The Be There Friend: Loving Well When Everything Else Sucks

By S. J. Henderson

“Hey S.J.! I know we haven’t talked in a while,” the private message said. “I noticed something’s going on with you, and I just wanted to know how I could pray for you more specifically.”

My clicky-finger hovered over the reply button, waiting for God to give the green light on spilling my guts to my concerned friend.

Jezebel that I was, I’d filed for divorce from my husband of nineteen years after feeling unsafe enough to flee to a hotel with our three young boys. The day I received the prayer message, I’d been homeless for almost two months, couch-surfing at my mom’s because I didn’t have anywhere else to go or the money to do so. When my church found out about my situation, instead of offering a place to stay or any sort of honest-to-goodness hands-and-feet-of-Jesus kind of help, they removed me from every one of my ministries. I was hemorrhaging in a corner, hackles up, with one eye narrowed at anyone who dared to venture too close, and the other fixed on the nearest exit.

I never responded to the friend who’d asked how they could pray specifically. God knew the details and didn’t need that laser-focused prayer. Deep down, I realized my friend was looking for the scoop.

I’d told almost no one anything, because it was no one’s business. I’d told almost no one anything because I’d discovered an odd side effect of being in crisis: The most difficult, life-changing seasons of our lives naturally refine friendships. Illness or disease, death, betrayal, addiction, parenting woes, financial foibles, marriage kerfuffles, and, yes, even divorce will shine a light on relationships in a way that almost nothing else can.

In short: it doesn’t matter how many coffee chats, kids’ play dates, Bible studies, or scrapbooking parties you share with the women (and men, I suppose, if scrapbooking’s their thing) you consider your friends. You will not truly know those you “do life” with until the you-know-what hits the fan and they show you who they really are.

Here are the friends I met during my tough season. You’ve rubbed shoulders with many of them already, but may not have been properly introduced. Allow me the pleasure.

The Nosy Neighbor definitely wants to know how they can pray for you more specifically. Adding people to their church’s prayer list is their love language, but they “don’t want to gossip.”

The God Squad friend sees the world in black and white only. They profess to believe in a merciful God, but only when you’re doing everything right. Most of what they say comes “from a place of love.” A literal statue of their pastor graces a pedestal in their living room.

The One-Upper knows exactly how you’re feeling because they’ve definitely been there… but they did it while raising ten children, putting themselves through law school after waitressing all day, and spending weekends building orphanages in Uganda with Oprah.

The Hypochondriac. You might be contagious, and The Hypochondriac knows it. Better to quarantine than get involved or (gasp) catch it.

The Embroidered Pillow. This delightful friend can spout off more clichés and out-of-context Scripture passages than the sales rack at Hobby Lobby. They are responsible for such gems as “S/he’s in a better place now,” “It’s God’s will,” and, “Everything happens for a reason.” Embroidered Pillows adore a heaping helping of cheap forgiveness.

The Flying Monkey, AKA the spy, specializes in carrying out the bidding of the Wicked Witch. The Flying Monkey can most commonly be found in situations where an abuser, for lack of a more specific word, has convinced others to help him/her in their quest to control the target of their mistreatment. These friends often show up as concerned messengers, happily doing “the Lord’s work.” The Flying Monkey may not know that they are, indeed, a flying monkey.

The Ghost hangs on every word you say, but vanishes into thin air when spooked.

The Mime has no idea what to say or do, so they stay quietly in their little box, with or without face paint and beret. Closely related to The Ghost.

The Anxious Annie wants to be a supportive friend but may be too overwhelmed by their own anxiety to pull the trigger. May respond well to treats. The Anxious Annie appears similar to The Mime, but fears being The Ghost.

The Eenie Meeny Miny Mo friend doesn’t want to pick sides, to the point of crossing to the other side of the street just to avoid the confrontation. They inevitably join The Ghost and The Mime… wherever they end up.

The Victim makes everything all about them. If you share too much, you make them uncomfortable. If you share too little, you clearly must not value their friendship.

The Dear Abby friend has advice for every situation, ever, whether or not you asked for it. Need horrendously outdated tidbits on raising toddlers? Check. A scathingly misogynistic book that saved her dysfunctional marriage? She’s got it right here in her purse. She also knows of a great weight loss plan and skin cream that won’t clog pores, but not that you have those problems, dear.

The Helper thrives on getting their hands dirty and showing friendship in practical ways. This friend shows up with chocolate and casseroles, just because. She will scrub your filthy toilets and pull weeds, even if you’re too embarrassed to ask. They’ll volunteer to help you bury the bodies of your enemies, but that’s just the chocolate talking.

The Ride-or-Die will cut someone if they look at you, their friend, the wrong way. They get by on coffee, Jesus, and cuss words (and, yes, they have a “Swear Jar”). Their halos tend to be slightly off center, but their hearts are in the right place.

The Listener is a breath of fresh air, truly hearing what you have to say without the need to offer advice. Good listeners don’t run to gossip, even to the church prayer list. They answer your texts or phone calls, even after they’ve discovered the yawning chasm that is your trainwreck life.

… and the list goes on.

Did you find your friends on this list? Did you find yourself on this list? Though I am being a bit silly, I have come across each and every one of these friends, and I’m sure you have, too. It’s not my intention to offend any of you, dear ones; but, if my words offend you, take a few moments to lean into that and ask yourself why. What hurts are coming to mind now? Who do you need to apologize to? In what relationships might you need to explore forgiveness? Where could you dive deeper in to love yourself and others better?

When considering how to be a better friend in these heartbreakingly real moments, might I offer one big, huge, ginormous suggestion?

Be there.

It’s the easiest and the hardest thing to do, choosing to simply be present for someone trudging through the sticky parts of life. You will be tempted to fix things. You will want to offer advice. You will want to judge. You’ll have your own stuff going on, and there will be mixed emotions around that. You may even want to bolt because sharing someone else’s burden is not for the faint of heart. All of that, and more, may be true, but you will never know the full impact of just being there until it is your turn to walk through the fire.

Through the course of my divorce and related shenanigans, my social circle—and even my family circle—whittled down from hundreds to a handful in a matter of weeks. Days, even. The friends who remained didn’t have to solve any of my problems. I didn’t ask for that or expect it; I was clipping through problems on my own, with God’s guidance. They didn’t have to say or do anything, other than just hold a safe place for me when I needed to unpack from a new day’s misadventures. More than anything else, I needed Be There friends who would cover me in unconditional love at a time where every ounce of kindness counted double. I needed Be There friends who would pray with me and for me, even if they didn’t know all of the details. I needed Be There friends who valued my life and my friendship enough to show they cared.

God never intended for us to live life on our own. When Jesus walked the earth, He surrounded himself with mostly trustworthy (I’m looking at you, Judas!) men and women whom He truly loved as friends. He shared in their heartaches, their illnesses, their deaths. He fed them when they were hangry and comforted them when they were flipping the flip out. Ultimately, He died for not only His friends, but the world (John 15:3, 1 John 3:16). What better example of love and a Be There kind of friendship is there?

Two are better than one, because there is a good reward for their labor together. For if they fall, then one will help up his companion. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has no one to help him up.
Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 (MEV)