I used to think I was just an introvert. After years of working from home, I have had plenty of time to reflect. I’ve realized it’s not that I’m an introvert in the classic sense; it’s that I’ve become selective about who I open my life up to. I crave genuine connection, not just interaction. I want to feel that there’s an equal balance in a relationship, a place where I truly feel seen and heard.
This isn’t just a personal quirk. It’s a deep, spiritual, and emotional need. Scripture doesn’t just praise friendship; it praises wise friendship. “A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother” (Proverbs 18:24, ESV). We are all searching for that closer than a brother connection in a world that often offers us unreliable ones.
This need is profound for those in ministry. Pastors and church leaders are often the loneliest people in the building. They are surrounded by people who want something from them—a sermon, a decision, counseling, a vision. They crave a safe, reciprocal friendship where they can be a person, not just a pastor. They need to protect their peace to survive.
Think of the biblical figures who were isolated by their calling. Moses, alone on the mountain, while the people partied below. Elijah, fleeing to a cave, convinced he was the only one left. Even Jesus, constantly withdrawing from the crowds to find quiet, to be with His Father, and to connect with His inner circle. He didn’t give everyone the same level of access, and neither should we.
Loneliness research distinguishes between social isolation (being alone) and emotional loneliness (feeling alone). You can be in a crowded church lobby and feel emotionally, profoundly lonely. The antidote isn’t just more people; it’s what researchers call reciprocity.
Genuine connection is a two-way street. It thrives on mutual vulnerability and shared trust. It’s the iron sharpens iron of Proverbs 27:17 (ESV)—both pieces of iron are active; one isn’t just passively being helped by the other. A one-way relationship, where one person does all the giving and the other does all the taking, isn’t a friendship; it’s a ministry, and it will burn you out.
So, how do we find this?
First, conduct a relationship audit. This isn’t about being cold or transactional; it’s about wise stewardship of your energy. Look at the people in your life. Who represents a reciprocal, iron sharpens iron connection? Who are you pouring into, and who is pouring back into you? Invest your limited social energy in those mutual friendships first. It’s better to have one or two deep friendships than ten shallow acquaintances.
For those in leadership, stop measuring community by attendance numbers and start measuring it by connection. Create small, intentional spaces (like triads or quads) with the explicit goal of mutual vulnerability, not just a curriculum. And most importantly, model it. Find your own “closer than a brother” friends and be public about the fact that you need them. Being selective isn’t un-Christian. It isn’t a rejection of fellowship. It’s a wise pursuit of the very kind of fellowship the Bible holds as the standard.
This is Part 3 of our 5-part series on loneliness. Protecting our peace allows us to invest in true community. But what do we do when that community feels impossible to find, and we’re left feeling totally alone?
Catch up on the series: Read Part 1: “Beyond the Pity Project” and Read Part 2: “Please, Don’t Fix Me. Just Hear Me.” Come back tomorrow for Part 4: “Breaking the Stranglehold of Loneliness.”