The Proactive Friend

I think the West has gotten really good at making selfishness sound reasonable. I'm pretty good at it too.

My time. My goals. My comfort. My future. We build a whole life around what’s best for me, and somewhere along the way, the people we love become things we’ll get to when we have more time. After this project. After this busy season. Once life settles down a little. If they really need me.

And then we wonder why we feel alone. Because eventually the script flips. We're now the ones sinking. We're the ones overwhelmed and alone. And we wonder where our "friends" are. Then you climb out of the hole you were in, and the cycle continues. From month to month you're just switching which side of the net you're on.

Let’s be honest. Most of us would say our friends matter more than whatever’s on our calendar this week. But would our friends know that? Do they actually get any of our time? Or do they get a "we need to catch up!" text? When I actually looked at it, a lot of the people I called friends were really my network.

As a society, we were much better "friends" when we were kids. We were in the know of each other's lives. We went out and did stuff together frequently. We were vulnerable. Affectionate... consistent. I don’t think we made some big decision to stop caring. We just kept choosing what’s convenient as we grew up and our lives got busier.

Brian Chesky, the co-founder of Airbnb, told a story about talking to Barack Obama. He’d gotten out of a relationship, felt lonely, and thought he needed another one. Obama was like "nah, what you need is friends."

Brian was defensive at first. As one would be. His first thought was probably to list out all the big group chats he's in, the dinners from last month, etc. But Obama described how he has a really small group that knows everything that is going on, many from before he was president. Brian then thought about his friends and how if he called them right now the first thing they'd probably say is "what's going on? So what's new with you?" and if you have to explain that to somebody, you're not really connected.

“People you’re connected to are already up to speed.”

That’s how Brian put it. And there's something there. How many of your friends, if you're being honest, stay surface-level? You can love someone, have years of history together, and still know almost nothing about the life they’re living right now. You know who they were in college. Do you know what’s keeping them up at night this week? Do you know what they nerd out to when they get extra time? Do you know how work is going, their marriage, their fantasy football team, their go-to restaurant? When was the last time the two of you just burst out laughing together? When was the last time the two of you shared something deep, and vulnerable?

That kind of closeness takes consistency. Being involved. Having enough ordinary life together that every conversation doesn’t have to start with a recap. Their kids know you. You know how work’s going. When something good happens, you know. When things get hard, you know about that, too.

It got me thinking... a true friend is proactive. They reach out. They find time. They care enough about what’s happening in your life to stay in it. Brian makes this point in the interview, too: we have people we love, but everybody’s waiting for somebody else to take the initiative. Instead, what happens is we pull out our stupid phone and open up social media instead of iMessage.

Somebody has to go first. And keep going first without keeping score. Be that person!

See, being a good friend is wildly inconvenient. Think about it. It’s going to cost you a night you had plans for. A good night's sleep. A two-hour drive. An early morning. Stress from their life that your personal plate probably doesn't have room for. More kids to watch. More money to spend. You’ll have to open up about your own life, which is sometimes harder than helping with somebody else’s. Their trouble becomes your trouble a little bit. And in a culture where everything is supposed to serve my life... most of us would rather not.

I think we’ve gotten so attached to "independence" that we’ve forgotten how good it is to be in deep relationships. We are meant for community. We used to have the saying "it takes a village" but look around, where is your village? And whose village are you a part of? When was the last time you showed up in it?

I know how much this matters because I’ve been on the other side of it. There was a long stretch where I felt alone. On the outside doing great. But the inside... the inside wasn't great. I had a lot of people I could call. And sure, they would talk. But they didn't know me. I came out of it with a decision. One that my wife Madee and I bring up regularly: We're going to show up for our people. We quite literally will tell each other "yeah, I get that's inconvenient, but we're proactive friends." And it's changed our lives. I think in part because we're all craving this. We're all craving that childhood-like friendship with laughs and being in the know with each other. And us going first opened that door. We still miss the mark plenty of times. Some weeks we're the ones sending the "we need to catch up" text.

I'll end with a quick pro-tip on being a proactive friend. No more “let me know if you need anything.” I've said it a hundred times, and I meant it every time. But that phrase has lost all its meaning. Think about it. Have you ever cashed in on that offer? I bet not. Because you're already overwhelmed and now you have to figure out what you need, work up the nerve to ask (a pride hit in today's world), and hope they actually have the time. And God forbid they say no. Now you took the pride hit and feel alone. "Let me know if you need anything" leaves all the work with you.

A friend who’s involved can see something to do and just offers. They're proactive. They take the thinking off your plate. "Hey, we’re heading to the park from two to four today. Can we swing by and grab Carter?” There. Now it's just a "yeah, for sure!" from you. Pride intact. An afternoon to breathe. And nobody had to announce that they were falling. There’s kindness in letting someone receive help that easily. But again, it's inconvenient to do the thinking and offer that. Being a good friend is.

That’s the kind of community I want to be part of. People who are close enough to notice, and willing to let it cost them something. I think that’s what God intended.

Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.

Carry each other’s burdens. Think about what that asks of us. You have to be close enough to know what someone’s carrying, and willing to put down some of your own plans to help carry it. That’s going to interrupt your life. Of course it is. You’ve made room for another person in it.

When the people I love look around for who they can count on, I want them to see me. Every time. Already involved. Already up to speed. Already there.