Find Your People: Building Deep Community in a Lonely World

by Jennie Allen

Is it possible that we (all of us, I mean) are asking the wrong question? Making friends, yes, that’s a concern—as is keeping them. But what if that intimate circle

we’re craving is actually found in the wider network of the village that we’ve been missing?

If I start to see that God has put different people in my life to bless me in different ways, then I can both embrace who they are and rest in what I bring to those relationships.

“The more resources a person gets, the more walls he or she puts up. And the more lonely they become.”

Be close to those we’re close to—that’s my goal for us. And it’s admittedly a stretch goal. Because most of us choose to hold on to friends from past residences and past lives, believing that since nobody who is right here in front of us will ever measure up to those precious people, why bother making new friends?

When we don’t have a village of interconnected, consistent teammates in our lives, we feel invisible, and when we are left alone and unbothered, we become the worst version of ourselves. Whether it is neighbors, or mentors, or grandparents, or our closest friends, we need people who see us. Who call us up and out.

don’t take criticism from just anyone. Choose the voices you intend to listen to. Give permission to only certain people to speak truth into your life.

When attachment with your first relationships breaks down in any way and for any reason, attachment becomes difficult and scary on any level. It’s why if you sign up for therapy tomorrow, in the first twenty minutes you’ll be asked about your relationship with your parents. The good news is that we can learn a better way to relate, and we absolutely can heal. I’ve experienced it. I was thirty years old when I sat down with my dad to tell him how I lived with a limp from the hurts he had inadvertently brought into my life. At the time I was a young parent myself but still didn’t realize how easy it is to wound your kids. I wrote my dad a six-page letter, three pages of gratitude and three pages of wounds, and read it aloud. It felt important. I had done the work, including years of counseling, but I had never shared with him the hurt that some of his behaviors had caused me. This was the day, and yet I couldn’t conceive of any good that would come from this conversation I knew I needed to have. First, I didn’t want to hurt my dad. Second, I couldn’t see how this would end well. Either my dad would criticize me, validating my worst fears, or he would shrug it off and casually say that he hadn’t

meant anything by his words and actions. In short, invalidating the hurts of my childhood. Here’s the beautiful truth about my earthly daddy: he loves Jesus, he loves his family, and he has spent his entire life trying to be a good father and a loving husband. As his daughter, I have so much to be thankful for. And yet I still walked away from my upbringing with baggage, hurt, and a bit of a spiraling identity crisis. We all carry attachment issues into adulthood because we all have sinners for parents. My dad listened to every word I said that day. He cried happy tears over my gratitude for tuck-ins and for his working tirelessly to provide for us. He cried bitter ones when I carefully explained how I’d often feared that I was never enough in his estimation. He cried. He listened. And then he did something I couldn’t have imagined prior to this conversation: he told me about his relationship with his mom and his dad. In short, he said, “Jennie, I messed up. It was my fault, not yours. And let me tell you where I first heard the message that I had to be perfect: it was from my mom and dad. I heard that message, I absorbed that message, and then I passed that message on to you.” We love others in the manner in which we ourselves were loved. Equally true: we tend to hurt others in the manner in which we ourselves have been hurt.

Choosing to stay is not easy, but whomever God has given you as your family… the moment you decide to accept them for who they are instead of constantly trying to get them to change… the moment you look for ways to serve your family and church instead of constantly expecting things from them… the moment you watch for opportunities to speak an encouraging word instead of questioning their every decision… the moment you seek out chances to love them well instead of spending your days anticipating awful exchanges with them… that might be the moment when you see your family and church changed. Perhaps you’ve heard of confirmation bias, which is when you find in the world exactly what you expect to find. Confirmation bias works here too. If you expect to find beauty in your family relationships,

you will find beauty. If you expect to find support, then you will find support. If you expect to find acceptance, then you will find acceptance.