Letting Her Go

Letting Her Go

Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand.

The story tumbled out over sandwiches and coffee: a friend close enough to be a sister, the maid of honor in her wedding, and now . . . nothing. Facebook friends with no interaction, lives once closely intertwined now lived separately. I heard sorrow, regret, and quiet bewilderment in her voice, even all these years later.

She has reached across the chasm dividing them on more than one occasion over the years, and her friend runs hot and cold, wanting to rekindle their friendship one moment before disappearing for several more years.

The silence stretched between recounted stories of the closeness they once shared. Then she quietly confessed, “God asked me what my life would be like with her friendship in it.”

My eyes widened slightly at the unexpected statement. “What would it be like?” I whispered.

“Chaotic.” A long beat of silence followed her reply.

I leaned in slightly with the next question: “Can you handle chaotic right now?”

“No.”

We sat in contemplative silence. She is a professor, a mom of tweens, a woman in ministry, a wife to a man in ministry. Her life is full of juggling people and obligations, and she is working hard to keep all the balls in the air and all of her loved ones on track. Her emotional load is currently full, and a complicated, chaotic friendship right now would likely put her over her emotional weight limit.

Sometimes, we have to let someone go. Sometimes, someone lets go of us. God is big enough to hold our grief, our anger, our utter confusion over complicated, messy, hard friendships. He is safe to wrestle with, to shake a fist at, to hold us during seasons of lament. When we take our hard things to him in prayer, we are promised peace in his presence, regardless of the storm swirling around us.

— Julie

— Today’s Act of Friendship —

Take time to turn to God about hurts from past friendships. Pray for healing, for peace, for a quiet revelation of how you might have hurt another.