What a Friend

“What a friend we have in Jesus, All our sins and griefs to bear…”
-Hymn, “What a Friend We Have in Jesus”

Jesus as Friend. The idea never really clicked for me until I realized–oh, probably a decade ago–that He is the only one who has been with me through every chapter of my story. The only one who has seen it all, heard it all and loves me anyway. And when I let this sink in, it just makes this friendship so precious to me. The hymn rings true.

My parents were there for my first breath. Our relationship and communication have always been solid. I am grateful we have kept close into my adulthood. I thoroughly enjoy their company and respect them as individuals, and therefore, have invited them into parts of my life that some parents don’t get access to.

But they were not with me in every elementary classroom and college dorm room. They do not witness my daily interactions with my coworkers or husband and son. They know more light than dark, and their perception of who I am will always be biased and skewed by the blonde girl with thick glasses who stole their hearts with her poem writing and cello playing.

My husband is a fellow child of the ‘80s and can relate to many experiences I had before meeting him. We know the words to the same Pearl Jam and Nelly songs. We remember playing the Oregon and Amazon Trail games on our Apple IIGS desktops. You know, those important ties that bind.

But he is absolutely befuddled by the girl who was in plays and show choir. We agree that if we’d met in our school days, we probably wouldn’t have liked each other. He can’t comprehend why I dated some of the guys I dated. He never saw me anchor a newscast live or play that cello. He never met my Nana. And, even today, as much as I try to update him on the work I do and all the interoffice dynamics, he still can’t really understand it all.

He simply wasn’t on the scene of my story pre-2009. He missed out on a lot of the events and experiences that made me the woman I am today. I’ve caught him up on a lot of the basic facts and big plot developments, but still… he’s a relatively new character.

But not Jesus.

“I have been talking to you since I was a little girl
So many sweet memories of giving you my world”
-Sara Groves, “You are Wonderful”

I have been talking to him since I was a little girl. As if he didn’t know the action before it ever unfolded, I let him in on it.

This isn’t meant to be cute or pious. Because, honestly, as my life has unfolded, it hasn’t ever been particularly cute or consistently pious.

No, this relationship has been real. A friendship where sometimes there are long, dry stretches between conversations and sometimes you’re connecting every hour. I’ve been mad at Him and I’ve been brought to tears by His abundant goodness.

This friendship’s most remarkable feature is not that it’s with God. It’s that He remains near when I am far, and that when I am a horrible, no-good, very bad excuse for a friend, He is still there. Even when I take Him for granted and hurt Him on purpose. He never leaves, nor forsakes, and His mercy always triumphs any judgment. And there’s been plenty to judge, I promise you.

I especially love that, while he’s been privy to every second of my life, He’s shared in those raw, private moments that not another soul has witnessed. Crying into a pillow. Sitting on a closed toilet seat, fully dressed, head in my hands, just to get away. Shouting in frustration. Belting out songs in my car. Before an important meeting. Moaning all night long in a bathtub, needing medical help and not knowing it. Walking alone on a poorly lit city street. Breaking things. Peeking in as my son sleeps.

What has God seen in your life that no one else has? What can Jesus understand that no one else does? What ugly or hidden aspects of your life is He familiar with? Will you love Him for it? Will you thank Him for sticking with you, even at your worst?

He is not a fair-weather friend. He is a forever friend. That’s why this is a friendship worth investing in. That’s why I continue to give Him my world, year after year. I will hand it over until He carries me into the next.