You Feel Forgotten Tonight. Jesus Saw It Coming 2,000 Years Ago.
You're the last choice. The broken. The forgotten. And you're my kind of person.
If you’re reading this, you need to know that you’re not alone. That almost nauseous feeling at the bottom of your stomach? I feel it too, most days.
Maybe you’re reading this right now, hand cupped tight behind your phone with your thumb scrolling, and have that sick feeling. Maybe your arm is laid across your chest, because it feels heavy. Maybe you’re lying there wondering if anyone will ever understand you.
You think to yourself, “What’s wrong with me?” “Why can’t I connect with people?” “Why is making friends so hard?” “Everyone feels so distant.”
I am here to tell you friend, you’re not alone in this internal struggle. Many people feel it today. It’s not just you, I promise.
I want to talk to you today. I want to tell you that everything is okay. I want you to know that you’re loved — beyond measure.
Read on.
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Pull up a Chair! I Have Coffee!
Imagine, if you will, just two chairs and a table. We’re just talking, there’s no pressure. You don’t have to perform. You don’t have to act outside of yourself. You don’t have to worry about being weird. Because, guess what? I’m weird! I am the weirdest person you will ever meet.
Relieving, isn’t it?
You don’t have to do a darn thing but sit there and relax. The weight has been lifted. You’re in good company.
There’s no pressure. You can be yourself. I’d just ask one thing of you:
TO SAY THE FREAKING QUIET PART OUT LOUD.
You know what I’m talking about. The thing nobody wants to admit: I am lonely, I need help, and I need genuine company.
If we were actually sitting here right now, I wouldn’t tell you to cheer up or hand you five steps to feel better by Friday. I’d tell you what I actually believe, sitting across from you, face to face:
You are not too much
You are not too little.
You are exactly who someone was looking for.
The math isn’t mathing.
Loneliness is strange because you can be surrounded by people all day, and yet, still feel completely isolated. There’s a reason for that. Loneliness doesn’t always mean being alone. Most of the time, it means being unknown.
This is why it can feel overwhelming. Because you feel like the problem is you.
Is something off about my personality? My face? My past? My voice? Maybe if I were just a little more interesting, a little less awkward, and a little more put together... people would stay.
So you shrink and edit yourself. You stop reaching out first, because you’re tired of being the only one who does. You start rehearsing conversations in your head before you have them, just in case you say the wrong thing again. And before you know it, the world gets smaller.
You were never designed to carry this alone
Genesis says something easy to skim past. God finishes making the sky, the sea, the animals, the man — and after each one, He says it’s good. Then He looks at Adam, alone in a perfect garden with a perfect God, and says something is not good.
“It is not good that man should be alone.” (Genesis 2:18)
That’s before sin. Before anything went wrong. Isolation was the first thing in creation God called not good. Read that again. NOT. GOOD.
So that ache you feel? It just means you’re human. You were literally never designed for this.
So you’re not abnormal. Or weird. Or a freak. Just depleted.
He saw you before you were lonely
I want you think to think deeply about this.
Two thousand years ago, before you were ever born, Jesus already felt your isolation. He already knew.
So if you’re sitting there wondering will anyone ever understand me, I can assure you — Jesus did. He saw the exact shape of your loneliness, and your ache. And knowing all of it, He chose the cross.
Dear friend, that should bring you comfort. This isn’t a general kind of love. This is unconditional love.
Paul put it this way — that Christ loved him, personally, and gave Himself for him, personally (Galatians 2:20). Not “for humanity” in some abstract sense. For one man. The way He did it for you.
So when Jesus was hanging there, bleeding out for sins He never committed, your loneliest night was already in view. He already knew that version of you. He saw your loneliness and He willingly chose to die for you. He was dying for you exactly as you are right now — tired, overlooked, wondering if you matter to anyone.
YOU DO MATTER.
If you didn’t matter, the cross would have never happened.
The people Jesus actually sat with
And that’s not just theology — it’s how He actually lived. Look at who Jesus spent His time with. He sat with a woman at a well who’d been married five times and was living with a man who wasn’t her husband. He called a tax collector down from a tree and invited Himself to dinner, in front of everyone who despised the guy. He let a woman with a reputation wash His feet with her tears while the religious men in the room silently judged her for even being there.
Jesus kept choosing the last-picked. The ones everyone else had already written off. And you being the one who feels forgotten today? You’re exactly who Jesus would have sat beside when no one else would.
What to actually do with that feeling tonight
Knowing you’re loved doesn’t erase the ache of an empty apartment or a phone that doesn’t buzz. So here’s something practical, not just comforting:
Say it out loud to God, exactly as messy as it feels. Just tell Him you’re lonely. The Psalms are full of people doing exactly that. David wrote half of them from caves and battlefields, feeling abandoned.
Send the text you’re scared to send. The one where you reach out first, again, even though last time it felt one-sided. Somebody has to go first. It might as well be you.
Find one person, one room, one small group — even online — where showing up isn’t optional. Loneliness heals in repetition, not in a single perfect conversation.
Remember this is a season, not a sentence. Seasons pass. This one will too.
You’re not the last choice
You were the whole reason He came. If we were still sitting at that table, coffee long gone cold, I’d lean forward and say it one more time so it sticks: He saw this coming, and He came anyway. You’re seen and heard today. And you’re loved by the One who matters most. And that’s enough to build the next step on and move forward.
I understand you. I hear you. I know your pain.
— Thomas.
So beautifully written and heartfelt! Thank you! 🙏❤️ Being visually and hearing impaired, I have the tendecncy to isolate myself from other people. Your words have offered me wonderful comfort!