I am going to say something that might sting a little. But I would rather tell you the truth than let you keep getting hurt the same way I did. You cannot trust people. I know. It sounds harsh. It sounds lonely. It might even sound bitter. But hear me out, because this is not bitterness talking. This is wisdom. Hard-won, knees-on-the-floor, God-where-are-you wisdom. And it changed everything for me. Here is what I know about human beings. We mean well. Most of us do. We make promises we genuinely intend to keep. We show up, until we do not. We love people, until it gets inconvenient. We are loyal, until loyalty costs us something. That is not me being cynical. That is me being honest about the nature of people, myself included. I have been let down. Not once. Not twice. By people I built my life around. People I believed in. People I gave my trust to like it was something I had plenty of. I did not. None of us do. And every time I handed it to a person and they dropped it, something in me had to decide what to do next. For a long time, I thought the answer was to find better people. More dependable people. People who would finally get it right. But that is the wrong answer, because it puts the same weight on different shoulders that were never built to carry it. Here is the shift. The real one. The one that actually holds. God does not drop what you give Him. He does not get tired. He does not get distracted. He does not leave when things get complicated. He does not love you based on what you can offer Him that day. His love is not conditional on your performance, your availability, or your track record. He knew you before you had a track record. That is the trust that does not break. Now, I am not telling you to stop loving people. I am not telling you to close off or build walls so high that no one can reach you. You can still love people deeply. You can still show up for them, laugh with them, cry with them, invest in them. None of that has to stop. But the moment you place your foundational trust in a human being, you are asking them to be something they were never designed to be. They will fail you. Not because they are bad. Because they are human. Just like you. The loneliness that comes from this lesson is real. When you stop expecting people to be your anchor, there is a quiet that moves in. And in that quiet, you have to decide who you are actually standing on. I stand on God. Not because my life has been perfect or because faith came easy. But because every other foundation I tried eventually gave way. He has not. He reminds me that my life has a purpose, even in the seasons that feel purposeless. Even in the waiting. Even now. This is not the easiest thing to live. But it is the truest thing I know.