I hear you. I’ve been there, and it’s a terrible thing to feel lost in a group — or a family — to go to the one place that ought to love you and find everyone so caught up in him/herself that your presence is barely noticed. It takes a rare leader to teach members how to reach out, how to look beyond themselves to others. And you’re right: in our society, even families aren’t taught how to love one another.

One more story. I was always very shy, terrified of being noticed–and at almost 5’11″ I was far too visible. One day I happened to be the first woman to arrive at a gathering, only to find five visitors already gathered at a table. I stood at the door, petrified. I knew I ought to greet them; I’d been raised with all the social graces. But, oh, I didn’t want to! I wanted to turn around and hide until someone else came to the rescue. Then the voice of the Lord thudded into my head: “Your shyness is sin. You’re so busy thinking about yourself and your needs that you’re missing what I want, which is that you think first of others’ needs.”

Whoa. Talk about a shock. Who would have thought being shy was displeasing to the Lord? But He had my attention, and when I obeyed, marching over there with my heart in my throat and sweat beading down my back to welcome that group of ladies, my life began to change. I, the tall shy girl who rarely spoke, became someone the Lord could trust with more — all because I’d been faithful in the small thing He asked of me.

So, my friend. People are always going to let you down, but the Lord is ever faithful. If you can remember in Whom we’re to trust, keeping your eyes focused heavenward instead of either on your own pain or others’ rejection, you may hear Him whisper just the faith-building words you need. And just perhaps, if you step out with your hand extended instead of waiting for someone to come to you, you’ll find a person in need of you at the other end. In the many years since that day when I looked beyond my fears into the faces of others, I’ve found countless people just waiting for someone to reach out to them. Imagine if I’d remained trapped inside myself? Oh, the smiles I’d have missed! And the friends I’d never have made.

Friendships may sound like a lousy reason to continue going to church but they can sure get you through the bad times when you feel like wandering off. I’ve wandered off myself on occasion and nobody noticed. Happily, that wouldn’t happen to me now.

There are people who are insecure and don’t know how to make themselves known or interact. They don’t know that a big church might be the worst place to go.

Well meaning people will foul up on you bad and not give you the same degree of love they give others. I dread a long slow health demise for this reason.

This is a great fault of our society. It’s worse in families where nobody wants you for anything unless they need something. And, yes, my own faith is weak.

I know God doesn’t love me more. So why did I meet and fall in love with Him while my brother didn’t/won’t and my daughter can’t get past offenses and my mother still thinks I’ve opted for the opiate of the masses?

But you’re right about one thing: if we as lovers of Christ don’t bother to try to find out why, if we don’t bother to call or visit or continue to love those who haven’t quite made the final leap or who have so much stuff going on inside that they miss the sweet voice of Jesus calling them back, then we’re like the watchman who’s going to have a whole lot of questions to answer one day.

A personal note: God suggested I start making weekly phone calls to my old-maid aunt. In those days I had occasional contact with her on holidays; nothing more. She hated the church (which meant God to her) because she’d taken offense in her youth. She was then in her late seventies.

Obeying that directive wasn’t easy. When I started calling, she’d “Umph” at my hello.I always ended the conversation with, “I love you.” It wasn’t long before my mother phoned to say her sister didn’t want any mention of the “L” word. Period. Please desist. I refused. “Umph.” “I love you.” For three months. Thanksgiving came. My aunt stood in my mother’s kitchen and said, “I love you,” for probably the first time in her life.

When she needed a caretaker, my son and I were available. God in His symbiotic way provided for each of us. By the time she died nine years later, she had met the Lord and now dances with Him.

Obedience isn’t always easy. But if we hang in there, it reaps rewards we can’t even imagine.