There are a lot of things I love about being a dad. I love the cuddles. I love reliving my childhood hobbies through my son—because let’s be honest, Legos are still elite well into your 30s. But there’s one thing I didn’t expect to appreciate so deeply until becoming a parent: being alone.
Alone time becomes precious cargo once kids enter the picture. And if we’re honest, many of us genuinely enjoy our space. Silence. Margin. No demands. No conversations. Just us.
And while solitude can be healthy and necessary, there’s a truth we often ignore: some things simply cannot be done alone.
You can’t build a symphony orchestra by yourself. You can’t field a football team solo. You can’t even marry yourself—despite a few creative attempts. Certain outcomes require people. Community. Togetherness. And the same is true of your spiritual life.
—
The Myth of the Self-Sustaining Faith
Many of us have absorbed the idea that our faith is a private, individual endeavor. My Bible. My prayer life. My relationship with God. And while personal responsibility matters—Romans 12 tells us to keep our spiritual fervor burning. There’s a crucial tension we often miss:
You are responsible for your fire, but your fire needs more than just you to survive.
Spiritual fire was never designed to be a solo flame. From the very beginning, God made this clear. After Jesus rose from the dead and ascended into heaven, there was a moment where the early followers could have coasted. The hard part was over, right? Salvation accomplished. Heaven secured. Time to relax.
But that’s not what happened.
Scripture says, “They all joined together.” About 120 believers gathered in one place. And when the day of Pentecost came—during a massive Jewish festival packed with people—they were all together.
That’s when it happened.
A sound like a rushing wind filled the room. Flames appeared and rested on each person. They were filled with the Holy Spirit—the very presence of God.
Fire came to a community, not to isolated individuals. And from that moment on, the pattern never changed. They met together. They ate together. They worshiped together. They grew together. Christianity didn’t spread through private spirituality. It spread through shared fire.
—
Fire Must Spread to Survive
Here’s the principle we cannot afford to ignore:
Fire must spread to survive.
God’s vision for your faith isn’t a small, manageable flame you quietly maintain on your own. His design is communal. A shared fire that burns hotter, brighter, and stronger because many flames contribute to it.
When God launched the Church, He didn’t hand fire to individuals scattered across the landscape. He gave fire to people who were together. And ever since, He’s been adding to that fire one life at a time.
This is where Hebrews 10 brings incredible clarity:
“Let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together… but encouraging one another.”
Notice the connection. The writer doesn’t just say, “Don’t stop meeting together.” He says don’t stop meeting together so that you can encourage one another. Togetherness isn’t the goal. Encouragement is. And encouragement, biblically speaking, is far more than being nice.
—
Encouragement Is Combustible
The word encourage literally means to call someone to yourself. In the ancient world, the imagery tied to this word was pitch and dry fiber—highly flammable materials brought close enough for a spark to catch.
Encouragement is proximity. It’s closeness. It’s creating conditions where God can ignite something.
When we gather with the intention of encouraging one another, we are piling kindling onto the fire. We’re making space for God to do what only He can do.
This is why Scripture keeps hammering this point:
· Encourage one another daily.
· Build each other up.
· Strengthen and encourage believers.
· Be mutually encouraged by one another’s faith.
Even the Apostle Paul—arguably one of the most spiritually mature people who ever lived—said, “I want to be with you so that we may be mutually encouraged by each other’s faith.”
If Paul needed other people’s fire, so do you.
—
We Need Each Other More Than We Admit
There’s a fascinating example from nature that makes this painfully clear: geese.
When geese migrate, they fly in a V formation—not for aesthetics, but survival. This formation reduces air resistance by up to 30%, allowing them to travel hundreds of miles farther together than they ever could alone. They rotate leadership when one gets tired. They synchronize wing beats to increase endurance. Even their honking, annoying as it is, is communication and encouragement.
And when one goose falls out of formation due to exhaustion or injury, at least two others break away and stay with it until it recovers or until the end.
Geese don’t just prefer togetherness. They need it. And so do you.
—
Why We’re Tempted to Quit Community
Here’s the hard truth: community is difficult because people are difficult.
People are messy. Disappointing. Weird. Sometimes hurtful. Many of us carry real wounds from relationships: family, friendships, workplaces, even churches. Over time, it’s tempting to conclude, “Community doesn’t work for me.”But that conclusion is dangerous. You can’t quit on community without slowly extinguishing your fire.
Hebrews warns us that we have a natural drift toward isolation. Left unchecked, we will choose convenience over connection every time. And while isolation feels safer, it’s spiritually lethal.
You need the fire and the fire needs you.
—
Feeding Each Other’s Fire
Encouragement isn’t one-size-fits-all. Feeding someone’s fire might mean sitting silently with them in grief. It might mean speaking truth they don’t want to hear. It might look like listening, comforting, challenging, affirming, or simply showing up.
The question we should always be asking is this:
What does this person need from me right now to help their fire burn brighter?
That mindset changes everything.
It reframes church gatherings, worship, small groups, and relationships—not as programs or obligations, but as sacred spaces where God spreads His fire through ordinary people.
—
Don’t Settle for a Solo Flame
For years, I underestimated this truth. I treated church like a place I went to get my fill and leave. But God has slowly reshaped my understanding. Community isn’t optional. It’s essential.
There are moments when I walk into worship tired, discouraged, or spiritually cold. And then I see someone else—hands raised, faith alive, perseverance on display—and my fire ignites again.
That’s how it works.
Faith is contagious. Fire spreads.
If you want everything God has for you—if you want a faith that lasts, grows, and endures—you cannot do it alone.
So don’t quit. Don’t isolate. Don’t settle for a quiet, shrinking flame.
Get close enough for the fire to spread because spiritual fire was never meant to burn alone.