The Perfect Friend
I have this friend who sort of makes me sick. She seems to have the perfect life. She was raised in a great family with parents who are still in good health and still together. They had plenty of money, there was nothing in the world she lacked and nothing she wanted that wasn’t attainable.
She is very intelligent and excelled in school. Now she has an awesome career, but has been able to put it on hold, by choice, to raise her children. Her children are all ridiculously healthy, as is she and her husband and their marriage. And sometimes I wonder if her kids aren’t really little robots because they obey perfectly. Motherhood is smooth sailing for her.
It’s hard not to be jealous of her sometimes. Yet when I’m navigating particularly difficult circumstances in life—like with my health, or issues with the kids, or family problems—she is the first person I call. She just seems to get it and is a guiding light through my troubles.
And if you believe all that, you may also be interested to know that the word gullible isn’t found in the dictionary.
No, I have no such friend. I don’t even believe anyone like that actually exists in this world. And quite honestly, that is a good thing.
I mean, what good would a person like that be? What would happen when she inevitably faced some loss? How would she handle it? How would she teach her kids to deal with problems? Would they be prepared to face the world themselves? And let’s be honest, a friend like that is probably the last person I would go to when I had troubles. How would she be capable of relating to and sympathizing with everyone around her without judgement? Well, you just tell your kids they need to stop hitting each other! And if for some crazy reason that doesn’t work, then you put them in time out—one minute for each year old they are. Then they won’t do it anymore. Simple.
When we suffer, we want someone who understands our pain. We don’t want pat or formulaic answers. We want someone who feels our sorrow, frustration, exasperation, helplessness. Or someone who at least has felt that way before and can relate in some way. Of course, it’s great if they have been through the exact same trial, but they don’t necessarily need to have gone through the same suffering as we have. They just need to understand pain.
I’d be willing to bet no one enjoyed reading about my “friend” with the perfect life. None of you liked her or could relate to her. Yet, oddly, we all want to be her. We all wish for her life.
If we take some time and really think about it, is that truly the life we would want? One that is completely unrelatable to the world around us? We all would love to have an epic story. Well, epic stories don’t come without epic drama. They don’t come without plot twists and narratives you simply cannot predict.
There is a reason no one enjoys reading peaceful, predictable stories. So why would we want to live one? Testimonies are born through the agony of testing.
If at times, it feels like we are alone in this, we are wrong. Even Jesus wasn’t immune to suffering. He understands our pain. He hasn’t just been sitting in heaven for all eternity on a cloud with a harp and shaking his finger at our mishaps. Have you been rejected? So was He. Have you suffered physically? Oh boy, so did He. Have you been poor, homeless? So was He. Have you given up much? He gave up all of heaven. Are you tempted? So was He.
“For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet was without sin.” Hebrews 4:15
The trials we face put us in good company, and they help us relate to those who need us.
Your testimony, your scars, your weakness, your brokenness and even the darkest cervices of your shame that you hide from everyone else—these are your superpowers in the game of giving—in a life that makes a difference in the lives of others. These are what give your words credit when you say, “Tell me you what you’re going through … How can I help? What do you need”?
Most importantly, if you say, “God can save you through this” to someone desperately hurting, you’ll have the credentials to back it up—an epic story of how you know this is true. Your pain, your testing—your testimony—becomes the proof that softens the soil of someone’s heart just enough to let the Spirit’s rain soak through.