I have a reputation for introducing people to a wildly eclectic playlist of outlandish songs—the kind that either become road trip anthems or make me the laughingstock of the whole car, depending on who controls the aux. Songs like “The Duck Song,” “Flamingo” by Kero Kero Bonito, or “Humpty Dumpty” by Gracie’s Corner have all earned their place in this strange canon of mine. But today, I’m inviting you to reflect with me on different lyrics altogether:
I have friends, I definitely have friends
-Crazy Ex-Girlfriend
No one can say that I do not have friends
These words, from the song “I Have Friends” by Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, have resonated with me more than they probably should and more than I care to admit. [1] They have become an ironic but oddly comforting refrain during the busiest periods of my life—when everything feels like it’s happening at once, and when I’ve failed to nurture my friendships. Like a beacon of light that turns out to be a mirage, these words offer a false sense of assurance. And so, the real question I have to ask myself is this: Am I showing up in my friendships in ways that strengthen not just my life, but theirs? Am I helping my friends grow, challenging and encouraging them, while allowing them to do the same for me? I’ve begun learning that friendships worth keeping are shaped—sometimes slowly, often with effort—through consistent presence and intentional care. The responsibility to nurture and sustain these relationships ultimately falls on me.
College has been the season of my life during which I struggled the most with the concept of stewardship, not just in friendships, but across multiple areas of my life. I would often find myself instinctively giving people space on the grounds that everyone is busy navigating their own lives. And yet, in giving them that space, I quite frequently understood, too late, that I had missed out on pivotal opportunities for connection, growth, and shared learning. Before realizing that college friendships weren’t the accidental byproduct of spatial proximity, every fiber of my being drove toward what I thought was self-preservation. I told myself that stepping back would protect me from the exhaustion of chasing perfectly reciprocal friendships. But over time, I awakened to the fact that this instinct—what I had mistaken for wisdom—was, in fact, a subtle form of isolation. Certain friendships, especially, have felt too high-maintenance, and in those moments, complacency seemed easier than effort and commitment. Passivity disguised itself as self-preservation. And yet, in those same moments of neglect, the lyrics from I Have Friends became a haunting echo, a reminder of the gap between the friendships I claimed to have and those I was actually nurturing.
In my case, my safety-seeking behavior turned out to be something much less positive. Self-preservation, often framed in biological and psychological terms as a survival mechanism designed to shield us from harm, had become a mask for withdrawal [2]. If anything, my passivity bred a growing retreat, particularly when it felt easier to settle into the traps of superficiality. I regularly exchanged empty invitations like “Let’s grab a meal together” or “We should definitely catch up soon,” all the while knowing that I was unlikely to disrupt the cycle of happenstance and follow through. Erica Young Reitz, in After College, highlights the ease with which people searching for authentic community may drift toward low-effort social engagement—what she refers to as the “happy hour” subculture. She writes, “It may be tempting to find our primary social connection in ways that do not require as much effort.” [3] Her point isn’t to critique socialization where moderate drinking is involved—that would be a misdirection to our discussion. Instead, the real question, as Reitz argues (and I wholeheartedly agree), is this: “If we are going to make friends, rather than waiting for them to come our way, we must get off the couch and go after relationships.” Intentionality is a must. Do we bank on others’ initiative after a half-hearted “Let’s get coffee sometime,” or do we take it upon ourselves to recognize that, left untended, relationships and the media through which they happen can slide from neglect to erosion and, ultimately, into complete indifference? Social gatherings (even those centered around casual drinking) aren’t inherently flawed; they can serve as meaningful touchpoints. However, when they become the primary vehicle for connection, replacing depth with routine, they risk lulling us into a sense of belonging that is, in truth, as fleeting as the night’s last round of drinks.
Do we bank on others’ initiative after a half-hearted “Let’s get coffee sometime,” or do we take it upon ourselves to recognize that, left untended, relationships and the media through which they happen can slide from neglect to erosion and, ultimately, into complete indifference?
Friendship is not merely a social convenience, nor is it a manifestation of shared spaces and circumstances. True friendship demands more than fleeting exchanges or shallow interactions. Rather, fostering relationships is a radical and intentional act of creation—a dynamic, vulnerable, patient, and often uncomfortable process that mirrors the divinity of creation itself. Just as a sculptor approaches a block of marble with a chisel, shaping it with patience, purpose, and grace, so too must we approach our relationships. One of the simplest yet most powerful tools we have is conversation. Words become the bridge through which deeper connections are built and sustained. Whether casual or profound, they carry the potential to strengthen trust and foster mutual growth. When our speech is “full of grace, seasoned with salt” [4], it becomes more than fleeting dialogue; and words, as vessels through which bonds may be conveyed, grow into instruments of edification carrying the heft of intentionality, encouragement, and care, and choosing to invest in the relationships we are called to cultivate. Christians believe that God, the ultimate Creator, set the precedent for this kind of intentional, beautiful, and enduring work. From the very beginning, He did not just create the world and leave it to its own devices; He continues to sustain it, holding all things together[5]. In the same way, I see friendship not as a one-time act but as an ongoing practice of stewardship. Yet, humanity often loses sight of this vision, leading to fractures and even sabotaged connections. And I? I am no exception. There have been moments when I have failed to uphold my role, letting relationships that deserved attention slip into erosion.
If Adam was entrusted and empowered to shepherd the earth [6], why did his mandate feel so unattainable—and why, then, did I, bearing far lesser responsibility, feel so incapable of stewarding the relationships God had placed in my life? The weight of that responsibility often felt overwhelming, and the temptation to detach became all too real. It’s a sobering thought: if friendship is meant to reflect the creative and sustaining nature of the ultimate Creator, then my lack of stewardship isn’t just neglect; it is disobedience. Scripture makes clear that stewardship is an expectation, not an option. Luke 16:10 reminds us, “Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much.” [7] When Christians fail to tend to their relationships, they fail in an area where God has explicitly called them to be responsible, not because friendships are contractual obligations, but because they are sacred trusts. This principle isn’t just about wealth or resources—it applies to the entirety of life. Left untended, relationships—like gardens—wither. Friendships watered only by shallow texts or perfunctory check-ins will eventually fade. Everywhere in life, stewardship is the measure of trustworthiness. A person who cuts corners in small matters—showing up late, canceling plans without care, leaving important words unsaid—reveals a pattern that extends beyond their social life. Neglect breeds neglect, and why should we expect to be handed deep, meaningful relationships if we fail to steward the ones we already have?
To truly reflect divine creativity, we must approach friendship not as a passive experience, but as a sacred work of art that requires steadfast stewardship. Just as a house lovingly maintained keeps dust at bay, seals cracks before they spread, and wards off decay, so too do cherished friendships deepen, resisting the pull of time that turns uncultivated relationships into nothing but relics. As a gardener labors over their crops, we are called to cultivate, sustain, and co-create friendships that mirror Christ-like love and attentiveness to ensure they thrive and endure. God furthered his mission of creating by demonstrating that all things hold cohere in him, and his very non-incidental act provides us with fundamental knowledge on how to approach interpersonal relationships, which, at their core, require continual care. When Jesus walked the earth, He lived out this divine relational model. He didn’t solely coexist with His disciples; He pursued, taught, and called them friends. “I have called you friends,” He said, “for everything that I learned from my Father, I have made known to you” [8]. This was no casual association. Jesus was deliberate in His relationships, investing time and even vulnerability in those He loved. His friendship with Peter, for example, was marked by sacrifices —Jesus easily could have abandoned Peter after his repeated denials, but instead He chose to mend and restore [9]. In doing so, He demonstrated that true friendship is not only about creation but also about restoration.
This brings me to the heart of creating and sustaining friendships: it is both an art and a discipline. Like any art form, friendship requires skill, patience, and a willingness to learn. But it also demands discipline—the commitment to show up and invest in others, despite the appearance of convenience (sometimes). Sustaining friendship means being willing to mend what’s broken, to build what’s fragile, and sometimes, to resurrect what seems lost. In the same way that careers demand diligence, health requires maintenance, and faith necessitates dedication, so too does friendship require intentional effort. Proverbs 18:24 reminds us, “A man who has friends must himself be friendly.” [10] Friendship is not a languid state of being; it is an active pursuit. It demands clear intention, consistent effort, and honest communication.
In reflecting on my friendships, I am challenging myself to approach them with the same intentionality and creativity that God demonstrates in His relationships. Am I willing to pay the price of vulnerability and discomfort for the sake of true connection? And perhaps most importantly, am I living out the principle of “iron sharpening iron” [11], allowing my friendships to refine me even as I seek to pour into others? As I’ve mentioned above, I have found myself guilty of letting friendships slip into neglect and of allowing the weight of busyness or complacency to become an excuse for distance. But if God, the Creator, sustains what He forms, then what excuse do I have to let something as sacred as friendship fall apart? If the Christian truly believes relationships are a reflection of Him, then sustaining them isn’t just an emotional or social responsibility; it is an act of worship. God did not create the world and leave it to fend for itself in the beginning: he nurtures, upholds, and remains actively engaged in what He has made. Friendship, in its truest form, mirrors this eternal creation as it is not a fleeting convenience but an ongoing stewardship, a commitment that calls for devotion, sacrifice, and perseverance. This is the burden placed upon us as Christians: to love in a way that reflects the divine, to emulate the relentless faithfulness of God in the way we show up for one another. We are not permitted to love passively. We are called to dwell in unity, pursue and protect it. “Behold, how good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell in unity,” says Psalm 133:1. [12]
Friendship, in its truest form, mirrors this eternal creation as it is not a fleeting convenience but an ongoing stewardship, a commitment that calls for devotion, sacrifice, and perseverance.
And what is unity if not an extension of love? [13] If God Himself is love, then our friendships should reflect that love—steadfast, patient, and life-giving. It is not a love that quivers when tested, but one that weathers difficulty; one that is not simply sentimental but sacrificial. Love, in its highest form, requires presence, grace, and the courage to choose others even when excuses feel easier. And beyond being a personal conviction, this love is a witness to the world when lived out in its fullness. The way we love, forgive, and remain present in each other’s lives speaks louder than any belief we profess. [14] People will see something different in how we show up—consistently, selflessly, and without condition. If we are to be known by our love, then friendship is not just something we have; it is proof that we have known a love greater than ourselves.
By Anseley Philippe, Contributor
Anseley Philippe hails from Port-au-Prince, Haiti. He is studying Psychology, engineering management and spanish. Weather permitting, he can often be spotted taking vesperal walks on campus.
References
- Quotation of “I Have Friends”
- Ike, Kevin G. O., Sietse F. de Boer, Bauke Buwalda, and Martien J. H. Kas. “Social Withdrawal: An Initially Adaptive Behavior That Becomes Maladaptive When Expressed Excessively.” Neuroscience & Biobehavioral Reviews 116 (September 1, 2020): 251–67. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.neubiorev.2020.06.030.
- Reitz, Erica Young. After College: Navigating Transitions, Relationships, and Faith. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2016.
- Colossians 4:6
- Colossians 1:17
- Genesis 2:15
- Luke 16:10
- John 15:15
- John 21:15-17
- Proverbs 18:24
- Proverbs 27:17
- Psalm 133:1
- “Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God.” (1 John 4:7)
- “By this, everyone will know that you are my disciples if you love one another.” (John 13:35)