One thing I’ve come to learn is this: you can be surrounded by people and still feel alone.
I know a lot of people. I mean, a lot of people. I work at a church with over 2,000 people. Yet despite all of those relationships, there are very few people who truly know me.
You would think that knowing hundreds of people would naturally mean having dozens of close friends. But the older I get, the more I realize that familiarity and friendship are not the same thing.
That led me to ask a simple question:
How do I know if someone is truly my friend?
Before answering that, it’s helpful to define what a friend actually is. One definition I came across describes friendship as “a freely chosen relationship marked by mutual trust, affection, support, and companionship. Unlike family, it is chosen; unlike romance, it is not defined by romantic love.”
The word that stands out to me is mutual.
I love sitting with people and listening to their stories. I enjoy helping others, serving where I can, and working on projects that matter. Those things bring me joy. But serving someone doesn’t automatically make us friends.
It feels like most of the time people reach out because they need something from me. I love serving people. But being needed and being known aren’t the same thing.
If most of my interactions with someone revolve around what I can do for them, that’s not necessarily friendship. It’s just an interaction. Friendship is something deeper. It’s reciprocal. It’s choosing one another outside of obligation or convenience.
One of my favorite texts to receive is, “Wanna hang out?”
There’s something refreshing about it. For a moment, it feels like someone isn’t reaching out because they need something from me. They simply want to spend time together. For once, someone simply wanted to spend time with me for me. They want to know how I’m doing.
We all ask, “How are you?” It’s almost second nature. You know someone means it when they stop you and ask, “No… how are you really doing?” At the time of writing this, I don’t remember the last time someone genuinely asked me that. That’s what makes those conversations so meaningful. They’re the ones that stay with you because they remind you what it feels like to be known, not just noticed.
If I’m honest, there are moments when I want to run away from it all. I wonder, if I packed up and moved tomorrow, would people miss me because of who I am, or because of what I do for them?
The reality is that we can’t manufacture deep friendship. We can’t force people to choose to be our friends. That’s what makes friendship so meaningful in the first place. It’s freely given. If my hope rests on whether people choose me, I’ll always be disappointed. People will let me down. That’s part of being human.
Christ never will.
Friendship is a gift.
Christ is enough.
