Losing a Friend

Imagine this:

You’re an Aquarius baby, you don’t smoke, you are Vegetarian who only eats gluten free, you love dogs, and are afraid of heights because your most traumatic memory was falling off a balcony as a 6 year old and you were lucky to survive.

Now, you are meeting up with a friend who brags to everyone about how close you guys are. It has been 20 years since you met and you’ve been through some important events together.

Then, one day, he invites you out to lunch. He says he’ll pick you up.

So, he swings by your place and you hop in the car. He offers you a smoke, you politely refuse and are unsure if he is serious or joking. Then he takes you into the city. He leads you into a building and takes you up in the lift to the 80th floor. There is an ‘All You Can Eat Meat’ special at the loft restaurant. You are confused. You sit down, trying not to look out the window. You can tell he wants you to see the view, and are asking yourself why he is doing this to you. You struggle to find a vegetarian dish on the menu, and when the waiter comes around, you grab their attention and ask for that.

He says, “You don’t need to do that. This is all you can eat meat day!”
 

You politely remind him, “I am vegetarian.”

He laughs awkwardly, and says, “Oh? I didn‘t realise you were vegetarian?”

You say nothing. Understandably, the conversation is a bit thin at this point. Then, halfway through the meal, he excuses himself to go to the bathroom. While he’s gone, out come the waiting staff with a big fat juicy birthday cake all lit up with candles. They start singing “Happy Birthday” as they make a beeline for you. The problem is, it’s June. You’re birthday is in January. The friend tags behind them with his hands behind his back. The whole restaurant is looking on; it is so embarrassing. You are forced to blow out the candles.

With a big grin on his face, your ‘friend’ of 20 years pulls out a big bag and in it is a fluffy kitten that he got special permission to bring into the restaurant. You tell this person, “I hate cats.” He looks offended. Then you tell him, “Today is not my birthday.”

“Whoops!” he says. “I am sorry, I thought today was your birthday. I went to a lot of trouble. I kind of went beyond my budget, all for you.” Then he whispers in your ear, “In fact, I may need your help in chipping in for this lunch to be honest. I’ll pay you back.”

“So I have to pay for this? And is this cake even gluten free?” you ask, cynically.

He says without any sign of remorse, “Oh. I am so sorry no it isn’t. I didn’t realise. Well, at least it’s a nice day outside.”

With a deep sigh of grievance filled with disappointment, anger—even a growing resentment—you utter your last words you will ever say to this person, “I am afraid of heights… and you have just made this day the worst of my life. Bravo.”

//////

There are many people who brag about knowing God. They tell others how cool God is, how generous, how kind. But they do not seem to offer much of what God actually delights in. I have been one of those people. I have also been that (worst offender) ‘friend’. I should have taken better care of the people in my heart—but I neglected our memories and affections. Love listens; it holds dear, it remembers, it earnestly strives to satisfy other-than-its-self in gentleness and meekness. 

Jesus said, “many who perform miracles and cast out demons in my name shall call to me ‘Lord, Lord!’ but I shall say, ‘depart from me you practitioners of lawlessness, for I never knew you.’” He also taught his disciples, “Abide in my words”. And what are his words all about? They are about the love that comes from and returns to God. Paul expanded on what that love might look like in 1 Corinthians 13. 

Instead, too many people (and I have been entirely guilty)—whether through the TV, radio, net, iPod, android, or smartphone, or even spiritually through the lies of demons—listen to and read millions of empty words uttered and penned by Jesus’ enemies 24/7. Their minds are filling up with so much meaningless ‘data’ that Jesus has just become a vague impression like a night’s dream in the process of fading with the dawn moon.

We all make choices. If you have chosen to invest your ears in listening to every voice but the voice of The Ultimate Lover, don’t get a shock when He says, “I have no idea who you are. Your soul has nothing to do with me! My love has nothing to do with you.”

Love is a garden and demands nurture and care, which cannot happen without an attentive heart.

(I write this piece remorsefully, thinking of good friends I have lost along the way)