Friendship

Let those be thy choicest companions who have made Christ their chief companion.

~Thomas Brooks

I remember my earliest friendships in elementary school, relationships sparked from being tossed together during recess and afternoon playdates. We did not choose friendship per se—our comradery simply happened. Little drama and lots of fun dangling upside down from the jungle gyms, playing hopscotch, and dizzying ourselves on the playground’s merry-go-round. For years we more or less played alongside each other.

And then, in fifth grade, I left my chums behind and entered private school.

This new school was tiny, meaning friendships were visible and competitive. A wave of pressure arose to have a best friend, and pronto. One girl dangled the term best friend before me, a bright carrot swinging from a moving stick. She slipped me notes during history class, a daring stunt at the teacher’s back, diminutive pencil sketches of posies, horses, and rabbits, and sentences with multiple choice options.

Does Charlie have a crush on:

a) Missy

b) Suzy

c) Amy

Circle the answer.

One ho-hum day she passed me a different sort of note, informing me that she was going to choose a best friend. The race was on, said she, between Kelly (a girl from another school) and me.

What seems silly now—I assure you—did not seem silly then, as I sat at my desk, chewing my Ticonderoga # 2 pencil, wilting inside that old stuffy classroom with its temperamental heating system and heavy doors. I toyed with the pewter buttons on my blue cardigan sweater as my face burned hot.

Oh, how I longed to be chosen.

The next few days were unpleasant, even as my friend floated about, unperturbed, jubilant in fact, enjoying the crescendo of suspense. There was power in making me wait.

Would she choose me?

Finally the jig was up.

I’m sorry, Kris, but I chose Kelly.

She tossed me another note, which I opened slowly, my heart pounding.

Want to be my second-place friend?

Circle Yes or No.

I blinked hard and slowly spun a thin circle around yes, adding a smiley heart for good measure. If I had been seasoned and secure, I would have discerned that her overt insistence in calling me Kris, a nickname she knew I despised, was terribly unkind. Certainly not the words of a friend, blatantly scorching an open wound.

We were not friends, in the truest sense of the word. Just classmates, seated side by side. There was no give and take, our relationship was a one-way street going her way.

This entire will she choose me incident was a knife in my young heart, an ache furthering my unspoken mission to become a pretzel, twisting myself to be whatever others wanted. It would take years and a heap of heartache for me to realize that the deepest desire of my heart, to be chosen, had already happened.

God had chosen me.

Once I grasped this truth, everything changed.

The finest example of genuine friendship is the ancient account recorded in 1 Samuel. The bond between Jonathan and David.

If ever there was an improbable friendship, this was it.

Jonathan’s father, King Saul, hated David, and was determined to kill him. While the King of Israel was consumed with envy due to David’s success and dazzling popularity among the people, Jonathan, prince and heir to the throne, was consumed with reverence and fear of God.

The Bible tells us, in aching simplicity, that Jonathan’s soul was knit to David’s, and he loved him as his own soul.

Knit.

Isn’t that a picture? Interwoven, gentle strength.

Jonathan relinquished his right to the throne, giving David his cloak, sword, and belt, because of his humble recognition of truth: his friend was God’s choice for future king.

Can you imagine? An heir by blood, honorably stepping aside out of supreme devotion to God and love for his best friend?

I believe Jonathan was one of the godliest men in all of Scripture.

He forfeited not only his royal standing, but his life for his friend, alerting David to every one of the King’s wicked, murderous, schemes. Saul grew so enraged by his son’s devotion to David that he attempted to spear Jonathan.

Even so, Jonathan’s loyalty remained unwavering, as he protected David. His friendship was a roaring fire kindled by humility, selflessness, and honor, seeking David’s good above his own, a posture born of security in God. The world and its ways fell to the wayside.

Jonathan could not be bought by power, pride, or prestige. He was God’s man.

His covenantal love was an earthly foreshadowing of Christ’s love for his own people, a love unto death.

Jonathan and Saul died in a battle against the Philistines, and David’s grief was overwhelming. The love, respect, and devotion encompassing their friendship did not cease with death. David went on to show immeasurable kindness to Mephibosheth, the son of Jonathan, giving the land of his grandfather to him, and offering him a permanent seat at his royal dinner table.

This account raises the friendship bar, does it not? Many scoff and jest at the deep love between these two men of ancient times, but I consider it powerful. A true devotion. God’s blueprint for enduring friendship.

Are you aware that you are not meant to be friends with anyone or everyone?

Perhaps you will find this little mantra helpful:

Be kind to all and friends with some.

Our souls are not meant for haphazard knitting. In fact, God instructs us to choose our friends thoughtfully, judiciously, and with great care. We must practice discernment.

The righteous choose their friends carefully. (Proverbs 12:26)

May we resist slipping into elementary thinking, casually tossing around the word friendship, using it lightly; indiscriminately.

There are many dear women I pray for, care for, talk to, and serve. But only a few are friends.

Authentic friendships are strong as bone and proven over time.

These special ones love me enough to ask hard questions, pray for my marriage, my husband, my children, their spouses, and my grandchildren. We have cried together, laughed together, and endured the hard and rocky places. They have shielded me from those seeking to harm, and have been a Jonathan by my side. They have seen me at my worst and corrected and uplifted me. They have rejoiced in my victories, and bent low with me in my sorrows. Our relationships are a back and forth commitment, a two-way street. I have an unspoken place at their table, and vice versa.

We are for each other. Our hearts are knit.

But even so, know this: Jesus is dearest, and Chief of my heart.

I ponder Him now, fully God and fully man. I consider the many ways he was kind to all and friends with some while walking the dusty road called earth. He ministered to his chosen twelve, invested more deeply into Peter, James, and John, and seemed closest to John. (John 13:23)

I have learned this: the deep friendships you crave will not flourish until your heart is first satisfied in Christ. Until then, friendship will be a dangling carrot, a dead-end road, and an idol burning in your heart.