Me, Myself, and I No More
There’s something about friendships and faith that has been sitting heavily on my heart lately.
A sermon from 2819 Church about friendship and faith made me reflect on the people around me, but even more on the kind of person life has slowly shaped me into.
For the longest time, my survival mode was simple:
Me, myself, and I.
Handle it alone.
Need nobody.
Expect little.
Depend on myself.
That mindset came from broken trust, disappointment, and learning that relying on myself often felt safer than relying on others.
The Walls We Build
Trust has never come easily to me.
More than once, the trust I gave was taken for granted. The loyalty I offered was not valued. Even the kindness I gave was sometimes exploited.
There were moments when good intentions were mistaken for weakness, and kindness was treated like something to use rather than appreciate.
So each time it happened, another brick was added to the wall.
More caution.
More distance.
More protection.
That is what pain often teaches us.
Every time I lowered the walls and allowed myself to be vulnerable, it seemed to backfire. And little by little, protecting myself became easier than trusting again.
But despite everything, I refuse to become cynical.
I refuse to let disappointment harden me into someone cold or bitter. I still believe kindness matters. I still believe loyalty has value. And even if I have to guard my peace more carefully now, I will never regret having a trusting heart.
Because the walls may protect us — but they should never become who we are.
And Scripture reminds me:
“Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.” — Proverbs 4:23
Guarding the heart does not mean hardening it.
That distinction matters.
Because somewhere along the way, self-protection can quietly become isolation.
No One Is Fully at Fault
Through broken friendships and relationships, I have often believed that no one is entirely at fault.
Maybe that is how I make peace with things.
I usually believe both people played a part somehow — through actions, silence, timing, wounds, pride, or simply misunderstanding.
That mindset helps me avoid bitterness.
Because blame traps us.
Reflection frees us.
“Why do you look at the speck in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?” — Matthew 7:3
Instead of only asking who hurt me, I try to ask what God may be teaching me through it.
Everyone Comes With a Purpose
I believe everyone enters our life — and we enter theirs — for a reason.
Some come to love us.
Some come to teach us.
Some reveal wounds we did not realize still needed healing.
Some stay only for a season.
Maybe God places people in our path, and when the purpose is fulfilled, it becomes time for them to leave.
“To everything there is a season…” — Ecclesiastes 3:1
Not every ending is failure.
Sometimes it is growth.
Sometimes people need to leave so they can come back as a better version of themselves.
Sometimes I need to leave so I can become a better version of myself too.
Distance does not always mean destruction.
Sometimes it means development.
Still Choosing Kindness
I know my kindness and trusting nature have sometimes made it easier for people to disrespect me.
But that was still their choice.
And I refuse to let the wrong choices of others change who I am.
“Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” — Romans 12:21
So I will continue trying to be kind.
I will continue trying to support people.
I will continue trying to be the best friend I can be to whoever God places in my life.
Not because people always deserve it, but because Christ has been merciful to me too.
The Circle We Keep
The sermon talked about different kinds of friendships.
Some sharpen you.
Some drain you.
Some help you grow.
Some keep you stuck.
Some disappear when life gets difficult.
Some show up exactly when you need them most.
“Walk with the wise and become wise…” — Proverbs 13:20
The people around us shape more than we realize.
Our habits.
Our mindset.
Our priorities.
Even our faith.
And sometimes we do not notice the influence until we are already drifting.
The Real Test of Friendship
Real friendship is not proven when life is easy.
It is proven in difficult moments.
Who answers at 3 in the morning?
Who comes when life falls apart?
Who checks on you when you suddenly go quiet?
Who tells you the truth when you are drifting?
“A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.” — Proverbs 17:17
I want to be one of those people.
Someone others know they can rely on.
Not just during celebrations, but during suffering too.
Surrogate Faith
One thing from the sermon stayed with me deeply:
Sometimes when a friend is weak in faith, that is when we carry enough faith for both of us.
Life today is loud.
Busy.
Distracting.
Exhausting.
Even as Christians, it becomes easy to drift without realizing it.
Not always through rebellion.
Sometimes simply through exhaustion.
Work consumes us.
Stress overwhelms us.
Disappointments pile up.
Our minds become crowded.
Our spirits become tired.
And sometimes faith is not lost all at once.
Sometimes it slowly fades beneath the weight of life.
That is why godly friendships matter so much.
Because there are seasons when someone else prays for us when we no longer have the strength to pray for ourselves.
There are seasons when someone reminds us of God’s promises when our own mind is filled with doubt.
There are seasons when someone keeps checking on us because they notice we are becoming spiritually distant even before we notice it ourselves.
Sometimes we do not realize how far we are drifting until someone lovingly reaches back for us.
Sometimes God keeps us standing through the faithfulness of the people around us.
I think about the man carried by his friends to Jesus.
He could not get there alone.
But his friends carried him until he reached Christ.
Sometimes we become that man.
And sometimes we become the friends carrying someone else.
“Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.” — Galatians 6:2
Learning to Receive Too
For most of my life, I knew how to give more than receive.
I knew how to survive alone.
But I am learning that strength is not always isolation.
It is okay to ask for help.
It is okay to need people.
It is okay to let others carry us sometimes.
I also recently realized something deeper:
When someone genuinely wants to help me and I automatically say no, I may actually be robbing them of the opportunity to serve, bless, or love someone the way Christ calls us to.
Sometimes receiving is not weakness.
Sometimes receiving is allowing someone else to walk in obedience and kindness too.
And maybe that applies spiritually as well.
Sometimes allowing others to pray for us, encourage us, and help carry our faith during difficult seasons is not weakness either.
Maybe that is part of how God designed the body of Christ to function.
Not as isolated individuals trying to survive alone.
But as people helping one another keep walking toward Him.
What I Know Now
I may have lived in survival mode before.
Me, myself, and I.
But I do not have to stay there.
I can be wise without becoming closed off.
I can trust carefully without losing my heart.
I can learn from pain without becoming bitter.
I can remain kind in a world that often is not.
I can let others help me when needed.
I can help carry others when they are weak.
And when my own faith feels tired, I can allow trusted people to help carry me too.
Because none of us were meant to walk through life completely alone.
“As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.” — Proverbs 27:17
