Friends

Friends

Where does your ladder lean

“Thomas Merton, the American monk, pointed out that we may spend our whole life climbing the ladder of success, only to find when we get to the top that our ladder is leaning against the wrong wall”

Richard Rohr

Falling Upward

Immigrating can be both captivating and and overwhelming. My girls were 8 and 10 when we landed in LA in 1996. Now that they are adult and married, we have had some deep and intimate conversations about what those years were like for them. Sometimes their silent screams were sadly only heard as adulthood could make sense of it all. But before I run ahead of myself let me go back a little.

By en large we were very privileged. Meryl and I came from very close families. Of course each family of origin has its tale of disfunction. We may not always want to “fess up” to this reality, yet we love each other deeply. For our children, aunties were like second mothers. Uncles were like second dads. Cousins provided for an extended family, loved, celebrated, exquisite. And the grandparents…simply loved, over and over again.

Our first church community had grown together. Planting as a group of friends, of similar age, several of us had babies at the same time, so we were community, real, true, authentic.Leaving for foreign shores we four, had to put on new friendship hats, new country, new culture, new community, new friends we hoped would step into the huge hole that our story left behind.

The gift this relocation gave us was to learn friendship from ground zero. We had to let strangers step into the warm places in our hearts. Places of comfort, protection, safety, certainty had to be unlocked to let foreigners walk into sacred spaces. This we did with stumbling steps of nervous surrender.

But what does friendship, real friendship look like? When Jesus the great rabbi, declared “I used to call you servants. I know call you friends”, what did he mean? What did that look like? What did I need to be? What could I expect?

I soon realized that, coming from Africa, produced a picture of friendship, so different from the one I was now beginning to experience. My search for this “holy grail” of true friendship, was a venture of pain and pleasure. Sometimes it felt so close and other times so far away. Such was the mystery. My African biased prejudice and preference had to die and something beautiful had to rise out of the ashes.

Nick and I met when we were both officers in the SA military. He was the finance officer and I was an infantry officer. We had heard of each other but our friendship truly gained traction on the pot-hole ridden road to Lohatla, a large training base in the middle of the Southern African desert. We drove together for hours and hours. We played epic indoor soccer games in one of the unused kitchens in the bush, the ball bouncing off window ledges and sinks, sending pots and pans flying. Every time this was met with a loud roar of approval. Something was cemented there. We became friends. Outside the orb of ministry, the army glued us together. It is now around thirty years ago. It was never function that forged this brotherhood. We have vacationed together. We have loved each other. Our wives are deep friends. We have preached together in the nations. We have bared our soul to each other. We have been broken together. I found a totally true, safe and sublime friend. He has stood with me in times of darkness and gently rebuked me in times of carelessness. Nick became a friend who helped me understand this beautiful mystery.

And of course there is Rob. I met him in 1977. He was a short but ridiculously strong surfer / PE teacher. I was invited to speak at a school event where most of boys high school attended the Christian Club. It was amazing. There was an immediate connection. I was single, recently started dating Meryl but this ex-hippy, dope smoker, now Jesus lover Rob, invited this non dope-head, non surfer into his world. Our jam was playing the soulful music of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young on our guitars. Many hours of folk music, around fires, good wine, steaks and the dreamy conversations of the wonder, mystery and mastery of Jesus, forged us. We loved preaching on the streets, firing each other up in holy, timeless passion. When we both church planted, this was a new adventure that, at once, provoked and confused us. Our shared stories of victory around BBQ fires as well as dark Mondays of abject failure, kept each other chested together in holy brotherhood. Now distance and theological drift have separated us, but the depth of decades of friendship, easily swim through those difficult seas.

And Todd…what a surprise. I was praying one day here in LA, when the Father told me to become Todd’s friend. Now you must understand, he was the cool, young, mega-church pastor in CM. I had never met him and actually did not even know what he looked like. So how do you call up the cool vibey church leader and say “hey God told me to become your friend”? Seriously Lord. That is nuts. But trying to ever be obedient, I called a friend to set up a lunch (to go through the mega-church channels is too complicated) and I am dealing with a shy, humble, introvert. But I did it. Many funny stories from that time as you can imagine. In the 13 years we have been friends, we have so needed each other. Both of us had some pretty brutal local church stuff go down and we were there for each other. We have wept together, dreamed together, eaten together, even going skiing together soon (just don’t tell him this Afrikaner does not ski) - I mean what does a loud, brash, extroverted Afrikaner have in common with a humble, shy, ridiculously gifted American musician…nothing but Jesus. (OK so when I have a really cool idea for our church and present it to Meryl, she will gently suggest I should talk to Proctor because “he is a really good strategist”…really, really. Devastated.)

When I look at Jesus it seemed like he had a best friend in John (well John tells us that in all humility “the disciple Jesus loved”). Then he had the three, Peter, James and John. Not only the sons of thunder, but a friend who turned his back on him in a time of need. Yet a BBQ on the beach righted that ship. As the fish grilled its way to a light brown, moist in the center, Jesus reached out to his friend. The same friend who asked him, how many times we must forgive. Jesus answered probably around seventy times seven. To that friend, Jesus did just that. Forgave him again…

To Meryl and my kids, we had to rediscover friendship. We had to learn that some “friendship” was a once off moment and that was OK. Others it is annual lunch, and that is OK. Beware those who have always have a new best friend, I said in my best philosophical voice. Their brokenness will lead you to becoming the new ex-best friend. Some friends are functional friends who draw close to you because of the role you play and the position you hold. When that position changes they leave for the new guy, I know I have handed over two churches (“ friends” lasted the duration of your position of privilege but not much beyond that). Friendship before function proved to be true - friendship after function was not a high value.

Friendship is for a few. It is a sacred space that opens the heart to live the timelessness of a soul bearing, tender, adventure. It overlooks my limitations and anticipated failure. It announces we matter, not because of our role, title or position, but because we are fully human, knitted together by a Father who crafted the beauty of this mystery. It does not let time, distance, busyness, offense separate us. We matter. We are valuable. We own each other’s stories shouting above the crowd in our victories and holding us in the abyss of our failure - abandoning us is never an option. It does not tire in travail, nor finds an excuse to leave our error unforgiven.

This friendship I have found in such diverse men. That is where my ladder is leaning.