RULE NO. 16: STRONG ALONE, UNSTOPPABLE TOGETHER

No matter how far you’ve come—who’s coming with you?

Power is nothing without people.
Build the team. Share the mission. Trust the process.

Hello Dear Reader, welcome back to another week of The Rules for Life. I hope the days since we last met have been kind to you—and if they haven’t, I pray this weekend brings the rest and rejuvenation your soul is calling for.

As for me, I recently took a much-needed break from New York. I won’t say where I went—Mr. Mysterious, as always—but I found rest. And not just physical rest, but the deep, restoring kind. The kind that reminds you who you are beneath all the noise.

Suki didn’t come with me this time. (She would’ve loved it.) But I’m grateful my friend JiJi stayed with her for a few days, later joined by my friend Gise. While they filled my home with love in my absence, I was reminded of something the Holy Spirit whispered to me:

“You are strongest and at your best when in true community.”

And that brings us to this week’s rule—one I’ve felt in my bones lately: Rule No. 16: STRONG ALONE, UNSTOPPABLE TOGETHER.

The Chills of Isolation

Giselle and Jianna
(L-R)

Life has a funny way of aligning with the lesson. JiJi and Gise are the most recent examples. But if I scan the timeline of my life—especially the last eight years—I can say with certainty: my most vulnerable, defeated moments happened in what I call the chills of isolation.

And if you’ve ever been there, you know that isolation has a particular cold to it. Not the kind that comes from sitting in quiet with a book, or soaking in the silence of your room with only the hum of traffic and the buzz of appliances around you.

I’m talking about the heavy kind—the kind that wraps around you like a weighted blanket masquerading as strength. It hides behind phrases like:

“I’m better off alone.”
“I don’t need anyone.”
“No one understands anyway.”

But if someone were to press into that mask—really press—they wouldn’t find strength.They’d find a child. Wounded. Unhealed. Still holding onto the lie that isolation is safety, and connection is danger.

“Whoever isolates himself seeks his own desire; he breaks out against all sound judgment.”— Proverbs 18:1 (ESV)

Isolation doesn’t always look like rebellion—but sometimes, it is. A quiet refusal to be helped. A hardened heart wrapped in self-preservation. And if left unchecked, it keeps us from the very healing we claim to seek.

When I found Myself Isolated

It usually starts with hurt. The deeper the rejection, the sharper the betrayal, the more likely we retreat. We build our walls brick by brick, vow by vow. We hide behind them and call it independence. But it’s not. It’s self-protection masquerading as strength. And as we grow, if we don’t heal the wound, we find ourselves drawn to spaces that validate our pain rather than challenge it.

We run from the good and stay with the broken. Because the healthy ones ask too much of us: They ask us to grow. To open up. To leave the cold behind.

And this—this is especially true in our relationship with God.

The First Time I Withdrew

The first time I felt that chill, I was five. It wasn’t until April of this year that I realized how deep the roots of rejection had grown. I wrote about that moment in a poem titled The First Lie.

Here’s an excerpt:

At five,
you don’t remember details like that—
only how to steel your heart
and blink away tears,
believing that silence
was safer than being misunderstood.

...

He pushed the pain beneath the surface,
with a wide smile
this man’s face still wears.

...

That young boy
urinated on himself
from terror—

as the lie,
now matured,
whispered:

“You’ll always be left alone.”

The Power in Community

It’s taken me many moons to process that first retreat. To peel back the layers and name what I felt. To let God in. To let anyone in.

But He did what only He can. He slowed me down. He stripped the distractions, the performances, the excuses. And in the silence, He began to rebuild me—not as the person I had learned to be, but as the man He originally created.

“God sets the lonely in families, He leads out the prisoners with singing…” — Psalm 68:6 (NIV)

God doesn’t just sit with us in isolation—He places us in families. He moves us out of captivity and into communion. But first, we must be willing to come out of hiding.

For the last 19 months—except for Suki—I’ve lived alone. And in many ways, I’ve been “on my own” since I moved to New York with a suitcase of clothes and a carry-on full of dreams.

But this year, I had to ask myself the hard question: Was I truly at peace in my solitude… or was I hiding in my isolation?

The answer? Both.

At first, the solitude was sacred. But slowly, quietly, the lie crept back in—until I could no longer tell the difference between holy stillness and self-imposed exile. Then came March and God did something new.

This time, the quiet wasn’t for hiding. It was for healing. This wasn’t the silence of repression—it was the silence of reconstruction. He was breaking me down so He could build something stronger.

I See My People Now

Looking back, I see the community I’ve been part of all along. Some were seasonal. Some foundational. Some fed me. Some housed me. Some prayed when I had no words. Some gave when I had no means.

There are those I met at St. John’s who’ve stayed through every chapter. And others who, though no longer in my everyday life, still have a door open should they ever knock.

Not because it’s easy. But because love doesn’t abandon people in their wilderness. Especially when the oasis can be more than just a mirage.

“Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up.”— Ecclesiastes 4:9–10 (NIV)

You can’t lift yourself every time. And sometimes, the strength you think is yours was actually theirs, holding you up the whole time.

Discernment Matters

Let me be clear:

Community requires discernment.This is not a call to reopen every closed door or reenter every toxic space. Sometimes, healing requires distance. Sometimes, your future requires separation.

Always ask God for direction.

“Can two walk together, unless they are agreed?”— Amos 3:3 (NKJV)

Not every crowd is your community. Not every group is your team.

Even an eagle will think he’s a chicken if he hangs out in the wrong flock long enough.

Find your people. The ones who sharpen you. Who call you out and call you higher. Who pray over you and walk beside you—not just when it's easy, but when it's essential.

For me, that’s my church family. They ground me. And the more I give myself to them—and to God—the more I see myself becoming not just a vessel of gifts, but a vessel of His glory.

Final Thoughts

Isolation may feel like safety. But it’s really a trap. It keeps you locked in the loop of your worst thoughts, rehearsing lies you’ve outgrown but haven’t yet unlearned.

You might be strong alone. But you are unstoppable together.

“Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it.” — 1 Corinthians 12:27 (NIV)

Even Jesus walked with twelve. He could’ve done it all alone—but He didn’t.

Earlier this year in Rule No. 3: Ubuntu – Success Through Sacrifice, I asked: “What are you willing to sacrifice—for others, for a dream, for a shared vision of a better world?”

Now I ask you this:

“Are you willing to sacrifice your isolation
to become part of someone else’s foundation?”

Because it’s not about being the hero. It’s about building with other heroes. It’s about becoming a team.

A family.
A body.
A force.

Strong alone,
Unstoppable together.

Thank you to everyone who’s been a part of my community.