Doing life alone isn’t something I would’ve ever considered myself as doing. How could I be doing life alone when I’m a wife, mom to four kids, sister to six siblings, sister-in-law to five brothers, and aunt to 20, plus many other relatives, friends, and acquaintances?
Actually, I’d tell you the opposite. I’m quite frankly never alone.
I have always valued relationships and making sure that my people feel loved and seen by me. I thought I understood Christian community, but didn’t fully realize what I was missing until God started creating something new for me.
I set out with a mission to help others, speak into others’ lives, and bridge the gap between Sunday morning and Wednesday afternoon. I didn’t know God would open my eyes, create in me a passion to share life groups with everyone, and reveal how much I needed it just as much as anyone else.
When Community Stayed on the Surface
To me, Christian community was Sundays at church, occasionally reaching out and talking throughout the week with a small select few who were close friends, quarterly gatherings to grow community, and a yearly service project.
These were people I thought I knew well, but honestly, I can say now that most of those relationships never went past the surface. It’s really easy to fake it for a few short hours and never let ourselves be fully known.
I knew the people I was in community with had a heart to serve God on a Sunday, but I didn’t know their struggles the rest of the week. I saw their very best, not the true person behind the smile.
And if we’re being honest, very few knew the true me either.
There wasn’t anything terrible about the real me. I wasn’t a serial killer or running from the law. But I did—and do—have struggles, as any honest human does.
Unknowingly, I was enabling bad behaviors by letting a charade play out on Sunday and never going deeper. I thought I was supporting community and a support system, but I didn’t know what was missing.
Healthy, strong life groups and church accountability hadn’t been modeled for me. I didn’t understand that what we were creating was an inch deep and a mile wide. I was blind to the need for deeply rooted relationships with people who hold one another accountable and truly do life together.
When God Started Building Something Different
When we felt called to open our home, pray over who God would have us invite, and then act in obedience, I had no idea what God was doing.
I thought I was going to help God strengthen marriages, be an example to those who came, and serve through that framework—like God actually needed my help….
I didn’t realize that God was going to break down walls and create an intimate group where all of our struggles would be safe to talk about.
We would create a bond that required multiple check-ins throughout the week, almost-daily phone calls, and conversations rooted deeply in God, His plan, and obedience.
There would be raw, vulnerable conversations, sometimes with tears. Conversations would turn into prayers, and prayers would turn into answers—sometimes what we asked for and other times the opposite.
The first few weeks of our new in-home Bible study were much like any other Bible study we’d been a part of: casual conversation, some reading, a video, homework discussion, and well wishes until the next week.
Then God started changing up the group.
Some people left. Some people joined. Some people brought friends, and God called some people to a new area.
When the first study ended, we prayed about what God wanted us to do next. We landed in a study of Ephesians, which built our knowledge, deepened our understanding, prompted self-reflection, and spurred us toward deeper community.
By the end of the summer, we had a core group. People who had said, “We see the difference. We need this in our lives,” and were committed to whatever God had for us.
At first, we wondered what we had done wrong or why people weren’t staying. As we reflected, God showed us we hadn’t done anything wrong to make people leave. We are all in different walks of life and have different needs and priorities in different seasons.
God was creating a smaller group for us where we could safely share intimate parts of our lives. He was creating depth among families who wanted to do life together and ultimately serve God in whatever capacity He asked.
We were growing deep roots in Christ. These were no longer surface-level relationships.
When the Sunday Answers Stopped
Conversations got deeper. Walls came down. Honesty came out.
No one met it with judgment or wrath, but with empathy and understanding. None of us are perfect, and knowing and realizing that made it so much easier to share our own struggles.
I remember one of the first times I realized someone in the life group wasn’t giving me the “Sunday answer” anymore.
She didn’t just agree with me because it’s girl code. She called me out for something I had done against my husband. She didn’t just hear my story and say, “You were right.” She heard my story, and she called out my sin.
She wasn’t giving me a Sunday morning answer anymore. We had gone deeper.
She didn’t tell me what I wanted to hear; she protected my husband, my marriage, and ultimately me.
I think this was one of the first times I realized how different these relationships were. I wasn’t upset or hurt by what she said. Instead, I felt deeply loved, seen, and cared for. I wasn’t confrontational. I paused, I sat in it, and I knew she was right.
This is what life group is for.
Life group isn’t meant to replace Sunday church; it’s meant to get us through a Tuesday.
Hebrews 3:13 says, “But encourage one another daily, as long as it is called ‘Today,’ so that none of you may be hardened by sin’s deceitfulness.”
I think that word daily matters. We need people in our lives who will encourage us, point us back to Jesus, and love us enough to tell us the truth—not just on Sunday, but in the middle of an ordinary Tuesday.
We hold one another accountable. We reach out, we’re vulnerable, and we ask for help. We look to the Bible for answers before we just respond or give advice. In love and with the right motives, we say the hard things.
This understanding was huge for me. It showed me how much more depth there is, and now I welcome the hard conversations. I want to hear what others think I need to be working on, where I’m wrong, or how I could improve. The depth of these conversations brings so many more dimensions to our relationships; it feels like an honor to get to that level.
However—call it pride; I’m working on it—you have to earn the right to have these conversations with me.
The women and men in my group have earned that right. They know me deeply, they create a safe space, and they always have my best interests in mind. They are for me, even when they have hard things to tell me.
The Cost of Being Deeply Known
Just this weekend, the vibe felt off. I had some heaviness on my mind. I’m overly stressed with school, coaching, working, homeschooling, harvest season—you know, just the day-to-day fun. I was withdrawn because of my mental load.
I reached out to some of the ladies in my group and said, “Hey, I felt off this weekend. Did you notice anything in me that needs an attitude adjustment or a tune-up?”
I genuinely wanted honest, truthful answers.
Ultimately, we all agreed it wasn’t any one thing or one person; overall, everyone felt like there was a funk going around.
And I have confidence in that answer because I know that if I was doing something, they would have lovingly told me, and I would have been able to take it and turn it around.
Being deeply known has cost me something.
It has cost me my walls and my fake facade. I can’t simply hide behind a smile anymore; they know me too well. I can say I’m good, everything is fine, and if it’s not, they immediately know.
But being deeply known has also given me so much life, hope, depth, accountability, and extended family.
I often wonder how we got through without a life group before.
It has given me women I trust who come alongside me in ministry and ask, “How can we help?”
They don’t just say it.
They show up.
They put in the time. They surround me in ways that I couldn’t even articulate that I need. They serve, they see needs before I do, they pray, they read, and they keep me grounded.
They have given me a team that I could never have put together on my own.
God is really cool like that.
What It Cost Me
Some situations have truly felt like the world would’ve crumbled around us had we not been surrounded by
people spurring one another on—not through a fake interaction on Sunday, but through a raw encounter on Tuesday.
Our passion grew, and our understanding was opened. God didn’t create us to do life together for one hour on Sunday. He created us to do life together every single day—to hold one another accountable, confess our sins, and strive to be more Christlike every single day.
To have our mistakes acknowledged and seen, but not to stay there.
Not for shame, but for healing.
To bring these issues into the light so the enemy has no stronghold over us.
Creating this has cost me my walls and my ability to hide behind a smile.
Ultimately, it has cost me my fakeness.
And if we look at the whole picture, that’s not actually a loss.
