A Good Friend

He passed the day after Christmas. Just three short days ago. A tough day to die in my opinion, especially for family members left behind. But better I suppose to pass on this day than passing on Christmas day itself. A strong man physically lost to a relatively brief battle against leukemia, he fought like a soldier. Though I didn't know him well, today I was honored to attend his funeral. He was appropriately and respectfully remembered by all in attendance. By all counts, a good man according to his eulogy. I left there wishing I had better known him.

Funerals have always made me pensive and tend to send my thoughts into reflective overload. Honoring the deceased takes on more significance in each of my passing years. I find myself more engaged to the funerary statements, more aware of what is being said (or what is not being said) of the one for whom the gathered mourn. At times I find the words haunting, as if I am looking to find something to be said of myself among the words spoken of another.

Funerals are to me as if, for a moment, someone turns up the volume on one's own life clock. The ticks are more pronounced than on other days, like an old grandfather clock against the wall in a quiet living room of a house in which you are merely visiting. Time ebbs onward, though we appear much more aware of it on these days. Solemn indeed, rightfully so.

It was touching to hear his closest friends share of their life together. How they met, the fun they'd shared, the fact that all four of the closest of these friends were by birth "only" children and therefore chose to "adopt" one another as surrogate "brothers and sisters." "One can't complain when you get to choose your brother and sister," was one spoken statement. "No sibling rivalry or jealousy or envy, just..." love, I presume.

Reflective as I've been on the idea of friendships of late, today further informed my thoughts and it continues to assist in the reshaping of my approach to friendship. Perhaps it has been the fear of loss that has kept my heart guarded from the closest of friendships? However, today I learned from the friends of the beloved departed man that it is as grand an honor to hurt for (or with) a friend as it is to laugh with them. I would like to think some level of chivalry has allowed me to remain safely at large from the most intimate of relationships -- not wanting my friends to hurt when I let them down or when I'm finally boxed away in the flesh -- but I then realize the arrogance of such a thought as if I were even able to maintain such a thing... to hope one would be sorely missed as I have hoped for, surely is full of ego-centric toxins.

Is this perhaps not the very glory of true friendship? To willingly allow pain to enter in and challenge the veracity of the bond between two individuals? Isn't this the point the biblical author Paul makes writing of our estrangement from God? "For if, when we were God's enemies, we were reconciled to him through the death of his Son, how much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved through his life!" (Romans 5:10)

To be a friend means we will hurt and we will get hurt. But what have we if we don't take that risk? Being "friend" means we will occasionally disappoint, we will at times abuse, we will periodically neglect and yet, it is in that momentary dissonance that a true friendship has the blessed opportunity to struggle, to fight, to cry and to mourn, but also to forgive and to restore and to be reconciled. How much more a "friend" shall we be, when all this is accomplished?

I heard this truth today in the testimony of some good friends of an officer (literally -- retired Air Force) and a gentleman who is now experiencing the ultimate expression of reconciliation with God through the power of grace found only in Jesus Christ. His remaining friends stood and testified to the power of friendship as first taught us in the redeemed friendship we have with our Creator.

Jesus has cleared the way for us to live like true friends by giving us this simple command: "Love each other as I have loved you" (John 15:13). Seems simple enough, until we face the potential pain of it all. Then we must decide whether we are "in" or "out." As one who has always struggled with being fully "in," confessionallly I'm finding a new way to friendship.

Truth be told, I've kept distance in friendships not because I didn't want others to hurt (I've hurt enough people to prove that wasn't the case), but because I myself was afraid of being hurt. However, I've found that maintaining a "safe" distance in friendships only produces isolation, fear and finally, nowhere to turn when you find yourself sinking "below the waterline." To not allow one's self to be close to another is ultimately selfishness.

If Jesus thought only of his own pain, we would still be languishing in it. Instead, the day after Christmas, a good friend went on to be with the Lord at the sacrifice of Jesus Christ and the pain borne by those friends remaining on earth is an honor and privilege to bear for a life well lived as a true friend.

May the same kind of friendship be said of us all when it is our time to leave.