Go Into All The World And Make Friends

My son recently asked me who my best friends are. I took a moment to think, then said, “My best friend in the U.S. is Reza* and my best friend in Central Asia is Darius*.” I smiled as I said it, realizing these two brothers from Muslim backgrounds—one a refugee and one a new pastor in his home city—really are two of my closest friends.

Humanly speaking, we shouldn’t be friends at all. But the gospel has done something remarkable in us, such that we now love one another with a deep and happy loyalty. For this, I’m indebted to these brothers who’ve so often pursued the relationship. I’m also indebted to my parents who modeled a deep love and friendship for the local believers they served as missionaries in Melanesia. When I eventually became a missionary, I naturally followed in their footsteps.

Yet when it comes to missions, few speak explicitly about the centrality of friendship. Of course, we might have close friends back home, our own Andrew Fullers who hold the ropes for us. Or we might value the close fellowship and camaraderie of teammates on the field. But we seldom consider how affectionate friendships of equality with locals are one of the primary goals and rewards of a life spent proclaiming the gospel among the nations.

Friendship with God

One way to describe the missionary’s goal is to see others become friends with the eternal God and his Son, Jesus Christ. This is the vertical side of friendship in missions. We shouldn’t lose sight of the scandal of this invitation. How can it be that rebellious sinners, lifelong enemies of God, are welcomed into friendship with the holy God they’ve so long spurned? Yet this is the language of the Bible.

Abraham, the father of all who are saved by faith, is called a friend of God (James 2:23). Jesus was known as the friend of sinners (Matt. 11:19). He explicitly tells his disciples they’re no longer only servants but friends (John 15:13–15).

As a missionary, I have the privilege of seeing Central Asians befriended by God. That’s my goal. It’s also my reward.

Befriending Locals

In faithful cross-cultural ministry, we invite the nations into friendship with God. However, by virtue of their new relationship with Christ, they should also become friends with us. This is the horizontal side of friendship in missions; not only does God gain new and eternal friends but so do we. At least we will if we follow in the footsteps of Paul, whose ministry overflowed with affectionate friendship toward those who believed the gospel.

Paul didn’t only give the gospel to local believers; he shared his life with them (1 Thess. 2:8). He didn’t limit himself to ministry relationships or even task-focused partnerships. In addition to being their loving father in the faith, he became their devoted friend (Acts 24:23).

We see this friendship through Paul’s constant, thankful, joyful prayers for local believers. We see it in his unembarrassed professions of affection and longing to spend time with them (Phil. 1:3–4, 8; 1 Thess. 3:6, 10). Paul truly held these believers in his heart, delighting in them in person while also doing his best to stay in touch with them from a distance (Phil. 1:7; 4:21–22; 1 Cor. 16:7). He lived sacrificially for them and allowed them to care for his needs (Phil. 2:17; 4:16). He treated them as equals, calling them brothers. He was proud of them, calling them his crown (4:1). Paul and his friends even wept with and for one another (Acts 20:37).

Problem of Self-Protection

But we must be honest about something. When you talk to local believers in many missions contexts, they’ll tell you missionaries seem hesitant to enter into this kind of close friendship with them. Many try to keep a safer relational distance from locals.

Why is that? Maybe it’s because missionaries know they’re transient. This is perhaps an act of self-protection in a lifestyle given to so many costly goodbyes. Others may struggle to befriend locals out of confusion about what healthy boundaries are. Sadly, some may quietly despise the culture or even unconsciously look down on locals. Whatever the reason, missionaries should try to understand why they’re keeping locals at arm’s length—then repent.

As one of my pastors in Central Asia recently told me, the diversity of our friendships is meant to display the gospel’s beauty. Wealthy local friends should marvel that you also befriend the street cleaner. And your fellow countrymen back home should be surprised by the depth of your friendships with local believers whose backgrounds are so different from your own.

Worth the Risk

Missionaries may be effective in many aspects of their ministry with locals. They may have solid partnerships, even a level of trust. But that’s not the same as risking the vulnerability and equality that characterizes true spiritual friendship. It’s not the same as the shared delight that missionaries have with those from their own culture. And locals can tell the difference.

However, the most beloved (and hence effective) missionaries are genuine friends with the local believers. Yes, this will make missions more costly. Sin, betrayal, and abandonment will break your heart when you’ve entrusted it to local believers. I’ve gone through seasons when I dared not risk such friendships. Too many had left, had failed, had turned on us when we needed them most. Yet I’m so glad the Lord didn’t leave me in that place but gently brought my heart back to a posture of vulnerability—and I once again tasted the sweet rewards of affection.

Some of my fondest moments as a missionary have been when my Central Asian friends and I dream together about the new heavens and earth. We talk about how much we look forward to being there together with Jesus, telling stories, and sipping New Jerusalem chai. If our friendship now with one another and with Jesus is such a kind gift—such an undeserved reward—then just imagine what it’ll be like in the resurrection.

Go Make Friends

The Scottish missionary John Paton knew the costs and rewards of friendship on the mission field. He also anticipated the joys of those friendships perfected in glory. Recounting the death of his friend Chief Kowia, he writes,

Thus died a man who had been a cannibal Chief, but by the grace of God and the love of Jesus changed, transfigured into a character of light and beauty. I lost, in losing him, one of my best friends and most courageous helpers; but I knew that day, and I know now, that there is one soul at least from Tanna to sing the glories of Jesus in Heaven—and, oh, the rapture when I meet him there!

Friendship is one of the primary goals and richest rewards of missions. I’m convinced faithful missionaries should exhibit a posture of humility and vulnerability, pursuing affectionate and mutual love with local believers. Because we don’t go to the ends of the earth only to make disciples. We also go to make friends.

This post was originally published at The Gospel Coalition

If you would like to help us purchase a vehicle for our family as we serve in Central Asia (11k currently needed), you can reach out here.

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*Names Changed for Security

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Shall We Meet Up?

One advantage of being based in Louisville, KY, is that we are only a day’s drive away from 3/4 of those who live in the US. I heard once that this was one reason for the T4G conferences being held here.

I’ve been chewing on this fact of geography as we’ve been knee-deep in support raising to return to Central Asia this August. Currently, an amazing network of friends from different seasons of life and ministry has brought us to just under 50%.

But at this point, it doesn’t seem like we’re going to be able to make our goal with only our current network of relationships. This means we’ll need to find several dozen new partners who are open to partnering with us on a monthly or annual basis.

One way this could happen is if some of you, the readers of this blog, are willing to meet up face to face or via video call to explore partnership in both gospel and treasure. It’s one thing to know someone only through their pen name and their writing and stories that have to stay strategically vague for security reasons. But it’s another thing to know someone face to face and in the kinds of life and ministry details that can’t be published on the internet. This would also give me the chance to get to know many of you who have been so kind as to regularly read about my family’s work and many misadventures.

Yes, we’d have to vet you just a little bit to make sure you’re not some kind of Salafi on a mission to expose missionary bloggers. But once we established that you do indeed love Jesus and are not a misguided pharisaical short-pant wearer desperately in need of a patient Christian friend, then I could meet up with many of you who are based in the continental US. Think roughly between Oklahoma City and New York. Of course, when it comes to video calls, these can happen regardless of state or country. It’s as easy as figuring out the timezone differences.

The work we are going back to do is that of resource creation for the local church. We want to create and translate resources that are both robustly biblical and that also communicate deeply to the heart, mind, and culture of those from our region. We have the Bible now, the most important resource, but we don’t yet have Christian resources in our local languages about everyday topics like biblical parenting and giving to your local church. Nor do we have anything yet that helps Christians take on deeply ingrained evils like wife-beating, female circumcision, and honor killings. We want to research, translate, write, record, and distribute the kinds of resources that are going to build up the fledgling churches in our region – and equip the local believers, missionaries, and leaders who are fighting for every millimeter of growth in a very difficult place.

Want to be part of this work of stocking the spiritual arsenal of brothers I’ve written about like Darius*, Mr. Talent, and Alan? Want to help us find the metaphorical basement of the culture and get to shining some much-needed light down there? We’d love to have your help in this.

If this is something you (or your church) would be open to, send an email here and we can work to find a time to meet up.

I’m truly thankful for everyone who reads this blog, whether you’re able to partner with us financially or not. It’s been an honor to pass on stories and essays that dive into things like missions, wisdom, history, and resurrection. No writer or missionary can succeed without the backing of many, many friends. As they say in another part of Central Asia, “One flower doesn’t bring the spring.”

Finally, would you pray even as you read this post that God would provide the support we need to return this August? He is most certainly able to do this. For Him, it’s not an airplane at all.

Grateful for each of you,

A.W. Workman

*Names have been changed for security

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One Thing I Wish I Knew: Patience and Trusting the Lord

We’ve been so encouraged to be members of the Great Commission Council over the past couple years. The GCC is “a coalition of long-term missionaries from around the world who are dedicated to helping sending churches and mission agencies understand the greatest needs in modern missions.”

This year, a number of videos and statements that we’ve worked on together are beginning to be published. I’ll be periodically posting some of these short videos which will focus on topics such as what missionaries wish they knew before going to the field, important definitions, and missiology statements that we’ve been developing.

This video focuses on what one member of GCC wishes he knew before he went to the mission field. It fits well with something a brother at our church recently shared, that a biblical posture towards the lostness of the world should be “urgent, but not frantic.” As this video states, the longer someone is on the field the more they value relationships, knowing the language and culture, and the steadying truths of the sovereignty of God.

To support our family as we head back to the field, click here.

For my list of recommended books and travel gear, click here.

A Proverb on the Expansive Power of Language

The number of languages you know, the number of persons you are.
Local Oral Tradition

I learned this popular proverb early on when I was studying our Central Asian language. This saying presents the fascinating idea, common in the multilingual world of the Central Asia, that there is an expansive power inherent in language learning. According to our locals (and the neighboring people groups, who have an equivalent proverb in their languages also), there is some kind of astounding addition to your life that happens when you learn another language – an addition significant enough to grant you some kind of extra personhood.

Many years later I would find out that this proverb does not actually originate in Central Asia, but in medieval Europe. It was Charlemagne, Charles the Great, king of France and Emperor of much of western Europe who said, “To have a second language is to possess a second soul.” That’s quite the claim from Big Charlie, a king who was actually illiterate, though apparently gifted in speaking and understanding multiple languages. What was it that Charlemagne experienced that would cause him to make such an outlandish (and potentially heretical) claim? And how can you square this with the couple years of foreign language study you may have been forced to do in high school that made you feel not like you had gained an extra soul, but rather like you no longer had any soul left at all?

If you’ve never learned another language, or if your initial dabblings were as dry as saltine crackers baking on a North African sand dune, you’re going to have trust Charlemagne. You’re going to have to trust our Central Asian friends. You’re going to have to trust me. Or at least hear us out. Something expansive happens in your life, both inside you and around you, when you learn another language. And it makes all of the hard work absolutely worth it.

It’s not uncommon for polyglots, those who have learned many languages, to speak of having a different personality for each language that they speak. I only speak three languages, but I get what they are talking about. My parents are Americans, so I am a native American English speaker. But I was raised mostly in Melanesia, where I learned the Pidgin trade language as a toddler, and thus grew up bilingual. Then in college I spent a year volunteering in Central Asia, where I began to learn my third language. I would later return to the same region for seven years and eventually become an advanced speaker of that language. It’s a subtle thing, but yes, I think and I act differently depending on which language I’m operating in. I have, in some sense, gained a different side to myself, or rather found something that only that unique language and culture can draw out.

The author C.S. Lewis wrote something very similar in The Four Loves about the effect that different friends have on drawing out the unique facets of someone’s personhood, “In each of my friends there is something that only some other friend can fully bring out. By myself I am not large enough to call the whole man into activity; I want other lights than my own to show all his facets.” I would contend that languages have a similar effect on us. No one language is large enough to “call the whole man into activity.” Learning another language is like gaining another true friend, the kind who can bring you to life in unique, funny, and fascinating ways.

Have you ever considered that there may be facets to who you are that you can only discover by learning another language? No, not a second soul – but perhaps a part of your soul you’ve yet to become acquainted with.

To support our family as we head back to the field, click here.

For my list of recommended books and travel gear, click here.

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The No Man’s Land of Cross-Cultural Friendships

Sometimes, friends from another culture experiment with violating the norms of their culture around you. It’s as if your foreignness creates a little bubble where they can safely break certain cultural laws of behavior and decorum. This is usually all fine and well – but only if you know it’s happening. When you don’t know it’s happening or don’t see it coming, it gets downright confusing, as nobody knows which rules are still in effect.

Why is your local friend not fighting you when you offer to pay for their lunch? Arguing over the bill is the respectable thing to do. Is that male student making casual eye contact during conversation with your wife because he is being inappropriate, or because he finds it refreshing that foreign women will actually talk to him like his sisters will? Did that person really just accept your honorable yet hypothetical offer to buy them a very expensive plane ticket? How did they miss the cues of what is, after all, their culture, not yours?

Our local friends can see when we are doing our best to become acceptable outsiders in their culture. But because we can never fully become cultural insiders, they must meet us part-way, which means altering some of their behavior for our sakes. One principle of cross-cultural relationships is that whenever genuine relationship is present, cultural adaptation is always flowing both ways, whether this is recognized or not. We become like our friends, and it’s always been this way.

Sometimes, however, your friends jump at the chance to do things differently, and when they do that without explaining what’s going on, you can get caught quite flat-footed. Here, I am reminded of a local friend who came to stay with us one summer. Last-minute hosting for a night or two is very normal in the traditional culture of the area. But local wisdom says that guests are like fish – after three days they start to stink. This friend stayed for nine nights, and all indications were that he intended to keep staying. Exhausted, we eventually planned a trip out of town so that we had a mutually face-saving way to kick him out.

Another example of this happened right after our youngest was born. My wife had made the brave choice to give birth in-country, and the experience was, shall we say, mixed. Because the umbilical cord was around our son’s neck, the doctors decided a C-section was necessary. When administering the anesthesia into her spine, however, they poked too many holes in the spinal cord lining. This meant that a lot of my wife’s spinal cord fluid escaped, leaving her bedridden for a week and with a tremendous headache and pain whenever she viewed light, or tried to sit up or walk around.

The upside of giving birth in-country was the care we received from the believing foreigners and locals. Our fridge quickly ran out of space for all the food we were given, and many local friends came for the congratulatory post-birth visits, which typically last 15-20 minutes. Local culture is practical in this way, respecting the family by visiting, but also giving a nod to the fact that moms who have just given birth aren’t in much shape to host. In our case, my wife was bedridden in a darkened room and in no shape for even much conversation, so I did my best to serve chai and sweets to the guests, show off the newborn in between feedings and diaper changes, make conversation, corral our kids, toggle the house electricity as it came and went, and make regular trips back to the bedroom to see if my wife needed more pain meds. Not for the last time, I thought to myself how utterly practical the extended family model of living is, where these responsibilities would be spread out among various relatives, and not all fall on one parent.

Most of our friends gave their gifts, read the room, and after twenty minutes or so announced they had to be going, politely refusing my multiple offers for them to stay longer. One couple, however, got caught in the foggy no man’s land of cross-cultural relationships I have described above. When I protested their departure – “But it’s still so early!” – they looked at one another, smiled, and then sat back down. Oh no, I thought to myself, it’s happened again. The wires of our different cultures have crossed. Three hours later, they were still there.

When midnight came, I was utterly at a loss for how to communicate that it would be super helpful if they left. I really didn’t want to offend them. The husband was a new believer with a very sensitive and emotional personality. His wife, not yet a believer, was literally a sniper in the local armed forces. So, I just kept the chai and sunflower seeds flowing and became an expert in how my wife was supposed to eat a gnarly flour/sugar/oil paste that locals swear by for a post-birth recovery diet. After all the visits, we had ended up with a massive bowl of the stuff in our fridge.

Sometime after midnight, our guests stood up again and announced they really needed to be going. This time, I couldn’t bring myself to honorably protest. Instead, I squeaked out something open to interpretation like, “Wow, what a time we’ve had, eh?” and we proceeded to say goodbye dozens of times as we shuffled out the door, through the courtyard, and to the outer gate.

I went back inside and saw that there would still be about 20 minutes of electricity before it would shut off for the night.

“Are they gone?” my wife groaned when I went back to check on her.

“Yes, they just left,” I said.

“Wow, they are… sweet… but what happened? Why did they stay for four hours?”

I just shrugged, “I have no idea…”

“Hey,” I smiled, “want some of that yummy paste stuff?”

My wife made a gagging face, laughed, regretted laughing, and proceeded to settle down for a couple hours of sleep before our son’s next feeding.

If you have cross-cultural friendships, look out for the no man’s land, when because of contact with you, your friends begin unexpectedly experimenting with their own rules. When this happens, the normal rules go out the window – and you may find yourself very much in the fog.

To support our family as we head back to the field, click here.

For my list of recommended books and travel gear, click here.

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A Proverb On Proximity and Affections

The one before the eyes is the one upon the heart.
Local Oral Tradition

This Central Asian proverb speaks to the effect proximity and distance have upon our affections. We have a similar saying in English, though it focuses on the inverse of this idea – “Out of sight, out of mind.” As humans, we seem to be hard-wired to prioritize the relationships that are immediately in front of us, and we struggle to maintain those relationships that are long-distance. We quickly give resources to the needs that we are faced with, and have trouble feeling the weight of those needs that we don’t ourselves physically interact with.

A wise person will therefore do what they can to to be reminded of those important people and needs in ways their eyes can see and body can sense. This is particularly important for those who have grown up with a lot of transition and goodbyes, as missionary kids have. The temptation after a move is to cut off contact completely and to only focus on those relationships right in front of us. This is because continued contact reminds us of the distance and the change, and therefore the loss. But the seemingly easy way is not really the healthy way here. MKs and others like us need to learn to be present friends, even from a distance. I still have a long way to go on this front.

This is also why daily spiritual disciplines and corporate worship are also so crucial. We do not physically interact with Jesus in the ways his first disciples did. Instead, we interact with him by spirit, through faith, in the realm of the unseen. Our affections for him will fade and we will largely forget him if we do not have ways in which we are reminded regularly of his friendship for us. Hence Bible study which engages our eyes and hands, prayer which engages our lips and ears, and tangible reminders like the Lord’s Supper that engage our taste buds. In fact, Christians should be known as those whose deepest love is for the one not before our eyes, the one we can’t yet see and touch.

“Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and full of glory.” – 1st Peter 1:8

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Grant Me One Muslim Friend

“The most strategic thing we could do to reach the Muslim world is for every Muslim to simply have a believing friend.” As a nineteen-year-old, I remember hearing the missionary-statesman Greg Livingstone share this insight at a gathering in the Middle East. His point was that the vast majority of Muslims today are living and dying without ever hearing the gospel message and seeing it lived out in the life of a good friend. It wasn’t complicated, Greg encouraged us, so much could change by giving Muslims access to Christian friends who would genuinely love them and tell them about Jesus. The simplicity of this idea gave me courage. Having grown up among tribal animists in Melanesia, I might not be the most skilled in engaging Islam, but by the grace of God, I could be someone’s friend.

Being at the very beginning of my gap year in the middle east, my prayer became that God would grant me one Muslim friend who was open to Jesus. He answered, and gave me that friend in the person of Hama*, the jaded wedding musician with a British accent who would eventually come to faith after many misadventures together – including nearly getting blown up by a car bomb. In my friendship with Hama I learned that the relationally-intense culture of those from that part of the world meant that one close friend was truly all that was needed for full-time ministry. This is because a Middle Easterner or Central Asian almost never comes alone, but with their own large network of relatives and friends. One good friend serves as a gatekeeper to an entire community of those who will be open to getting to know you if you are hanging out with their boy, and who may also be open to getting to know Jesus.

The following year I found myself back in the US to finish up university. After a difficult semester at a Christian college in a very rural area, I transferred to a different school in Louisville, KY, in large part because I knew there was a community of refugees and immigrants from the Muslim world there. Once again, my prayer became, “God, grant me one Muslim friend.”

One day I learned about an international festival taking place at a community center in the part of the city where most refugees were being resettled. I hitched a ride with some other students, excited to see if I could make any helpful connections with the Muslim community.

At some point I found myself at the booth of a local library which offered ESL tutoring to new refugees. Somehow the librarian present found out that during my year in the Middle East I had become conversational in one of the region’s minority languages.

“We need you!” she exclaimed. “We have a newcomer, Asa*, who has almost no English. And he speaks the language you do. Please come and meet him this weekend!” Before I knew it, she had signed me up as a volunteer.

I was elated to hear that there was at least one person in my new city who spoke the same minority language that I’d been studying. Maybe Asa would be the friend that I had been praying for. It certainly seemed like a providential connection.

The next ESL session I showed up at the library and was introduced to the other volunteers. One older couple greeted me happily.

“We heard that you speak Asa’s language! That’s wonderful. So glad you’re here.”

“Thanks, I’m excited to be able to help.”

“We are in such need of volunteers, but we keep getting these dratted Baptists who try to worm their way in to proselytize, can you believe that?” said the husband, squinting his eyes and glancing around the room. “Keep an eye out. Well, have fun!”

This comment caught me off-guard, so I don’t know what happened to the color on this Baptist proselytizer’s face in that moment. But my mouth stayed shut.

Soon I was introduced to Asa, a single man in his late twenties. We hit it off immediately. Not only could we speak the same language, but Asa was from the very same city where I had spent most of my gap year. Before long, we were lost in that particular joy and relief that overtakes two speakers of a common languagge who unexpectedly run into each other in a foreign land.

I learned that Asa was not particularly profiting from this ESL group class (the librarian seemed to have a crush on him) and he earnestly asked me if the two of us could meet separately for English tutoring instead. Between his aversion to the class and the class’s aversion to Baptists, I thought this was a great idea. At the end of the tutoring time we exchanged numbers and proclaimed a barrage of respectful farewells to each other. We both left, mutually elated to have a new friend.

The next couple weeks were just like it would have been with a promising new friendship in the Middle East. Lots of calls, lots of hanging out, lots of chai, cutting up, and talking about all kinds of things. Middle Eastern and Central Asian men love to talk, and the particular Western masculinity that focuses on doing rather than talking is one of many factors that contributes to profound loneliness for most refugees from those regions. We had even begun to have our first spiritual conversations, and to my great excitement, Asa expressed interest in learning more.

This was it, I thought, this was God answering my prayers. Asa was going to be like another Hama for me. I was a busy Bible college student, I couldn’t do a lot. But I could be a good friend to a guy like Asa. I was so encouraged by God’s kindness in providing me with this friendship.

Two and a half weeks after we met, Asa called me.

“Hey A.W., I’m… moving to Boston!”

“Boston? That’s like seventeen hours from here. Why?”

“Well, a friend there said he could get me a job.”

“Oh.”

“Can you come by my apartment tomorrow to say goodbye?”

“Sure, I’ll be there.”

The next day I made my way across the city to Asa’s neighborhood, disappointed and feeling a bit misled by God. Things had seemed so providential, so perfect. Why was it turning out this way? Why must I so quickly lose a friend who seemed like he could become a brother?

I walked up the creaky wooden stairwell to Asa’s apartment and knocked on the door. Asa opened it and greeted me excitedly. He was packing, he said, and he invited me to come in and have some chai. In the tiny living room were two other refugee men, one tall and lanky, named Farhad*, and another short and energetic, named Reza*. As Asa packed his small bags, we began to converse in his dialect about his plans. Farhad and Reza turned to me with wide eyes.

“How is it that you can speak _____ ?” they asked. Turns out both of them were from other regional unreached people groups and were also conversational in Asa’s language. To see a skinny white boy speaking this language was one of strangest things they had seen in America so far.

Asa handed me a scarf as a farewell gift and insisted that I exchange numbers with Farhad and Reza. “A.W. is my true brother,” he said to his two other guests, in the honorable overstatement so typical of his people. I smiled, wondering how many cultures would extend brotherhood in this way so quickly. For my part, I sent Asa off with the last New Testament I still had in his language.

Asa left for Boston and I didn’t hear from him again for years. Farhad and Reza, on the other hand, started reaching out to me. Eventually, we started meeting up regularly to argue about politics, culture, and how so-and-so’s people group was related to that other guy’s people group. Sure enough, God opened the doors again for gospel conversation, and before long we had a Bible study going that would at its inaugural meeting run afoul of Al Mohler’s security.

We eventually lost Farhad when discussing Jesus’ call to love our enemies. “If Jesus requires me to love them, then I will never follow Jesus!” he raged during the last time he would ever study the Bible with us. Farhad’s people group had suffered genocide and centuries of oppression at the hands of the dominant people group of his country.

Reza, on the other hand, kept coming around. He became a dear friend. And he became a brother in the faith. What I thought God was doing through Asa, he had in store for me with Reza. One friend who was open to learning about Jesus. One friend who would in turn go on to share the gospel with his network, both Middle Eastern Muslims and Kentuckians.

God had answered my prayers in a way I hadn’t expected. It had first involved disappointment. But it had ended in kindness. As ultimately, it always will.

*Names changed for security

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A Proverb On True Friends

A good friend is in suffering revealed.
Local Oral Tradition

This Central Asian proverb speaks to what many in seasons of suffering have experienced – that suffering reveals who our truest friends really are. When the good times end and the trials have come, we find out who is still able to be a companion, even in the darkness. And who was there only for the proverbial melons. We have an equivalent English proverb that gets at the same idea: “a friend in need is a friend indeed.”

Very few people naturally know how to be a good friend in suffering. It seems to be something we must learn, often as we suffer and grieve ourselves and thereby grow in the unique wisdom of those who mourn. We also learn how to do this as we experience responses to our suffering that are not so helpful.

I am trying to learn to not pivot so quickly to the sovereignty of God in the midst of pain. I’ve learned there is a cheap way to turn to this glorious doctrine that can keep us from lamenting as we need to, whether for our own pain or for others. It can function as a deflecting mechanism of sorts because I am afraid of what will happen if I am truly open to the pain. I find it instructive that Jesus does not plainly tell Mary and Martha in John 11 what he is up to, that he allowed Lazarus to die because he is purposefully bringing about his resurrection from the dead. Instead, he hears their tortured questions, reminds them of who he is, and then weeps with them. It seems that even a death of a mere four days must be mourned before it is appropriate to start putting the pieces together. The faithful friendship of Jesus is revealed not only by his bringing Lazarus back from the dead, but also by his choosing to weep with his family first. “See how he loved him!” (John 11:36).

Many of us can grow in being better friends in suffering. Our own suffering will inevitably teach us how to do this. But we can also learn by listening well to those who are currently in seasons of grief and pain, or those who are reflecting on what they needed during their own dark season. Often, the desire to be a good friend is there. It’s a part of our new nature as believers to want to be this kind of friend for others. But we can often lack the practical know-how of how to actually weep with those who weep (Western culture is a terrible tutor when it comes to how to grieve). Our fear of saying the wrong thing can cause us to not send that note or make that call. When in doubt, we should take the risk and err on the side of extending comfort, imperfect though it may be – especially since so many agree that it’s not the words in the midst of suffering that mean the most, but our presence and mere willingness to enter into the sadness.

This Central Asian proverb echoes the eternal wisdom of God’s word also. Proverbs 17:17 – “A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.”

When adversity inevitably comes to those around us, may we be revealed to be good and true friends. And may God provide these kinds of friends for us in our suffering as well.

Photo by Josue Michel on Unsplash

A Proverb on Central Asian Friendship

The first day we are friends, the second day we are brothers.
Afghan Oral Tradition

This proverb comes from Afghanistan. I came upon it years ago in a book by Dr. Christy Wilson, and I’ve never forgotten it. It resonates with my own experiences with Central Asians, who have often stunned me with their sacrificial hospitality and friendship.

My family does not live in Afghanistan. But tonight, as the capital, Kabul, falls to the Taliban, we are grieving for what this will mean for the local believers there – indeed what is has already meant for them and for many faithful gospel workers who have invested so much in that land.

Regimes will fall. Evil may temporarily win. But true gospel friendship – and the friendship of Christ himself – will outlast all of it. And every ounce of suffering for Christ will count, will be remembered, and will result in an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.

On the other hand, every action taken by the Taliban against an Afghan believer is an action taken against a friend of God, a brother or sister of the Messiah himself. He sees it all. And sooner or later, his justice is coming.

Photo by The Chuqur Studio on Unsplash

A Song On Being Fully Known

You're in a place you think you know
Surrounded but you feel alone
You have a place to rest your head, but not a home

Feels like you lost yourself again
Sit in the silence of a friend
'Cause when you are fully known and loved, you have a home

The burden you choose to bear
That keeping yourself from those who care
Problems and pride play hide and seek, you're unaware

That all of the things you keep concealed
One day are bound to be revealed
We paint a picture of ourselves that isn't real

Feels like you lost yourself again
Sit in the silence of a friend
'Cause when you are fully known and loved, you have a home...

“Known and Loved” by Joel Ansett