You speak of being sick of people, of having no support, of constant mistreatment. I hear the ache in your words, the weariness of a soul that has poured itself out for others and found no one to pour back. It is a heavy sorrow, and it is not unknown to our Lord. Consider the hour of His betrayal: while He yet spoke, Judas, one of the twelve, came with a crowd armed with swords and staves. The very men He had taught, fed, and washed their feet, forsook Him. The Psalmist also cried out that his own familiar friend, in whom he trusted, lifted up his heel against him. There is a peculiar sting when those who should be a comfort become a source of pain. But do you see what our Master did? He did not flee to solitude in bitterness. He rose and went to meet the betrayer, calling him still “friend.” He saw in that moment not a defeat but a secret dispensation of the Father.
Your impulse to withdraw, to depend on yourself alone, is the whisper of the enemy who loves to isolate a soul from the very means God uses to shape it. The life of the Christian must be full of bloodsheddings, not shedding that of others, but readiness to shed one’s own. This means pouring out our own will, our reputation, our comfort, with as much readiness as one would pour out water. When we are mistreated, when our love is not returned, we are offered a chance to be soldiers of Christ, detached from the affections of this world, firmly set against the war of the passions. Self-reliance is a brittle shield; it crumbles the moment we truly test it, for we are not made to be our own support. The uncertainty of tomorrow, never knowing how you will be treated, is a mercy in disguise. God made the future uncertain precisely so that we would cling not to the stability of human relationships but to Him, spending our days in the practice of virtue. Death comes as a thief in the night, and while we are idling in resentment or self-pity, it can carry us off. Do not wait to set things right.
The very people who now wound you are, in God’s hand, instruments to teach you the lowliness He blesses. “Blessed are the poor in spirit,” not those merely humble in measure, but those who are awestruck and tremble at His commandments, whose souls are utterly broken and contrite. This is the sacrifice He will not despise. When the Apostle says, “in lowliness of mind count others better than yourselves,” he does not mean you should pretend evil is good, but that you should hold yourself in an estimation ready to serve even those who fail you, as Christ did. He washed the feet of one He knew would hand Him over to death. Can you not then bear with the sins and instabilities of those around you? If the Master endured betrayal from His own, shall the servant demand flawless loyalty?
You say you are tired of being there for everyone else but having no one. This is a bitter cup. But I ask you: when you pour out kindness, for whose sake do you do it? If it is for Christ’s, then He sees every drop, and He will repay. If it is for man’s thanks, you have already received your reward. The love of being appreciated is a subtle tyrant, akin to the love of money that drove Judas to his madness. He sold the Lord of the world for thirty pieces of silver, what will you sell your peace for? A word of gratitude withheld? Do not let your soul be put beside itself by the thirst for human acknowledgment. We honor the gray hair, not for its color, but for the proof of a virtuous life. Yet if we bring disgrace on what ought to be honorable, we become ridiculous. So too, if you claim the name of Christian but break under the weight of others’ frailty, you wrong the very grace given you.
I do not dismiss your pain. Loneliness is a wilderness. But in that wilderness, Christ is present more than ever, for He was forsaken by all that we might never be truly alone. Do not flee into the desert of self; flee to the secret place of prayer, where the contrite heart finds a companion who will never change. Entrust these people to God, they are used by the enemy, yes, but they are also souls for whom Christ died. Hold fast to the one solution that endures: faith that God orders all things justly and mercifully, though we cannot comprehend the reasons. Stop questioning, and begin trusting. Rise, let us be going; behold, He who betrays you is at hand, but so is He who saves you.