Friendship is messy. This is not a groundbreaking truth, I know. But it is helpful for me to say it out loud and remind myself, “Jon, friendship is messy.” Personally, I like clean and ordered–safe even. Friendship is not that. It’s muddled and miscalculated and misunderstood. Some people can do messy. I admire these disheveled souls. They hoard friendships like old newspapers. They treasure each person for what and who they are. No strings attached. They say they know exactly where everything is in the mess. Not me. I need my friendships like my books—ordered, alphabetical, and predictably safe. But friendship is not that. It’s messy. As it turns out though, messy is a virtue of sorts. I’ve found that those with messy kitchens are usually good cooks (though not always). Lived in homes represent lived-in kinds of lives. Messy, at least in friendship, is necessary for something really good to happen.
The alternative to friendship is safety. It sounds nice enough. Who doesn’t desire a bulwark of security? But safety is no consolation prize to the wildness and wonder of friendship. Safety means alone—thick walls of isolation; hearts protected but forever forlorn in isolation. Safety is the lie of this culture. “You can do it on your own.” A safe lie. Friendship is the dangerous promise of the kingdom. “A friend loves at all times; a brother is born for adversity” (Proverbs 17:17). Friendship is what we are made for.
This kind of community is the river that we are designed to drink from . . . to swim in . . . to enjoy.
I have swum in this river before. But it’s a wild river—rapids and rocks and bodies strewn on the banks. No wonder so few swim. It’s dangerous. Most take a picnic and watch from a safe distance. Netflix and Facebook and virtual living have become our community. Ironically, those are neither safe nor wild. Benign is the only adjective fitting. A community of sorts that is cold and lifeless. It requires nothing from us, but also never gives us what our hearts were made for.
Where do we go from here?
I’ve found that grace pushes me into the river. It turns out that Jesus isn’t as interested in my comfort as I once believed. He knows my predilection to hunch over my phone, ignoring the world around me. So He pushes me in. He smiles, knowing that I can’t swim. I am drowning on my own. But incidentally, perhaps sovereignly, another is there in the water to catch me. A friend. A fellow swimmer looking to do life together.
Friendship is hard and messy and dangerous, but it’s also beautiful. Worth every scrape and wound, knowing the beauty of grace is sustaining me in each sacred second.
The danger in wanting predictable relationships is that when people are unpredictable—as they will be—we justify our choice to cut off the relationship, to avoid the mess and the “real”ness of friendship between imperfect people. It’s sad that we can’t accept the brokenness of others, that we can’t truly forgive or offer the chance for restoration. We place strings of expectation on those we should love and we treat human beings like disposable goods. God in Christ chooses to “treasure each person for what and who they are.” How can we do less?
Genny, great thoughts. True on all counts.
This is where I’m currently living. I am in the process of dealing with issues from being sexually abused for years growing up. My church small group kept pushing me…”You’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe.” Then when I believed them and got messy they didn’t know how to handle it. Several of them literally stopped talking to me. I still go to that church because I feel confirmation in my spirit that is where God wants me to be. It just hurts. And I am alone. Friendships only work when BOTH people understand it’s messy.
I’m so sorry. The church (the people) don’t often know what is required of being in community. Eugene Peterson’s sentiment “Church is the most dangerous place” resounds when it gets hard. Keep at it. God is present.
Thanks so much for sharing your heart!