I have heard a lot of teaching on how humans were made for relationship. Right back in Genesis, God creates Adam and says, “It is not good for man to be alone.” When no suitable companion is found among the animals, God creates Eve. From the very beginning, aloneness was not part of the design.
That truth has been driven home for me over the last couple of years. God has brought some really amazing people into my life. I now have a strong network of people I can call on when I am struggling which, let’s be honest, is not a rare occurrence. There are people who pray, people who listen, people who sit with me in silence, and people who gently challenge me when I need it.
If we were to wind the clock back ten years, I never would have imagined I would have this kind of community around me. I was more of a lone wolf. I helped others readily, but I rarely reached out for help myself. Somewhere along the way I had convinced myself that strength meant self sufficiency. In reality, it was fear. Fear of being known too well. Fear of being a burden. Fear of what might happen if I let people see the cracks.
Now, it feels less like I am walking a tightrope alone and more like there is a strong safety net beneath me. People who notice when I wobble. People who pray. People who listen. People who sometimes hold faith for me when mine feels fragile.
Last year I moved, leaving friends and family behind for a new adventure. It was exciting, but it was also tough. I had come to rely on those people, on their love and support, sometimes even on their faith when mine felt uncertain. Starting again risking being vulnerabe. To open up. To trust. New friendships have formed. New names have been added to my support network. And I hope, in some small way, I have become part of that network for others too.
It is hard to walk through this world. It is almost impossible to do it alone. But we were never meant to.
One of my favourite stories from Jesus’ ministry, recorded in the Gospel of Luke, tells of a woman who had been bleeding for twelve years. That meant she was considered unclean. She was cut off from normal community life. Isolated. On the outside. Doctors had been unable to heal her. Human solutions had run out.
Her only hope lay in reaching for Jesus. What I love about this story is that Jesus does not let her slip away unnoticed. He stops. He searches for her. And when she explains, he says, “Daughter, your faith has healed you.”
Daughter.
She is the only person Jesus addresses in that way. In a single word, he restores more than her body. He restores her identity. He restores her belonging. He draws her back into relationship. She is no longer an outcast reaching from the margins. She is family.
I think that is what community does at its best. It reminds us who we are. It calls us back from the edges. It gives us somewhere to stand when our legs are shaking.
If I have learned anything over the last decade, it is this: strength is not found in standing alone. It is found in letting yourself be known. In reaching out when every instinct says withdraw. In allowing others to carry hope for you when yours flickers low, and in being willing to do the same for them.
Letting people in can be frightening. Vulnerability always carries risk. But isolation carries a cost too. And in my experience, the gift of being known, supported and loved has been far greater than the fear.
I would not be where I am today without the people God has woven into my story. And I am deeply, deeply grateful.
The Reason for my Hope Blog 