“And rising very early in the morning, while it was still dark, he departed and went out to a desolate place, and there he prayed.” — Mark 1:35
It is likely most of us would agree that we live in a world that is rarely quiet. Grabbing our phones before our feet hit the floor. Calendars fill faster than we can clear them. Work follows us home. News, notifications, emails, responsibilities, and expectations compete constantly for our attention. And oh, by the way…football season is back! Even when the room is quiet, our minds often are not.
For many of us, busyness has become more than a schedule. It has become a lifestyle. Yet tucked into the opening chapter of Mark’s Gospel is a simple picture of Jesus that challenges our assumptions about strength and productivity. “And rising very early in the morning, while it was still dark,” Jesus withdrew, found a solitary place, and prayed (Mark 1:35). Jesus found strength in the quiet.
Biblical solitude is not isolation for isolation’s sake. It is intentionally withdrawing from the noise around us so we can give our undivided attention to God. Growing up between the Indian and Banana River with the Atlantic right across the bridge in Merritt Island, Florida, it was like a solitude superdome. I took it for granted.
This pursuit of quiet was not rare for Jesus. Before choosing the twelve apostles, a rather pivotal moment in the course of human history, He withdrew to pray (Luke 6:12–13). After feeding the five thousand, He went up on a mountain by Himself (Matthew 14:23). As His ministry became increasingly demanding, the writer Luke tells us that “he would withdraw to desolate places and pray” (Luke 5:16).
This was not an accident. It was a rhythm. For the record, to withdraw does not imply doom scrolling. Jesus moved toward people in love, but He also withdrew from people to be with God the Father. His public ministry was sustained by a private life of communion with God.
In the life of Jesus, solitude preceded the miraculous.
Solitude can initially feel uncomfortable because removing external noise often exposes the unhealthy noise within us. When the television is off, the phone is down, and nobody is talking, we notice what has been happening inside our hearts—which may reveal a drift from our devotion to God.
Worry surfaces. Frustration becomes clearer. Exhaustion becomes harder to ignore. Questions we have pushed aside suddenly demand attention. But that is part of the gift.
The psalmist records God’s invitation: “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). Stillness reminds us that God remains God even when we stop moving. The world continues without our constant management. Problems do not have to be solved in the next five minutes. Emails can wait. The phone can remain unanswered. For a few moments, we can stop producing, performing, fixing, and proving.
We can simply be present with God. And in His presence, perspective begins to return. Most of us will not find a wilderness waiting outside our front door—but, on the Space Coast, it is quite the blessing. However, we can create intentional spaces of solitude within ordinary life.
I’ve mentioned in a previous article that the DC Metro has become a time of solitude for me. Unplugged, present, and enamored at how God speaks during a bustling commute. It might be sitting on the porch after a long day. It might be taking a walk without listening to your favorite playlist or podcast. It might be going to a park bench and watching the ducks. The location matters less than the intention.
Start small. Make time. Put away the device. Read a short passage of Scripture slowly. Pray. Then stop talking. And listen. Ask God a simple question: “Lord, have I been too busy to notice something?”
You may discover exhaustion that needs acknowledgment, gratitude that has been pushed aside, a relationship requiring attention, a decision that looks different after prayer, or simply the reassurance that God is present. Solitude does not always produce dramatic revelation. Sometimes its greatest gift is simply remembering whose presence we live in.
There is another important detail in Mark 1. Jesus did not remain in the solitary place forever. After praying, He returned to His mission. “Let us go on to the next towns,” Jesus said, “that I may preach there also, for that is why I came out” (Mark 1:38).
Solitude clarified what came next.
That is why finding strength in the quiet with God is not retreat from responsibility. It prepares us to return to responsibility with greater clarity, peace, and purpose. There will always be another demand. Another meeting. Another assignment. Another appointment. Another errand. Another season of uncertainty. Another someone who needs something. The question is whether we will face those demands depleted by the noise or strengthened by the quiet spent in the presence of God.
This September, find a quiet place. You do not have to accomplish anything. You do not have to impress anyone. You do not even have to fill every moment with words. Because sometimes the strength we need for what comes next is found in the quiet.