Best Friends

My best friend and I both agree that neither of us has a best friend. We hate the label. So don’t tell her I’m writing this. But a best friend is special. Set apart. Why? A best friend will tell you, in love, that you’re wrong, will wait and walk you through it, and you’ll listen (eventually) and you’ll apologize and change. 

Now my best friend will know that I’m not talking about her. She’ll ask, “When did you ever apologize to me and then change?” Okay, so maybe this is a theoretical best friend. But that’s still the truth of best friendship. Most other friends either won’t tell you you’re wrong, or they won’t tell you in love. And if they do, you won’t listen. Okay, *I* won’t listen. I like to be right. Sadly. 

And where is the joy in being wrong? In apologizing? That just hurts. Let’s look at hurt from another perspective. 

You see your doctor because there’s something very wrong - blood in the toilet. You talk over all your symptoms. You aren’t yet 50. The doctor thinks it’s something treatable, so she prescribed something and let you go on your merry way. The prescription is uncomfortable, but not painful. It doesn’t hurt. 

Six months later the problem hasn’t resolved. She prescribed something else which is merely uncomfortable, perhaps causing some stomach issues. Six more months later you find a different doctor. 

Your new doctor listens, does an exam, then schedules an immediate colonoscopy. Also uncomfortable, but with immediate results. Those results? A huge tumor is found. Stage three cancer. Chemotherapy and radiation begin almost immediately. From experience I’ll tell you, pain ensues. Hurt. Definite measures of hurt. Unfortunately, the first doctor did far more harm than good. That first doctor was not a best friend or even a good friend. 

A best friend chooses temporary hurt over long term harm. Let me say that again. A best friend chooses temporary hurt over long term harm. 

And if you are also a best friend? You allow the hurt. Because you know that person loves you enough to risk the friendship of the person dear to them. And you love them enough to listen through the hurt. You know that they know your backstory well enough to see your blind spots. And you trust them with your future to some degree. 

Changing means, to me, an apology or repentance, and doing what it takes to be a different and better human being because you’ve been called out. In our analogy that would mean choosing treatment over choosing to die of cancer. Joy comes in the changing. In realizing that you can go a different direction and be a different person. You choose life, really. 

I read through the gospels about once a year. Jesus is the ultimate best friend. I read sections and just love everything Jesus says and does. He feeds the five thousand. He weeps when His good friend dies, even though He knows He’s about to bring him back to life. He turns water into wine at a party. What a great friend!

And then He hurts me. Again and again in the gospels His words sting. They’re hard to swallow. They call me to apologize, to repent, to change. Where’s the joy in that? In leaving my own opinions and hard-hearted views behind?

The joy comes when I apologize, turn a different direction, listen to my best friend. He sees my blind spots and points them out in love. He hurts me, but doesn’t harm me. And in changing, I find joy. 

Has someone you love recently called you out? Is there truth in their words? Ouch. Ouch ouch ouch. Let’s talk about it. 

Until I write again …

Flea

P.S. that first doctor? Not mine. My doctor sent me straight to the scope. Saved my life, and I’m grateful.