At the end of high school, I stopped attending church. My family and I had moved to a new town, and despite being a faithful and involved church member throughout my teens, I didn't even try to find a new one. Partly, this was because I was distressed and confused by a faction that developed in my church right before we moved. But also, I was busy – working, attending college, and dating someone long-distance. So, deciding that I was "disappointed in organized religion," I chose to practice my Christian faith alone.

Ten years passed. My belief in God didn't waver during that time. But looking back at the absence of corporate worship and Christian community in my life, I can see how spiritually stagnant I was, like a dormant plant burrowed underground for a decade-long winter.

Not that I didn't sense God calling me back to the church; I felt Him doing so all the time. But I pushed the feeling away, telling myself I didn't want to get hurt again by the mistakes of imperfect people trying to live out God's design for the church in a broken world. Also, I was still busy. So, I remained a Christian wolf, alone in the woods, shunning the pack.

But by the time I had my first son in my late 20s, I could no longer deny that something critical was missing in my faith walk. I missed worship services and being with people who shared my beliefs, but I also craved something I couldn't articulate. I knew my decision had taken a toll: I had drifted further from God's heart, away from what He wanted for me.

The final straw that broke my resolve came when we moved 900 miles away from our nearest family member in 1996. Alone in our new house with a baby and no loved ones nearby – I longed for the togetherness and sense of "home" I felt at my church as a teenager. My real estate agent recommended a church offering a "Mommy and Me" group, and I decided to put my toe in the water.

After the first session, someone invited me to a women's Bible study at the church. Although I had some trepidation about "getting in deeper" after the sad disunity I experienced in my first church, I showed up anyway. Two hundred women filled the giant room, and we were divided into small groups, which remained consistent for the duration of the study.

I still remember the topic: the Old Testament book of Nehemiah. It tells the story of how, after returning from Babylonian captivity, the Jewish exiles rebuilt Jerusalem's walls, restored their city, and renewed their hearts for God. As the weeks progressed, I identified more and more with the Babylonian captives; I felt like I was returning home from a self-imposed exile.

Each week, after the leader taught on Nehemiah, our group dug deeper via rich discussions, applying the lesson of Israel’s physical boundaries to our spiritual and emotional ones. It was a lesson I needed. As I listened, learned, and unpacked the material with those women of all ages, God showed me how to rebuild the walls of my heart, guard against my tendency to allow in the wrong things, and open the gates in the right places to receive His love and leading. Processing the Bible with others helped me internalize its teaching in a way that studying it alone all those years had not. The deepening of our knowledge and strengthening of our faith seemed exponential as we shared insights and stories.

I had forgotten how much spiritual growth came from learning and praying with others. And my faith grew more over those twelve weeks than in the previous ten years combined.

Wise farmers understand that it's beneficial to grow things together. They know that strategically placing certain plants together yields unexpected rewards. Called "companion planting," this method can protect from the sun, guard against animal foraging, and encourage productive growth. Some plants enrich the soil, while others loosen it and allow other roots to grow. Some repel harmful insects, while others invite helpful ones. Companion planting can also provide stability for climbing plants, like how sunflowers provide trellises for cucumber vines.

We aren't cucumbers, but we still benefit from companions on the climb between salvation and heaven. And not just any companions: Christian fellowship is unique among all other groups because it is centered on Christ. And coming together to grow or worship doesn't supersede or diminish the importance of personal time with God. But alone, it's too easy to be lazy. Alone, we often miss valuable truths. In isolation, we withhold our supportive gifts and acts of service from others who need them.

When I chose to leave the church at age 19, I had no idea what I was leaving behind. My Babylon wasn't a place; it was a state of believing the lie that God wanted me to live my Christian faith alone. But ten years away from church taught me not to allow the brokenness of humanity to steal the joy of meeting and growing together. Jesus showed us the way, which is still God's way today. Though humans often get it wrong, it's worth trying to get it right.

Once I returned to the church, I vowed not to doubt God's divine purpose and intention for me to participate again. Because as a church, one body united, we encourage, inspire, and remember together. We also explore, wonder, marvel, experience, and see God at work. And when we gather with Christ at the center, we grow.