You Weren’t Meant to Face Giants Alone

We were created for community

There are people who enter our lives and, without even realizing it, change the way we see ourselves. A friend can see strength in us when we are still focused on our weaknesses. She can hear the dream we are almost embarrassed to say out loud and respond, “I can see you doing that.” She can remind us who we are when insecurity has convinced us otherwise, sit beside us when life feels heavy, celebrate when something beautiful begins, and lovingly tell us the truth when fear is keeping us small.

I believe friendship has the power to change the trajectory of a person’s life. Not because another person gives us our worth, but because sometimes God places people in our lives who can see something in us before we are able to see it ourselves. Sometimes all it takes is someone looking at the dream we are afraid to pursue and asking, “Why not you?”

When I think about that kind of friendship, I think about David and Jonathan.

David Faced the Giant, But He Didn't Walk Through Life Alone

We all know the story of David and Goliath. An entire army stood looking at a giant they were terrified to face, and then David arrived. He wasn't the biggest or the strongest. He wasn't even a soldier. Yet David looked at the same giant everyone else was looking at and saw something different. Everyone else saw how big Goliath was; David saw how big his God was.

So David went first, and someone was watching.

Jonathan, the son of King Saul, already understood that kind of courageous faith. Before David ever stepped onto the battlefield with Goliath, Jonathan had faced impossible odds of his own, trusting that God was not limited by how outnumbered he appeared to be. Maybe that is part of why Jonathan recognized something in David. He saw another person willing to trust God when circumstances said he should be afraid.

After David defeated Goliath, Scripture tells us that Jonathan became deeply connected to him. What began around a moment of incredible courage developed into one of the most meaningful friendships in Scripture. Their story reminds me that sometimes God places people in our lives who recognize the courage He has put inside of us and encourage us to keep walking in it. They see the dream and say, “Why not you?” They look at the thing that terrifies us and remind us that the giant is not bigger than our God.

We Are Surrounded, But Are We Connected?

We live in a time when we have more ways to connect than ever before, yet so many of us still feel lonely. We can know what hundreds of people are doing without necessarily knowing how any of them are actually doing. We see their vacations, announcements, routines, successes, and celebrations, but we may have no idea what they are carrying when no one else is watching.

I think this happens in our wellness spaces too. You can walk into a Pilates class and be surrounded by thirty women who already have something in common with you. For fifty minutes, you breathe together, move together, struggle through the same final set together, and occupy the same space. Then class ends, everyone rolls up her mat, grabs her things, and walks out the door.

Maybe you've taken class beside the same woman ten times. You recognize her, and you might even know her name, but you don't actually know her.

I kept coming back to that when I began imagining what I wanted Abide to be. Maybe our problem isn't always that we don't have enough people around us; maybe we don't have enough opportunities to turn proximity into connection.

The woman three mats away might be facing a giant you know nothing about. She might be a new mom desperately wanting another mom to talk to, rebuilding after a difficult season, questioning her confidence, searching for community, trying to grow in her faith, or carrying a dream she is terrified to say out loud. You would never know if everyone simply picked up her mat and left.

Jonathan could have watched David defeat Goliath and moved on with his life. Instead, he allowed what he saw in David to become the beginning of something deeper. Every meaningful friendship starts somewhere, and usually it starts because someone is willing to move beyond simply being in the same room.

Someone Has to Go First

There is something else I love about David's story: he was willing to go first. Everyone else was waiting for someone to step onto the battlefield, and David stepped forward.

Friendship often requires a quieter version of that same courage. How many women walk into the same room wanting connection while simultaneously being afraid to initiate it? One woman may be thinking, I hope someone talks to me, while the woman across the room is thinking exactly the same thing. Both want friendship. Both are afraid of rejection. Eventually, someone has to go first.

Courage doesn't always look like standing in front of a literal giant. Sometimes it looks like walking into a room alone and introducing yourself even though you're nervous. It can mean admitting, “I'm actually having a hard time,” telling someone about the dream you've been afraid to say out loud, or simply looking at the woman beside you after class and asking, “Do you want to grab coffee?”

Every meaningful friendship was once two people who didn't know each other. There was a first conversation, a first invitation, and a first moment when someone decided the possibility of connection was worth the risk of rejection.

The Right Friends Remind Us Who We Are

One of my favorite parts of David and Jonathan's story happens later because David—the same man who had walked toward Goliath when an entire army was afraid—eventually became afraid himself. He was running from Saul, hiding, and living through circumstances that looked nothing like the victorious moment we remember him for.

And Jonathan went to him.

Scripture tells us that Jonathan helped David find strength in God (1 Samuel 23:16). There is something so important in that moment because even the man who once faced the giant needed a friend to remind him where his strength came from. Courage in one season doesn't mean we won't struggle in another, and being strong doesn't mean we never need someone beside us.

That is what healthy friendship can do. Insecurity has a way of becoming louder in isolation, and when we are alone with our thoughts long enough, our fears can begin to sound like facts. Sometimes God gives us people who interrupt those thoughts. They remind us of what we have already survived, notice when we aren't ourselves, point out gifts we have overlooked, and speak courage into the places where fear has become too loud.

Confidence doesn't always arrive through one dramatic breakthrough. Sometimes it is built through hundreds of small moments of being seen: someone saves you a seat, remembers what you told her, notices when something is wrong, believes your idea deserves to be heard, or tells you, “I can see you doing that.”

Sometimes the person who once faced Goliath needs a Jonathan to remind her that she can be brave again.

Real Friendship Celebrates Instead of Competes

Jonathan's friendship with David becomes even more powerful when you consider what David's success could have meant for him. Jonathan was the king's son, and David's growing success and calling could easily have looked like a threat to Jonathan's future. He had every reason to compare himself, compete, or resent the doors God was opening for David.

Instead, he loved him, protected him, encouraged him, and helped him become who God was calling him to be. Jonathan didn't need David to become smaller so that he could feel bigger.

That is the kind of friendship I want more women to experience. Her beauty doesn't diminish yours. Her success doesn't take away your opportunity. Her calling doesn't compete with yours, and her answered prayer doesn't mean God has forgotten yours. There is room for both of you to flourish.

Healthy friendship also isn't blind encouragement. The right people celebrate us, but they also love us enough to tell us the truth. They help us distinguish between wisdom telling us to wait and insecurity telling us we are incapable. The best friendships don't simply affirm who we are today; they help us become who we are meant to be.

Friendship Costs Something, but Isolation Costs More

Jonathan's friendship with David wasn't always convenient. He showed up when David was afraid, protected him when doing so wasn't easy, and chose loyalty when competition would have been understandable.

Deep friendship still costs something. It requires making room in schedules that already feel full. It requires vulnerability, checking in, apologizing, forgiving, listening, praying, and showing up. Sometimes it means celebrating someone else's answered prayer while you are still waiting for yours.

Meaningful connection rarely happens simply because we happen to be in the same place. It happens because someone decides the relationship is worth making room for.

Isolation has a cost too. It gives insecurity room to grow, makes grief heavier because no one knows we are carrying it, and allows fear to make decisions without anyone challenging it. Sometimes the most healing words we hear aren't profound advice. Sometimes they are simply, “Me too,” “I'm here,” or “Let me remind you of what is true.”

This Is Why Abide Exists

This is the heart behind Abide. It was never meant to simply be another place where women take a class, roll up their mats, and leave. Movement matters. Caring for our bodies matters. Rest matters. But I believe wellness is so much bigger than what happens physically.

We can have strong bodies and lonely hearts. We can appear successful and still feel deeply insecure. We can look fearless while privately facing giants no one else knows exist. We can have hundreds of contacts in our phones and still wonder who we would actually call if everything fell apart.

So I wanted to create a place that gives women a reason to stay.

Come for the movement, but don't feel like you have to rush out when it ends. Grab a coffee, sit down, learn someone's name, and join the conversation around the table. Attend the event even if none of your friends can come. Be brave enough to walk through the door alone.

Abide cannot manufacture friendship, and I don't want it to try. What we can do is create space for it. We can create a place where lingering is normal, where conversation has somewhere to go after class, and where seeing the same woman every Tuesday can eventually become knowing her name and then knowing her story.

Maybe you come for Pilates and stay for coffee. Maybe a conversation turns into an invitation, and an invitation eventually turns into friendship. Maybe one day that woman is standing beside you when you face a giant. She might encourage you through motherhood, celebrate the business you finally launch, sit beside you through heartbreak, remind you who you are during a difficult season, or point you back to God when life has shaken your faith.

And maybe one day, you get to be Jonathan for her.

Sometimes You're David. Sometimes You're Jonathan.

I think that's what I love most about their story. There will be seasons when you are David, standing in front of something that feels enormous and choosing to trust God anyway. There will also be seasons when you are Jonathan, standing beside someone you love, celebrating what God is doing in her life and helping her find strength in Him when she has forgotten where to look.

And sometimes, even after you've been David, you'll need a Jonathan.

Being strong doesn't mean never needing someone. Being courageous doesn't mean never becoming afraid, and having faith doesn't mean there won't be seasons when you need another person to remind you of what you already know to be true. Maybe that's part of why God created us for community.

We spend so much time asking, Where are my people? Where do you make friends as an adult? Where do you find women who will encourage you, celebrate you, pray with you, tell you the truth, and show up when life gets difficult?

Maybe there is another question worth asking: Who is waiting for me to go first?

Maybe there is a woman who needs you to send the text or notice that she isn't herself. Maybe someone has mentioned the same dream five times because she's waiting for someone to finally say, “Why not you?” Maybe the woman standing alone after class is hoping someone will ask her to stay for coffee.

We may never know how significant those small moments can become. The woman beside you today could someday be the person who reminds you of God's faithfulness when you're facing something you never imagined. Or you could become that person for her.

Sometimes you face the giant, and sometimes you remind your friend that she can. But you were never meant to face every giant alone.

That's why connection matters, and it's why Abide exists: to create a place where women can move and restore, yes, but also a place where we slow down long enough to notice one another. A place where you can put down your mat, pull up a chair, and stay awhile, because you never know who might be sitting beside you—or how much knowing her might change your life.

Come as you are. Stay long enough to connect. And together, let's learn what it means to truly abide.