The Cost of Connection: Trading Comfort for Something Greater
Every summer, my wife and I try to get away for a couple of weeks—not just for vacation, but to unplug, re-energize, and refuel before stepping into another season of ministry. This summer, we did something special: a bucket-list trip we always said we’d take someday—a Danube River cruise through Eastern and Central Europe.
We had talked about doing this trip in retirement, but toward the end of last year, something shifted. I attended three funerals—each for someone around my age. It shook me. It was existential. It made me reflect on how uncertain tomorrow really is. So we booked the trip—not later, not someday, but now. We did it while we’re alive, healthy, and well. And we’re grateful.
We cruised through Germany, Austria, Slovakia, and ended in one of my favorite cities in the world: Budapest. It’s a city that often flies under the radar when we think of beauty, yet it’s breathtaking—stunning architecture, rich history, and incredible food. But the real reason we stayed three extra days?
Our friend Tibor Miklos.
Discomfort with a Purpose
Tibor is one of our missionary partners from Landing Place Church. He and his wife are both blind—losing their sight in young adulthood—and yet they lead one of the most impactful ministries I’ve seen. They serve orphans, gypsies, and other blind individuals across Hungary. They do more for the Kingdom without sight than many do with it.
But I’ll be honest: Tibor makes me incredibly uncomfortable.
He has this habit of making divine appointments happen in real time—like smacking someone with his cane on the train and saying, “This is my friend Mark. He’s a pastor. He will pray with you!” Or asking me to pray over people who don’t speak English while I don’t speak Hungarian. It’s stretching. It’s awkward. And honestly? It’s holy.
One night, he invited us to go around the table and affirm each other. Out loud. It was uncomfortable. Some of us squirmed. But it was also sacred. In that moment of awkward vulnerability, something real happened.
Tibor constantly challenges me with one truth: connection often costs us our comfort.
The Lie of Easy Relationships
We live in a culture that tells us relationships should be easy. We want friendships that are friction-free and romantic connections that are effortless. But the truth is, that’s not how real, meaningful relationships work.
God’s design for relationships isn’t just to make us happy—it’s to make us holy.
And holy doesn’t mean perfect. It means set apart. It means that through the messiness of connection, we become more like Jesus.
Friction Sharpens
Proverbs 27:17 says, “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.”
We love quoting that verse, especially at men’s retreats. It sounds empowering. But iron sharpening iron isn’t soft. It’s hot metal hammered into shape. It’s painful and uncomfortable.
Real connection involves conflict, misunderstandings, and stretching conversations. But that’s how we grow. That’s how we sharpen one another.
Even Paul and Barnabas—two spiritual giants—had a falling out over John Mark. Their disagreement was so sharp they split up. And yet, later in Scripture, we see Paul speaking highly of Mark. Reconciliation happened. And Mark went on to write one of the four Gospels.
Don’t give up on relationships that have friction. Sometimes, God uses that tension to shape us.
Dress for Connection
In Colossians 3 Paul told the church in Colossae to clothe themselves in compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. And above all, love.
He uses the word “clothe” intentionally. Because let’s face it: we don’t wake up naturally overflowing with those qualities. We have to choose to put them on every single day—like getting dressed.
If you want meaningful connection, start by becoming the kind of person you’re looking for. Want a friend? Be a friend. Want a spouse who’s kind and forgiving? Clothe yourself in kindness and forgiveness. Watch how God brings the right people into your life.
Don’t Build Walls—Build Gates
When relationships get hard, we often put up walls. We retreat. We isolate. We say, “I’ll never let that happen again.”
But walls don’t just keep pain out—they keep connection out.
A better strategy? Build gates. Healthy gates allow you to create boundaries without sealing yourself off. They keep toxic influences at bay, while still opening the door to the right people—those who will help you grow, challenge your faith, and love you through the mess.
What About You?
At Landing Place Church, we’ve been in a series called The Cost of Connection. We surveyed over 500 people and found that while many crave deep relationships, we struggle to make them happen—even in church.
Half of our church is in a group. Half isn’t.
If you’re already in a group, ask yourself: Are we becoming more like Jesus? Are we growing, stretching, occasionally uncomfortable? Or have we settled into a nice, comfortable social circle?
If you’re not in a group, let me lovingly challenge you—push past the discomfort. Show up at our Groups Fair. Walk around. Ask questions. Explore. You don’t have to commit today, but you might just find the connection you’ve been longing for.
Closing Thought
Relationships are messy. They’re uncomfortable. But they’re also one of the most powerful tools God uses to shape us into the people He created us to be.
So let’s trade comfort for calling. Let’s choose holiness over ease. Let’s open the gates, put on the clothes, and allow a little iron-on-iron friction into our lives.
Because on the other side of discomfort… is connection.