Those words hit home to me, brother. I don't want to ask too personal a question, so please forgive me if I do, but did you walk alone because you just didn't go to church very much, or because you went to church, but didn't seek fellowship?
I don't mind sharing with you. It's now a part of my testimony.
I was saved as a teenager in a small country church in another demonination. A few years later, better half and I married. Different demonination and another small rural church. For a while we attended each others churches, but gradually drifted away.
In my case, I didn't have a strong desire to continue to attend my home church. Nor, to attend better half's either. While different demoninations, there was too much that was alike in each of them. I won't go into a lot of details other than to say, after all these years, I still vividly remember the fight over the carpet go down the center isle in my church. Voices lifted in anger, in God's house, between those who wanted RED carpet and those who didn't. Remember overhearing ladies talking behind their gloved hands about those who couldn't dress for success. A deacon candidate, nominated by someone who didn't know, humilated in front of the congregation, because he was divorced and remarried some 25 or 30 years earlier. There's more, but I've probably already said too much.
For a while, we tried some other churches, but didn't find a home. Looking back, I know now, part of it was because I wasn't seriously looking for one. After all those years of rising with the sun, on the farm, it sure felt good to sleep late on Sunday morning. Perhaps to watch the worship services on TV broadcast from a church too many miles away to travel. Perhaps, not.
Eventually, we stopped going to church all together. Periodically, I'd read the Bible. Sometimes I'd pray. Sometimes enjoyed listening to worship services on the radio. By then, I wouldn't watch "TV preachers", after seeing their impact on my mother's life.
This story is getting too long. To make it shorter, many years went by. God sent a messenger. A neighbor invited us to his church, a Baptist church. We didn't go. God sent His messenger again. This time, I listened. There was more to be heard than simply the words of my neighbor.
That was about 2 1/2 years ago. We joined the church after a few months and I was rebaptised, by imersion this time. Without a shadow of a doubt, I believe that God grew tired of waiting for us. We are now where He wants us to be today.