By Alden Bass
In a recent Atlantic article (“The Anti-Social Century,” January 2025), Derek Thompson presents a troubling portrait of contemporary American life: we are spending more time alone than ever before.
While the NCN Gathering last summer explored “The Epidemic of Loneliness,” Thompson’s research highlights something different but related. Isolation is not the same as loneliness. Loneliness is an emotional response—the painful feeling that our social connections don't meet our needs. Isolation, by contrast, is a behavioral pattern—the objective state of being physically separated from others. What makes our current moment unique is that solitude levels are surging while many measures of loneliness remain flat or are dropping. We seem to be acclimatizing to isolation, even though studies consistently show that human connection is fundamental to wellbeing.
Thompson documents that Americans are spending less time with other people than in any period since reliable data collection began in 1965. Between 2003 and 2023, in-person socializing decreased by more than 20%, with even steeper declines among unmarried men and people under 25. This trend began before the pandemic and has continued after it was declared over.
This isolation manifests in countless aspects of everyday life:
Restaurant traffic has shifted dramatically from dining in to takeout, with solo dining increasing by 29% in just two years
Men watch seven hours of television for every hour they spend socializing outside their home
Pet owners often spend more time actively engaged with their pets than with human friends
The time Americans spend caring for people outside their nuclear family has declined by more than a third
We have reconfigured our lives to maximize convenience, privacy, and independent choice, often at the expense of community. We've built bigger homes with more private spaces. We've traded restaurant dining for food delivery apps. We've replaced physical gatherings with digital interactions. The result is what Thompson calls “the anti-social century,” where solitude is not merely a temporary respite but a default way of living.
“What makes our communities radical is not primarily our beliefs, but our practices—our commitment to share life together in ways that directly challenge the architecture of isolation.”
For Christians who understand humanity as fundamentally relational—created in the image of a Triune God who exists in eternal loving community—this isolation trend represents more than a social concern. It constitutes a spiritual crisis.
Thompson notes that architect Clifton Harness has observed that contemporary apartments are primarily “built for Netflix and chill,” with every room designed to accommodate screen time. Real estate developer Bobby Fijan puts it bluntly: “I think we're building for aloneness.”
This architecture of isolation mirrors a deeper spiritual architecture—a vision of the good life centered on individual comfort rather than mutual care. The costs of this isolation are high. We’re seeing increased rates of anxiety and depression, especially among young people, and the erosion of skills for managing conflict and tolerating difference. Political scientists have identified what they call “the need for chaos”—a nihilistic political outlook particularly common among socially isolated individuals. Research shows that the diminished life satisfaction from increased alone time is comparable to a 10% drop in household income.
This is where Christian intentional communities offer a distinctly countercultural witness. What makes our communities radical is not primarily our beliefs, but our practices—our commitment to share life together in ways that directly challenge the architecture of isolation.
Christian communities offer critical alternatives to dominant cultural patterns. While the housing market maximizes private space, communities intentionally design for encounter—creating common areas for meals, prayer, and casual interaction. We recognize that convenience often comes at the cost of connection. In a culture where socializing has become optional, our communities establish regular patterns of gathering—for meals, worship, work, and recreation. These rhythms aren’t merely social events but spiritual disciplines that form us into people capable of sustained relationship.
In age-segregated America, where young adults are particularly vulnerable to isolation, intentional communities create opportunities for meaningful interaction across generations—allowing elders to mentor youth and children to bring joy to seniors. As Thompson notes, one casualty of isolation is our capacity to navigate difference. When we primarily encounter opposing views online, we're more likely to demonize those who disagree. Intentional communities create what sociologist Marc Dunkelman calls “the middle ring”—relationships that are “familiar but not intimate,” where we learn to live alongside those who differ from us.
Richard Reeves, quoted in Thompson's article, notes that isolation deprives people of “neededness”—the sense that we are essential to others. Christian communities create structures of mutual responsibility where each person's gifts and presence matter to the whole.
Surprisingly, Thompson concludes his article with a reference to religious communities and their potential role in addressing our isolation crisis. He writes about the Social Gospel movement of the early 20th century, which expanded Christianity from personal salvation to social justice. Thompson suggests that what we might need today is what could be called a “Relational Gospel”—a movement that expands from individual spirituality to embodied community.
This reference is striking coming from a mainstream publication like The Atlantic, but it points to a profound truth: the early Christians were known for their distinctive pattern of life—for sharing possessions, caring for the vulnerable, and eating together across social boundaries. This way of living was as much their testimony as their verbal witness.
Similarly, in the anti-social century, Christian intentional communities offer not just words about community but demonstrations of it. Our shared meals, common purses, intergenerational households, and practices of hospitality represent a lived alternative to isolation—one that stems not from nostalgia but from the kingdom Jesus proclaimed.
The isolation crisis Thompson documents represents both a challenge and an opportunity for Christian communities. It calls us to examine how consumer preferences and technological convenience may have shaped our own habits more than we realize. It also reveals the prophetic potential of our shared life as a witness to a culture hungry for connection but unsure how to find it.
As Martin Luther King Jr. reminded us, the goal is not just avoiding isolation but creating “the beloved community”—a society where people recognize their interdependence and treat each other with justice and care. In a world building for aloneness, Christian intentional communities can help build for belonging—offering not just critique of isolation but a joyful alternative.
Alden is a member of the NCN steering committee and teaches at Lipscomb University in Nashville.