2024-01-17 A Meditation on One Friend

“16 But thanks be to God, who put into the heart of Titus the same earnest care I have for you. 17 For he not only accepted our appeal, but being himself very earnest he is going to you of his own accord. 18 With him we are sending the brother who is famous among all the churches for his preaching of the gospel. 19 And not only that, but he has been appointed by the churches to travel with us as we carry out this act of grace that is being ministered by us, for the glory of the Lord himself and to show our good will. 20 We take this course so that no one should blame us about this generous gift that is being administered by us, 21 for we aim at what is honorable not only in the Lord’s sight but also in the sight of man. 22 And with them we are sending our brother whom we have often tested and found earnest in many matters, but who is now more earnest than ever because of his great confidence in you. 23 As for Titus, he is my partner and fellow worker for your benefit. And as for our brothers, they are messengers of the churches, the glory of Christ. 24 So give proof before the churches of your love and of our boasting about you to these men.” (2 Co 8:16-24 ESV)

One life. We are a people of blanket assurance. Simply to have a friend, for this reason we think fondly and endeavor the better to understand each other. For, what are the signposts of friendship? Are they not absolute fond adoration even despite any sins against each other, even despite any awkward moments or angular, jaded quirks. Delving into each other’s lives, we have the courage to be Gospel: with apologies for not speaking in boldface, all caps, Christ is Raised, we His people are Invigorated, Purchased for a Price, Injected with timely energy and boisterous life together: we buck and neigh around that decided Resurrection Scene.

Back to the blanket assurance: as though on a Divine Chessboard, friends and allies warm the hearth where there has been solemn Recognition: this person, aren’t they a bit allied with me? Aren’t they a bit of a chip off the old block? Aren’t we loving, and in any case this day, forgiving, if there be any slight. No, somehow the miasma and enveloping Love is making sin scarce, obstruction rare, concessions unasked-for. We can enjoy that solemn single glass of white, of the vintage and the vineyard. That glass of red or burgundy, these things in class and in simple sense of our hallowed and secreted-away abode hastily established by our mutual consciences. We are stunned with laughter and apologies for any confused depiction of this our Alternate, our Body Double, our Equal Yin-and-Yang Other, in terms of her or his Supreme Comandante. No, remember the hallowed times. Remember the notch and vein of existence Together. In the end, would that all earth, all humanity, did love each other like we once upon a time loved.

For the passionate man or woman is just as bequeathed or earned or delivered unto a Peace and Servant-Mandate by the love of their mother or father around dinner table or morning haste. It is a simple call This Day to remember those whom we have loved, and the more willingly to go to the front lines of war. Because all our past lives are somehow a crystal ball or a humored delight to recollect, as the phenomenon called Individuality, Individual prognosis, exploration, dutiful airing out of all our former passions and question marks. We erred, but amidst the error was something sincere. We could have been more emphatic around righteousness and holy walks, but Today already underway is a Project therein to Forgive what is askance, to take a breather and meditate on what has taken time and moral compass to review and revise. If only… if only more circumspect, if only more concerned not to stain the inheritance, carelessly to bandy about in absent rhythms or dancehall passions things better kept to a fasted and quieted and cautiously removed soul.

If only it were so, yet the soul was nourished in the strange climes and recollections. The soul was upbuilt amidst a sadder time in life, long walks solo into the night asking who, if anyone, is our partner, asking rather simply for a peace that has been elusive. Something was lacking. Call us egotistical thus to walk into the lonesome night only thinking about our own tears; yet forged bonds of friendship were formed out of that peering into the long night unpossessive, unafraid, holding nothing back, you and I, and our strange habits and longings healed, making do in a strange dance which it turns out is all we remember of the times, all careerism and forlorn cynicism forgiven. Life has something more, another chapter, and it calls for us, all of us.

Peaceful chess game, because we love the person or the literature or the color it brings to the table. And our service one devoted to those exclusive memories that, somehow we are wrongly persuaded, are ours alone: no, all have such Touch with reality, such Evocation of the uncluttered spare room in which the head trip of two souls setting down a Question and a Project, to answer life’s questions sober and mentalist, we shall do this as two friends in the numerous hours lying ahead. Man on man, man to woman, vice versa, God makes no judgment.

The soldier therefore has moved on and cherished those former times, having decided—for it is our own self-assessment that shall most of all be our judge (Ro 2:15)—to walk boldly into the season of night, all times and seasons fitting and appropriate, in cadence, in tempo, ready only when we were ready, even if it is always too soon. We serve, and on that note do not begrudge each other their reasons for delaying (Deut 24:5) but think with solemn peace yet tears, on the Cost Divine of each and every faltering sin in seasons past. Mettle tested, sadder concessions past, and are we any stronger this day than in previous days? All things can be written down as so much pride and self-serving ambition, yet also comes the break in one’s voice, the sadness, the desire our neighbors to heal, or to honor, or simply to have heard in their direction a Good Word by way of our fluttering alive spirit and cadence and tempo. Hear me, before I lose sight of that self-image called Good Man, called Good Woman. Hear me, for I am no courageous fighter but a worried and insecure presence at times. Today, our brandishing of spiritual weapons coincides with a strengthening of Personal Prerogative: our courage is soup-to-nuts, comprehensive, and self-edifying. If it edifies ourselves, it edifies those near us all the more. Yet all this in mystery and strangely quiet Progress, Discernment, Love.