Be the Friend Who Takes Them to Jesus

Friendships are tricky. I have found there are all manor of friends in one lifetime, and it can be a struggle to recognize and hold onto the good ones because we’re all flawed and prone to misguided thinking and actions on even our best days. And there’s so many types of friends!

The I’ll-drop-everything-when-you-call friend

The Never-replies-to-group-texts friend

The friend you have on speed dial for impromptu life events when you must talk to someone now

The friend who’s your best friend today then only wants to talk about the weather tomorrow

The Let’s-talk-about-Jesus-and-all-the-deep-things-of-your-heart friend

The fun friend who just wants to laugh and have a good time

The friend who asks about you and the friend who just talks about them

The friend who shows up to do life with you and hang and be present

The I-can-help-with-your-projects friend

The I-will-keep-and-love-your-kids-like-my-own friend

The chit-chatty surface friend and the friend you feel safe to cry with

The ones where your husbands get along but not the kids and vice versa

The friend with unlimited availability and the one who never seems to be available

The Gift-Giver, the Encouraging Texter, the Exercise Buddy, the Impromptu Luncher, the Early Birds and Night Owls

I could go on and on and on. Friends come in all shapes and sizes. They come with their own unique backgrounds and personal boundaries and beliefs about life. Most of us are a combination of all these types of friends and more. Not one friend fits into any mold.

I used to think I always wanted one best friend. I’ve envied everyone in my life who’s ever used that term about one person. I searched and kept my eyes open my entire life for my person. Even after I got married, I kept looking for that soul-mate friend—the Christina Yang to my Meredith Grey, the Huck Finn to my Tom Sawyer, Copper the Hound to my Todd the Fox. Best fwiends forever. It obviously exists, right? People write about it, make movies and television shows about it. I know people that have posted pictures with friends from the time they were babies, friends for life.

I’m not saying having one best friend is an urban legend, an unrealistic goal like fairytale lives and endings, but in my experience, it has not been a reality. Probably because my expectations have always been unreasonably high and unrealistic. That’s on me. But more importantly, I’m not convinced that’s what the Lord wants for my life. I think the pursuit of one best friend is a lie I’ve been chasing, and I’m ready to quit.

Jesus didn’t have just one friend. He had three closest ones in Peter, James, and John (Matthew 5:37, 17, 26:37), then nine more closer ones in other disciples, then how many women that went unaccounted whom He considered friends? He called Lazarus His friend. How many others did He consider friend that go unlisted in scripture? The only person Jesus had a need to be alone with was His Father. The only Person I should have a need to connect with is my Abba Father and my husband. Everyone and anyone else are a bonus gift in the body of Christ.

As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another (Proverbs 27:17). Encourage one another daily (Hebrews 3:13). Don’t give up meeting together (Hebrews 10:25). We are all members of one body (1 Corinthians 12). The Bible is clear about our role in community with others. Friends are essential to life, but for me, my one Best Friend should be Jesus then my husband. Life gets all out of balance when I try to put someone else in that role.

So instead of one best friend, I’ve started evaluating for Peters, Jameses, and Johns instead. If I’m the paralytic on the mat, who are the four people that are going to cut a hole in the roof to lower me into the presence of Jesus (Mark 2:4)? Those are the people who I am vulnerable with even if they aren’t always vulnerable with me. Those are the people I trust with my broken heart and disappointments even if they choose someone else for theirs. God knows our needs, and He puts different people in different people’s lives to meet those needs. That’s a grace and a gift and a good thing.

Reciprocity is a worldly requirement for friendship, not a godly one. The Lord knows, He’s my Best Friend whether I treat Him like He’s mine or not! If reciprocity were a requirement of our relationship, I’d fail constantly, yet He still calls me His friend (John 15:15). Unbelievable grace. If God can continue to call me friend after I fail Him daily, can I not also extend grace to others for their shortcomings and irritable quirks?

Friendship works best when it’s a two-way street because that’s what feels good. True friendship works even when one side of the street has shut down. Peter denied Christ three times after all (Luke 22:54), but what a sweet restoration on the shore of the beach after Christ’s resurrection (John 21). Peter denied his friendship because he was overcome with fear. I wonder what demons your friends might be battling in this season of life. I wonder if they just need to be loved for who they are now and restored for who they could be in the future. What if we all chose to see the best in the ones who have hurt us the deepest?

I don’t know. This journey toward healthy friendships continues to be an adventure that I study and process and ponder. I’m trying to examine the motives of my own heart before I begin to even speculate about the motives of others. Better yet, I’m learning to just ask questions and clarify motives before jumping to conclusions. I’m trying to become the friend who will cut a hole in the roof and lower you to Jesus whether you’d do the same for me or not because there’s great joy in taking others to Jesus and watching Jesus do what only He can do in their lives.

 

Grateful to be His,

Jennifer Durham

Cause for a Jubilee

Jubilee. It’s the word that keeps coming to mind as seven years of reflecting on loss rolls around. At first, I thought I remembered the seventh year was the Year of Jubilee in the Old Testament. Turns out it’s seven years of seven, so the end of the 49^th year or the beginning of the 50^{th (}Leviticus 25:8-10). Nevertheless, jubilee is the odd word that keeps sticking when I reflect on seven years without Savannah Veale. Seven years of processing the grief of her untimely death and the hole in my life left behind. Seven years of feeling like a completely different person because she died. Seven years of difficult mind and soul work to understand what life means to me now.

And God gives me the word jubilee. Such an odd word. An uncommon word to associate with the anniversary of a death. Yet, it is a word that means the celebration of an anniversary. It is a word that represents the ideas of emancipation and restoration.

To say I feel emancipated and restored from the experience of her death feels wrong. Very wrong. It feels like I am betraying her memory. Afterall, part of grief is the inability to express felt love. Yet, here I sit this seventh year, not crying, not depressed. All God keeps whispering is, “Jubilee.”

Maybe it is through the years of processing, the swimming pools of tears cried, the angry words screamed and prayed, and all the unanswered questions that God works to bring emancipation and restoration.

Maybe every blog written in pain, every therapy session overflowing with snotty tissues, and every word penned in public or private was actually the treatment my heart needed all along. To express pain and be heard by someone, even if it was only God, was the very medicine my heart needed to finally feel free again, to feel more whole this year than last. It’s taken me seven years to get here and be at peace, to experience jubilee on this day instead of despair. It may take others seventy.

I wholeheartedly agree, time doesn’t heal all wounds, but it does offer the gift of perspective. A perspective I have now, seven years later with her gone, that I would not have had had she stayed.  This does not mean I don’t miss her or even that I’m grateful she died. I can’t hardly even swallow those words, much less type them.

But I am grateful that my Jesus has been gentle with me. He has been understanding and long suffering and never impatient. He has poured grace upon grace into my marriage, my friendships, my children, and all my life for seven years now. He has not forgotten her, and He’s allowed me to mourn her in my way in my time, all the while showing me His way in His time. He shifted my perspective over these seven years, not to see that He healed the wound, but to see what the wound has revealed about me and about Him.

Emancipated and restored people still walk around wounded, yet they also still experience the joy of jubilee. Grief does not cancel out joy. They are not mutually exclusive of each other. I think it’s taken seven years for me to accept this as truth. I am fully aware it may take others longer, and I may be in tears tomorrow. Both are ok. Jesus is gentle with you right where you are, always your best interest at the heart of His every intention.

So, on this jubilee, this seven-year anniversary, I am grateful for Jesus who never gave up on me even when I gave up on Him. I’m grateful He is the story I get to write. I don’t celebrate her death, but I will celebrate that I can testify a relationship with Jesus frees and restores. I have lived it for seven years. No one can take that knowledge and that experience from me. No one will ever convince me God isn’t good, and He doesn’t care. You just can’t.

My word of advice and encouragement for my brothers and sisters who still grieve, hard—Take it all to Jesus. All of it. All the anger, all the pain, all the questions, all the silence, all the waiting, all the panic, all the frantic—take all of it to Him. Wrestle with Him. Work out your salvation with fear and trembling (Philippians 2:12). He is mighty to save (Zephaniah 3:17). His ways are not our ways, but His intentions are nothing but for our good (Isaiah 55:8, Genesis 50:20). Will you make the choice to stay the course, to follow Jesus long enough and close enough in relationship to witness the good He intends?

Maybe that’s the celebration. Seven years today I can testify as a witness to the good He intended. I can stand as the oak tree in Isaiah 61:3 claiming all the promises to be found therein. If death and grief unearthed a reflection of God’s splendor hiding deep inside me, then His will be done, and all the glory is His. These seven years God has emancipated me unto Himself; He has restored me unto Himself in ways I did not know I needed to be freed, in ways I did not know I was lost. That is cause for a jubilee.

Seven years is a long time, forty-nine even longer. Christ has long suffered with and for His people since He first created us all and set time in motion. If He has not called it quits on us yet, can you not seek Him just one more hour of one more day? The jubilee is coming. I know this to be true.

Grateful to be His,

Jennifer Durham

Nineteen Years

Nineteen years. I was nineteen when we first met. I was nineteen when I knew he was the man for me. I was twenty when we first kissed, and I was twenty-one when I said the vows that would bind us together for this lifetime.

We have literally grown into adults together. Under the same roof, in the same bed, sharing all of life’s circumstances, we have chosen each other.

Not because it was easy. No. The first year was tough. Adding children to our home was tougher, and this year has changed us both in ways we never could have foreseen, for the better, but not without wounds.

Why does it work? Because he chooses Jesus first. I choose Jesus first. Somewhere in the middle of us both choosing Jesus, Jesus convinces us to choose each other—every day.

We are two imperfect, completely screwed up people with our own passions, desires, and wills. He’s an extrovert. I’m an introvert. He’s an otter; I’m a beaver. He wants to wipe all the surfaces, and I want to take a toothbrush to the corners. He likes a plan, and I just want to know everything is in its place.

We have clashed like titans and passed like two ships in the night. Every marriage in life has its seasons—winters, springs, summers, and falls. The only thing that has never changed is he chooses Jesus first, and I choose Jesus first. Those sad, dark days when we don’t choose Jesus first, we struggle, and we blame, and we point fingers and the enemy starts to look like the winner.

But when we choose Jesus first, Jesus prompts us to serve with love. So he will wake up in the morning and make my tea, and I don’t plan meals with mushrooms and water chestnuts. He will sit and talk to me about his quiet time and the deep things of his heart, and I will snuggle next to him on the couch and remember to give him big hugs. He will bring me flowers on Fridays, and I will look for that parking spot next to a curb, so only one side of the car has the chance of getting dinged. He will hold me when I cry, and I will listen intently when he processes out loud.

We don’t do these things because we love each other. Hear me. These don’t come naturally. The automatic response is to not want to do these things sometimes for all kinds of reasons—too tired, too angry, too busy, etc.

But Jesus. He fills and wills and enables a heart that thinks of others first. A relationship with Jesus stretches and strengthens all the right relationship muscles. Jesus first is the only reason we are still married nineteen years later. He reveals to us how to love each other well, and it has taken nineteen years of mistakes and practice to make it look like it does today, and we’re still a work in progress. My man wants 56 more years of mistakes and practice, and while I long to see my Jesus sooner than that, if staying on this earth makes that life-long dream of my best friend come true, I pray the Lord makes it so.

Joey is my biggest fan, and I am his. He supports me in my dreams, and I his. We chase the heart of Jesus together, and it is the most thrilling adventure race of a lifetime. If you want a marriage that will stand the test of time and the trials of life, find a mate who loves Jesus more than they love you. They’re a keeper.

Grateful to be His,

Jennifer Durham