Find the Courage to Keep Your Heart Open to Friendship

“Look, I think those are the new short-term missionaries,” my friend whispered to me as we sat in the church balcony, scanning the congregation below. This was an exciting time of year, ripe with possibility. With the arrival of new missionaries, who would work at the school affiliated with our church, you never knew if you would make a new friend or perhaps even meet an eligible bachelor!

For the past few school years, I had done my best to make the new student missionaries feel welcome because I knew what it felt like to be in their shoes. I knew the potential for loneliness and confusion as you adapted to a new place and culture and tried to find community, so I made an effort to befriend them. Our family always opened our home to them, often hosting game nights or lunches after church.

But this year … I didn’t feel the energy to extend the same welcome. I was not excited. I was emotionally burnt out. As fun as it could be to meet new people, it was exhausting to make a friend and then say goodbye – over, and over, and over. I didn’t know if I had the capacity to do it again.

Growing up, I was usually the one to leave a place, rather than be left. The excitement of going somewhere new typically counteracted the sadness of farewells. Besides, I was a great long-distance friend!

My mind flashed back to Little Me, earnestly writing letters and sharing a story club with my pen pals, or sitting anxiously in front of the phone with a list of questions and talking points as I got up the nerve to call my faraway friends. (I’ve always hated phone calls, for some reason!)

Although some of my long-distance friendships slowly tapered off in my teen years and early twenties, others stayed alive. It was delightful to wait for the mailman and see my name on a letter. The fun parts of long-distance friendship, helped by my natural love of writing, went some way to mitigate any sense of loss.

However, in the moment that I was sitting in church, looking down on the fresh faces of the latest school staff, I had been living in the same place for several years. Now, I was the one being left, not the one leaving and going on to new adventures, so I had nothing to divert me from the emotional toll of saying goodbye.

Feeling and Processing Pain

When I distracted myself from the grief of goodbyes by throwing myself into the next adventure or friendship, I thought it was an efficient way of coping with the emotional challenges of my transient life.

But the trouble with repressing grief and pain, as I eventually realized, is that it will come back to haunt you later. You can try to sweep it under the rug – but you will end up tripping over the rug.

When you try to numb your heart to grief and pain, you also numb it to joy and love.

As C.S. Lewis puts it, “To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give it to no one, not even an animal… Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”[1]

We are designed for love. We are designed for relationships. And in this broken world, risking love means that we will sometimes feel pain. Whether it is the pain of disappointed expectations, selfish behaviours, or saying goodbye, some hurt is inevitable.

Rather than being afraid of pain, we need the courage to feel it. We must acknowledge our wounds to find healing. To keep our hearts alive, we must process our pain.

Lauren Wells, who developed a model for understanding TCK losses called “The Grief Tower,” writes, “Throughout our growing-up years, all of the losses and grief-inducing experiences have stacked up like blocks, building a tower higher and higher… It is important that we take the time to consider the blocks on our Grief Tower and then intentionally process each block.”[2]

She suggests asking questions about each “block,” such as, “What emotions did I feel in that season or situation? How has it influenced my thought processes going forward? What do I want to take from that experience and what do I want to leave behind?” There are also a variety of ways to process grief, whether with a professional, or through art, journalling, or exercising, for example.[3] This helps us heal, instead of allowing the Grief Tower to get so tall that it collapses, with painful consequences for our health and relationships.   

Is Friendship Worth the Grief?

Over the years, I have had many opportunities to choose between closing my heart off or keeping it open. I’ve wrestled with the question, “Is it worth the pain of another goodbye to invest in this friendship today?”

I have discovered that the answer is a resounding “Yes!”

I never know if a friendship will last for years to come. But even if it doesn’t, I’ve found there are always treasures to be discovered, even in a temporary relationship.

Sometimes, I’ve found a pal to explore a new neighborhood with, helping me settle in better. Sometimes, I’ve found a fellow book lover to chat about what we’re reading lately. Sometimes, I’ve found a friend to laugh with (and it is so helpful to see the funny side of life, especially dealing with awkward cultural differences and mistakes). Sometimes, I’ve found a deep thinker and warm heart to mentor me through ups and downs.

Additionally, friendship is a two-way blessing. As much as my friend is a gift to me, I am also God’s gift to them. Whether it is a shallow relationship or a deep one, seasonal or long-term, I can be the kind of friend they need too. My life experiences and lessons learned can help them on their own journey.

Quoting Lewis again, “Christ, who said to the disciples ‘Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you,’ can truly say to every group of Christian friends ‘You have not chosen one another but I have chosen you for one another.’ … [Friendship] is the instrument by which God reveals to each the beauties of all the others.”[4]

Friendship is a precious gift God wishes to give us. I don’t have to be afraid to accept this gift because of the pain of goodbyes. I know that I can feel the pain and move through it because there are tools and safe people to help me heal.

One day, I will never have to say goodbye again. What a joy it will be to spend eternity delighting in all the friendships I made here, and the ones I can make in the new earth (see Revelation 21:1–4).

What Will You Do with Your Heart?

It is not an easy thing to keep your heart open to friendship when you have experienced repeated loss. It takes courage.

Yet finding the strength to stay open and vulnerable is not solely up to us. The Bible promises:

“He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength.” Isaiah 40:29 ESV

“For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.” 2 Timothy 1:7 ESV

“I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength." Philippians 4:12–13 NIV

There are times when it feels like we are living in plenty, experiencing a rich community and deep friendships. But at other times, it may feel like we are living in want, feeling the pain of goodbyes and loneliness. But as Paul reminds us, through Christ’s help and power, we can live bravely and contentedly in all kinds of circumstances. 

May you find the strength and courage to keep your heart open and receive the gifts of friendship that God is offering to you.

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