An Open Letter To My Friends
(You know who you are.)
You can trust me with your wildest successes. Don’t tone it down, don’t keep it in. Tell me when you land the business deal you’ve been praying for, when you pay off your credit card, when your kid sleeps through the night, when your song tops the charts. The things you typically reserve for your biggest fan… your mom. Me and your mom. That’s who you tell. And I pledge to be diligent about my heart. To be free from comparison and envy, and if it creeps in, I’ll wage war against it. I want to be a safe place for you when you’re winning.
You can trust me with your pain. When it all goes wrong and your world is crashing in, I want to be safe with your tears. You can scream obscenities into the wind. You could never be too much: never scare me away. I want to weep with you. If you’re not okay, I’m not okay. I feel it deep in my soul when you’re breaking. I’m holding space for you to be what you need to be, to say what you need to say. And I’ll believe for your healing when you can’t. It’s okay that you can’t.
You can trust me with your secrets. The struggles, the dark. I will never think less of you. The worth of who you are is not contingent upon your behavior or reputation. You never have to wonder if what you say to me will be exposed. That thought doesn’t even have to cross your mind. I will never manipulate you with your weaknesses. I won’t cut into you with sarcasm. I will be gentle with you. I want to be a safe place for you to not be strong.
It is safe for you to be different than me. If I wanted a squad who looked and sounded just like me, I’d buy a mirror. I want who you are and what you bring. Your voice. Your perspective. We are called the body of Christ: many parts of one body. I need you to be you, no apologies. You need me to be me. Yes, we’re both committed to fully alive, whole-hearted living. It’s what brought us together in the first place. But your expression is different than I’m used to, and it should be. I need you.
You can tell me anything.