But I Call You Friends

Old Friends

In my grandmother’s day, people did not call each other by first names without permission. Sometimes that permission was not granted for years. I use the word much more freely, sometimes calling a person “my friend” after merely agreeing me once or twice on social media. To the women in my grandmother’s circle the friend designation carried a certain responsibility. Friendship meant loyalty. It meant standing up for each other and contending for another woman’s welfare if called upon. Grandma knew a lot of people. She was an extrovert before the word was invented. The word may have been invented to describe her. She knew a lot of people, but she had only a few fast friends.

People I have met who are well-known enough to have fans tell me that many of their devoted followers are quick to claim close relationship without permission. (Neither confirming nor denying anything here.) Photos — especially selfies — do lie. Six seconds in the same camera frame backstage do not a friendship make. Fans can turn on a celebrity in a minute if they feel personally disappointed by a cancelled concert or even a change in marital status. Fans think they know a famous person when in truth they do not. Most of what they perceive is either from P.R. staff or media coverage published by people who really don’t know the heart of the famous person either.

Jesus was a famous person. He spoke to crowds but he didn’t need them. He had compassion but found the mass of neediness exhausting. He knew what was in the hearts of those who wanted to use him for their own purposes. When he did not give them a political solution to their deeper spiritual problem many former “fans” turned on him.

The night before they did though, he had Passover supper with the men who knew him best. He said, “No longer do I call you servants, for a servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all things that I heard from My Father I have made known to you.”

A person offering friendship shares more than opinions. A friend shares his or her heart. He told them straight out who he was and what was about to happen.  

The disciples didn’t fully grasp what it meant to be a friend of the Messiah. Most of them disappeared when the going got tough. One of them even betrayed him, trading the inside information he was trusted with to tell the authorities where they could find Jesus away from the crowd that could potentially get in the way or make a scene.

Betrayal is part of the risk of friendship. Being a friend means we give another person all the ammunition they need to deeply hurt us. Real betrayal only comes from those close enough to truly wound us. Jesus taught us how to be fully human by allowing himself to be vulnerable to the kind of pain only those we love can inflict.

Jesus showed them that real love means the willingness to lay your life down for a friend. He demonstrated this love by laying his life down for his friends. His action requires response. He says to us, “Real love looks like this. I gave everything for you. Are you willing to give everything for me? I call you friend. Can you call me friend knowing what it means to be a friend of the Son of God?”

As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love. If you keep my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commands and remain in his love. I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete. My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command. I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you. You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit—fruit that will last—and so that whatever you ask in my name the Father will give you. This is my command: Love each other.” (John 15:9-17 NIV)

I hear him saying “I love you so much I went through hell and back for you. I offer you my friendship. Now let me ask you, are you my friend or just a fan?”

The Valley of Trouble

Photo: Valley on the Jasper Parkway

After spending the week with my two wee grandchildren I am even more convinced one of the greatest challenges we face as humans is the tyranny of “the wants.”

The little guy is not quite two years old, and for a not quite two-year old is adorable, affectionate and pretty considerate. But he is discovering he has a will.

I am learning to phrase my questions in a way to make “No!”  the desired answer.

“You don’t want to stay awake all afternoon, do you?”

“No!”

“Do you want to leave your toys out of the toy box like this?”

“No!”

Even so there is the problem with the abundance of choice. His latest favourite phrases this week are, “Another one,” and “Something else.” Two bites into a snack it occurs to him that there are other fruits in the fridge and other crackers in the cupboard.

“Something else” also tends to be the something else his sister is playing with. I tried to explain to her that the easiest way to get a toy back is to offer him something even more attractive than what he is trying to seize.

That worked really well until she noticed that he now had something better than she did and the grabbing began again. When I tried to play mediator she said, “But I WANT it.” That’s her trump card. But I WANT it!

She looks at me with that desperate victim of craving look I have seen too many times. WANT is here. It must be satisfied. Don’t you understand, Nana?

Oh sweetie. Do I understand? The truth is, although I have learned not to say it out loud, at least not in a whiney tone that could make wallpaper want to curl itself back up the wall, inside I still want to stomp my plump little feet and whine, “but I WANT it!” It is so easy to stand knee-deep in a room full of abundant choices and cry, “But I WANT the one he has.”

What  I want:

I want you two to play quietly and safely together so I can chase rabbit trails on my laptop.

I want a new cordless mouse. This one is annoying.

I want to eat a bowl of almonds and chocolate chips and drink a real cream full fat caffeine-laced latte after 2 in the afternoon.

I want to play MY music –loudly– if only to get the “Yes my name is Iggle-Piggle” song out of my head.

I want to be loving and persevering and patient and merciful and compassionate and good without any challenges in my life.

I want faith without ever having to wrestle with doubt.

I want joy in the morning without weeping in the night.

I WANT it!

But my little granddaughter said something very mature for her three years yesterday. She said she would rather take her nap a little early so she would have more time with her Daddy later in the day when he was finished his work –even though she really, really wanted to stay up longer and had that option. She was willing to ignore the WANT monster for the greater reward of relationship with her father. I love this kid.

I’ve heard it said we need much more preparation to survive times of abundance than we do to survive hard times. Hard times teach us that God is our provider. Only those who understand where true wealth lies can handle abundance and not be distracted by it.