The Ache That Doesn’t Go Away

A Series on Loneliness and the Longing to Be Known

Prologue: Pasadena

The Moment I Felt What I’d Been Missing

It was Coldplay.
The Rose Bowl.
Thousands of people packed shoulder to shoulder—
and somehow, I felt more at peace
than I’ve ever felt in a church.

The band was playing The Scientist.
The crowd was singing.
Not screaming. Not performing.
Just… singing—together.

And for a moment, something happened.
Something I didn’t expect.
Something I still don’t fully understand.

I felt whole.
Like I belonged.
Like everyone around me belonged too.
No one was posturing.
No one was holding back.
We were just there.
In it. Together.

And the thought hit me hard:
I’ve never felt this in church.
Not once.

I’ve sung a thousand worship songs.
I’ve stood in countless sanctuaries.
I’ve bowed my head, raised my hands, followed the script.
But I’ve never felt that kind of peace.
That kind of union.

I’m not trying to make a point.
I don’t have a clean answer.
All I know is—something holy happened in that stadium.
And I’ve been trying to understand it ever since.

Maybe what I felt that night was belonging.
Maybe what I touched was union—
that rare, sacred sense that you’re not separate anymore.

And maybe that’s why loneliness hurts so much.
Because it isn’t just being alone.
It’s being disconnected.
It’s being in a room full of people and knowing—
no one’s really with you.

This isn’t a complaint.
It’s a memory.
It’s the moment I realized that what I’ve always longed for
wasn’t just belief or doctrine or community.
It was connection that feels like God.
And maybe—just maybe—
that’s what He’s always longed for too.