What is your first memory of church? Who taught you your earliest Bible stories? When you think back, what picture forms in your mind when you hear the word faith?

My Earliest Memories of Faith

My first memory goes back to around age five. The church sat just beyond our backyard, across a cornfield on the edge of Phoenixville. It was a long building with a wide parking lot, a front sanctuary, and a lobby that smelled faintly of coffee and hymnals. Off to one side was a reception hall that doubled as the children’s choir room. Down the hallway were classrooms, restrooms, and a small chapel used by the Shepherd’s Ministry for people with disabilities.

Every Sunday morning, my dad and I crossed the field early and climbed into a forest-green twelve-passenger van. No booster seats. No back row. I rode shotgun, carrying a box of Dunkin’ Donuts and setting out the wooden step stool so our Shepherds could climb aboard. They would pat me on the head and call me Matt…or Matthew…or Michael (my older brother). Sometimes just, “Hey you.”

That was my introduction to faith.

More Complex Faith

Faith looked like a green van, powdered donuts, and the smiles of people who returned every small act of kindness with a hug and joy.

As I grew older, faith became more complex. There were verses to memorize, doctrines to learn, practices to follow, and temptations to resist. Somewhere along the way, I began to believe—quietly and incorrectly—that faith was a system. If I showed up, served faithfully, and did the right things, God would keep life from getting too hard.

But faith doesn’t come with immunity.

Hard Seasons

Hard seasons came. Doubts replaced confidence. Questions grew louder. And in those moments, I realized something essential: I wasn’t standing alone. I had a community.

Sunday School teachers. Youth pastors. Coaches. Professors. Mentors. Friends’ parents. Pastors. My family.

There were conversations—at diners, in classrooms, in parked cars, after funerals—that carried me more than I realized at the time. Faith, like a shared meal, was passed from one life to another.

Roman Shields

Paul didn’t need to explain this metaphor to the Ephesians. Roman shields were never meant to be used in isolation. Soldiers locked them together, forming a wall of protection. One shield could deflect an arrow. Many shields could stop an attack.

Faith works the same way.

“Christian faith is not a solo performance,” Eugene Peterson writes. “It is a long obedience in the same direction, lived out among others.”

Dallas Willard echoes this truth: “The greatest strength of the Christian life is not willpower, but companionship in the way of Jesus.”

And Mark Batterson reminds us, “Faith grows best in proximity—when stories are shared, prayers are spoken, and hope is borrowed when needed.”

Shared Faith

Revelation 12:11 tells us that God’s people overcome by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony. What Christ has done—and what we tell one another about His faithfulness—becomes our defense.

Faith in isolation has limits.
Faith in community has endurance.

Sometimes all it takes is someone else’s steady faith to help us raise our shield again. Shoulder to shoulder. Side by side.

Faith grows when it is shared.

*This is an excerpt from Matt’s newest devotional Unhurried strength: Understanding the Power and Purpose of the Armor of God. Be sure to check it out on Amazon.

More Encouragement

For more encouragement, check out my post, Friends Wanted: How to Cultivate Friendships in a Lonely World.