Be More Intentional

I've been doing a lot of reflecting lately on what it means to be intentional with people.

From the outside, I imagine it looks like I have tons of friends. I'm always talking to someone, connecting with people, making plans, bringing people together, and finding ways to invest in others. But what people don't always see is that I often feel incredibly lonely.

There are moments when the enemy gets loud in my ear, whispering that I'm not really part of the "in crowd." When I see friends make plans without me, and I'm left to find out about it on Facebook. The enemy says that I'm on the outside looking in. That perhaps I'm everyone's friend, but not necessarily someone's first thought. That I'm good at showing up for others, but sometimes wonder who would show up for me.

And if I'm being honest, some of that has changed the way I approach relationships.

Don't get me wrong, I am incredibly blessed with friends. I only had 4 days of a 19 day hospital stay where no one visited. I do have people checking in and adventuring with me. I am not alone. That is not what I am saying.

Because of hurts from my past, I've become hesitant to be the first one to reach out. Hesitant to send the message, make the plans, or initiate the conversation. I've grown tired of feeling like I'm always the glue holding things together. Tired of wondering whether a friendship would continue if I stopped being the one to maintain it.

But recently, I've been challenged to look at this differently.

What if being intentional isn't about what I get in return, but about the kind of person I choose to become?

What if some of us really are meant to be the glue?

Not because we are responsible for holding every relationship together. Not because we should chase people who continually show us they don't want to be present. Not because we should exhaust ourselves trying to earn a place at someone's table.

But because we recognize the value of connection, and we are willing to do something about it.

Not everyone will stick. Some people will come into your life for a season. Some friendships will grow into something beautiful, while others will quietly fade. Some people will reciprocate your efforts, and others won't. And there will be times when you have to recognize that stepping back is the healthiest and wisest thing you can do.

But I don't want the disappointments of yesterday to dictate how I love people tomorrow.

I don't want past rejection to make me hesitant to extend an invitation. I don't want previous hurt to make me stop celebrating others. I don't want the fear of being forgotten to cause me to forget others. And I certainly don't want to become so preoccupied with who remembers me that I stop remembering the people around me.

So, I'm choosing intentionality.

I'm choosing to send the text, even when I was the last one to reach out. I'm choosing to check in, not because someone has earned it, but because I genuinely care. I choose to send the message and invite to the person who does not answer or doesn't show up when asked. I'm choosing to schedule the coffee dates, initiate the gatherings, remember the little details, celebrate the victories, ask the harder questions, and make room for people at the table.

I'm choosing to be the person who follows up when someone says they're having a hard week. The person who remembers the anniversary, the appointment, the big day, or the thing someone mentioned in passing. The person who doesn't just say, "Let me know if you need anything," but actually finds a way to show up.

Because sometimes, loving people well looks like paying attention.

And I think we need to talk about that.

We have become so accustomed to waiting. Waiting for someone to text first. Waiting for an invitation. Waiting for someone to notice we're missing. Waiting for someone to ask how we're doing. Waiting for someone else to organize the gathering, extend the kindness, or bridge the distance.

But what if we stopped waiting?

What if we became a little more proactive in our friendships, our families, our churches, and our communities?

What if we stopped assuming people know they matter to us and actually told them? What if we stopped assuming someone else will check on the quiet person? What if we noticed who is sitting alone, who hasn't been around lately, who seems a little heavier than usual, and who might just need someone to take the first step?

You don't have to be someone's closest friend to make them feel less alone.

You don't have to have a title, a position, or a special invitation to make someone feel included. You don't have to wait until you have the perfect words to encourage someone. Sometimes, a simple "I was thinking about you" is enough to remind someone that they haven't been forgotten.

And I want to be clear about something: intentionality is not the same as overextending yourself. It doesn't mean chasing people, begging for a place in someone's life, or continually pouring into relationships that are hurting you. There is wisdom in boundaries. There is a time to step back. There is a difference between being the glue and being the only person holding something together.

I am still learning to balance pouring into others with allowing others to pour into me. I'm learning that receiving love is just as important as giving it. I'm learning that I don't have to be everything for everyone, and that even the person who encourages others needs encouragement, too.

But I refuse to let the hurt of not always being included turn me into someone who stops including others.

Galatians 6:9 reminds us not to grow weary in doing good. And Hebrews 10:24–25 challenges us to consider how we might spur one another on toward love and good deeds.

I think that challenge extends into the ordinary moments of our everyday lives.

So here's my challenge, both to myself and to you:

Be the first.

Send the message. Make the phone call. Extend the invitation. Check on the person. Celebrate the achievement. Remember the details. Make room at the table. Introduce yourself. Invite someone into the conversation. Be willing to inconvenience yourself a little to make someone else feel seen.

And don't just do it for the people who can do something for you in return.

Do it because people matter. Because relationships matter. Because the Church should be a place where people are known, not just noticed. Because community doesn't happen accidentally. It takes people who are willing to cultivate it.

Imagine how different our world might look if we spent less time wondering who was going to reach out to us and more time looking for opportunities to reach out to others.

Imagine how many lonely people might feel remembered. How many newcomers might feel welcomed. How many friendships might begin. How many people might discover that they actually have a place at the table.

I can't promise that everyone will reciprocate. I can't promise that everyone will stay. But I can decide what kind of person I want to be in the meantime.

I want to be intentional.

I want to love people well. I want to cultivate meaningful relationships. I want to be someone who notices, remembers, invites, encourages, and shows up.

And perhaps, in a world where so many people are waiting for someone else to make the first move, one of the most beautiful things we can do is simply be willing to make it.

Don't let the absence of intentionality from others determine the presence of intentionality in you.

Be the glue. Be the invitation. Be the encouragement. Be the person who makes someone feel like they belong.

And while you're doing that, remember that you deserve to be loved intentionally, too.