. I convinced myself I didn’t need anyone.

But God knew better.

What I couldn’t see then was that this isolation, this sense of being in-between places and people, was turning into something holy. Not glamorous. Not easy. But holy. This quiet season, the transitions, the tears, the stripped-down moments, was becoming sacred ground where God was rebuilding me from the inside out.

Absence makes the heart fonder… but more importantly, absence gives God room to do His best work.

Sometimes He separates us, not to punish us, but to prepare us. To protect us. To prune us.

You might be frustrated that the friendships aren’t forming, or that He moved you far from family, or that building community feels nearly impossible where you are. But what if this season of isolation is actually His invitation?

An invitation to go deeper in Him. An invitation to fully focus on what He’s called you to do, without distractions or emotional obligations pulling you in every direction. An invitation to trust when it doesn’t make sense and obey even when it’s lonely.

But let’s be real. The enemy lurks in these seasons too. He’ll whisper lies that God has left you. That you’re unworthy. Unlovable. Forgotten. Because if he can convince you that something is wrong with you, he’s done his job. He will steal your joy and peace, kill your confidence, courage, and calling, and destroy your faith altogether. And don’t be surprised when he uses the people closest to you to do it.

Here’s what I’m learning…

I have a voice. I have feelings. I have boundaries. I am guarded, and that’s okay. I just no longer want to engage in relationships that are unintentional or emotionally draining. I also know this: I am not hard to love.

So if you're reading this and your heart is tired, your prayers feel unanswered, and your life feels like it's stuck in a holding pattern...

Sis, I see you.

You are not broken. You are not invisible. You are not too much or not enough. You are simply in the middle of something sacred.

God hasn’t left you. He is refining you. He hasn’t forgotten you. He is maturing you. He hasn’t punished you. He is positioning you.

Even in the quiet. Even in the questioning. Even in the dry places.

So keep showing up. Keep surrendering. Keep putting one foot in front of the other, even when it feels like you’re walking in circles. God is still writing your story, and no part of it is wasted.

Like Joseph, betrayed and thrown into a pit, sold and forgotten in prison. He was never outside of God’s reach. And neither are you.

Let this scripture settle deep in your heart today:

"You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done..." (Genesis 50:20)

Sincerely, Takisha