Why We Feel Less Known—and the Way Back

As I think about the crisis of connection, I keep coming back to a basic question: what did God intend human life to be? Scripture opens with relational language—“Let us…”—and then God says plainly, “It is not good that man should be alone.” From the beginning, we were made for fellowship with God and with one another, but that communion ruptured when humanity chose disobedience and began to hide. Yet throughout Scripture, God keeps drawing His people into shared life—seen in Israel’s feasts and worship gatherings. It makes me wonder if shared life with God’s people isn’t optional at all, but part of the natural order God designed. And if that is true, it helps explain why earlier seasons of life—when our days naturally overlapped through home, church, school, and neighbors—made closeness feel normal, almost effortless, and why its disappearance has been so quietly devastating.

When the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, He did not keep His ministry at a distance. He drew near—teaching, healing, eating with people, and calling disciples to follow Him closely. Over time He formed not just individual believers, but a people learning a shared life in His presence. And after His resurrection, that shared life became explicit in the church’s calling to meet together, encourage one another, and stir one another to love and good works. A shared life means our lives actually overlap—enough repeated presence, time, and openness that we can be known, noticed, and cared for. Technology can help us stay in touch, but it rarely creates the unhurried, embodied rhythms where deep knowing grows. What might be the first sign that this natural order has been broken?

Martha and I were in Israel at a meal event called Abraham’s Tent. After the meal, the host gave a thirty-minute talk on why real meals in our homes matter. He said, if we don’t sit at a table together, how can we possibly get to know one another? It reminded me how often Christ ate with people—followers and sinners as well. Some count at least nineteen meal moments in Luke alone. After Pentecost, new converts kept “breaking bread” together in their homes. Even the Lord’s Supper was set in the context of a meal. So, table fellowship seems vital for connecting with others and with God. And perhaps one of the first signs connection is breaking is this: fewer shared meals at home, rushed meals, and more people eating alone to fit busy lives.

As we know, life today is disjointed and fragmented. Work, education, sports, kids’ activities, church—each sits in its own compartment. That fragmentation has contributed to a loss of connection with the people we love and care about. And I suggest that letting this happen points to a deeper problem. It isn’t only competing with time and space. It is competing priorities. What comes first—work, consumption, personal preference? God’s vision is not to “add God to our busy life.” It is to re-order our lives around His priorities. Connection cannot flourish when people are rarely together. A fragmented life weakens what God intends. It also stunts spiritual formation and discipleship. It isn’t that people stop wanting friends. It’s that some let life stop giving them the time needed to form deep relationships.

And that brings us to the question underneath it all: what is time for in God’s design? In our modern world, time is treated like “private property.” How often do you hear the phrase, “My time is valuable”? It is—but not in the way most people mean. Scripture calls us to bear one another’s burdens. The New Testament contains roughly 59 of these “one another” commands. We are to love one another, and love is a practiced virtue. It requires people close enough to be seen. Yet our culture has trained us into a different set of priorities. Time is not “private.” It is a gift from God. It must be stewarded with intention and ordered by His priorities.

We have all experienced the attention our electronic devices demand with their addictive content.  How many of us have been annoyed when we are glued to the phone or computer screen and someone interrupts us? Truly annoying isn’t it?  Our common reactions are dangerous to our spiritual health.  Technology is not the problem. Our misplaced priority is. God calls use to listen, be patient, be kind, compassionate and caring. 

Some time ago we conducted a survey at our congregation of over 800 people. We were shocked. Twenty-five percent said they did not have a single friend. How can that be, when they are surrounded each Sunday by “loving Christians”? Have you ever been in a room full of people you are supposed to know—and still felt alone? I have. Fragmented, atomized lives isolate. People drift toward the few who gratify their own self-interest.

The real problem is being known. Feeling safe. Being supported. Truly “seen” by others. We could call that whole cluster emotional connection. And simply being around people is not enough to secure it. The biblical answer begins with being reconciled to God. It means learning His priorities and living by them. God truly knows us. He is our refuge. He keeps us safe. And God not only supports us—He also calls the church to care for one another.

Remember, we were created for community. We are repeatedly called to fellowship with one another. Just as, in the Lord’s Supper, we have communion with Christ, we are also called to communion with each other. God is not calling us to invent another exhausting “program” at church. This fellowship—koinonia—will never be satisfied by constantly shifting modern life structures. It is satisfied by communion with God and then expressed in His people. Christ reconciles us to God, and reconciles us to one another, no matter our race or gender. In His body, true fellowship can exist and thrive. Here burdens are borne. Forgiveness is practiced. Listening becomes real. And table fellowship becomes more than a nice idea—it becomes a way of life. So, I’ll end where we began: will we revive table fellowship in our homes again?