No matter how many friends I had, I have always felt like I didn’t fit in.

In grade school I was too nerdy and artistic.

In high school, I was too awkward and shy

In college, I was too introverted, and then after I took three years off for a health ordeal, was too old.

In my work, I’ve often been the only man, or only white person in the room.

I first saw these things as crosses to bear.

I came to see them as opportunities to connect with people across dividing lines.

But I realize, at the same time, I’ve often created my own reasons why I didn’t have the privilege of being human.

Psychology talks about avoidance patterns. These are broken coping mechanisms, behavioral responses in which someone consistently steers clear of situations, emotions, or thoughts that trigger discomfort or anxiety, often providing temporary relief but ultimately hindering personal growth.

Avoiding intimacy to maintain distance is a pattern with which I can identify.

It’s a safe space. It’s cold, and painful, but it’s safe.

It’s a weird thing, because I’m a minister. I gather others, in part to offer them the sense of belonging I always lacked.

But I’ve also often exempted myself. I’ve always kept people at a certain distance. I allow them into my heart, but not my hurt.

Like, I’ve always just concluded that nobody can handle it, that my humanity would be detrimental to their spiritual health.

And that’s crazy, because who am I?

And yet, I feel like I’m probably not alone in this.

Maybe that’s you today, too.

So as I step into 2025, I am leaving behind my arbitrary self-exemptions from community.

I’m leaving my safe spaces where the real me is classified information.

And I invite you to join me there.

Let’s pray.

Father, I give you praise today.

And I thank you that we are better together

We don’t grow in isolation; we grow in community.

You have not designed us to live secret lives of safety. If we end up there, it’s not because you sent us. We get hurt. We trust people, and they let us down. And then we conclude that our best course of action is to trust no-one again. We conclude we’re not supposed to get close to people. But maybe just weren’t supposed to get close to those people.

An internet meme says: “You will be too raw for some people. You will be too loud, too big, too fierce, too quiet, too deep. These are not your people.”

Forgive us, Father, for countering your instructions concerning life based on the sins of others. Forgive us for thinking your Word couldn’t overcome our hurt.

Also, maybe we just weren’t safe in that season.

You allow seasons of lack to prepare us for abundance.

You allow experiences of tribulation to strengthen us for life.

I don’t know why we’ve experienced the particular forms of rejection and alienation that we have.

I just know that even these are working together for our good.

I pray today that we would not allow betrayal to change us.

I pray we would keep looking for our people. And I pray, as we find them, that we would seek agreement with them. 1 Corinthians 1:10 says: “I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree with one another in what you say and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be perfectly united in mind and thought.”

Father, may we never confuse unity with uniformity. This is often a justification for isolation. If 100% of the words of someone’s mouth, don’t agree with 100% of the meditations of our hearts, we think we can’t be friends. You do not call us to have the same ideas. You call us to have values that are in harmony with each other. And one of those values, for healthy community is to love people enough to meet them where they are. None of us are perfect. None of us have arrived. Forgive us the façade-based living that has encouraged others to think that if they were not a completed work they did not belong. Forgive us for limiting out testimonies to the troubles we had in 1995. We have plenty of trouble right now.

Thank you, Father, for welcoming us to walk in the light.

1 John 1:7 NIV says “But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.”

Walking in the light is an act of transparency. It doesn’t mean that we, as believers, have left behind darkness and do only good. It means that we have left behind secrets and tell only truth. It means being honest about out struggles. It means being accountable to people, and not just performing our faith.

It also means being able and willing to hear others are more human than we would perhaps like to imagine.

1 Thessalonians 5:14 NIV says “And we urge you, brothers and sisters, warn those who are idle and disruptive, encourage the disheartened, help the weak, be patient with everyone.”

I pray that we would strive to be safe spaces for other people. The notion of a “safe space” is often met with contempt, usually by people announcing the limits of their capacity for empathy. In the absence of safety, however, there is no intimacy, no healing, no growth and often very little truth.

I pray that houses of prayer would become houses of truth. In LUKE 12:1-3, Jesus says

Be on your guard against the yeast of the Pharisees, which is hypocrisy. ² There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known. ³ What you have said in the dark will be heard in the daylight, and what you have whispered in the ear in the inner rooms will be proclaimed from the roofs.

We shall know the truth, and the truth shall set us free.

Embolden us to speak truth.

Give us grace to be safe.

And give us peace with your people.

I pray, in Jesus’s name. Amen.

(Photo Credit: Shiva Kumar Reddy)