Wounded By a Friend

The blow didn’t draw blood, but it struck deeply. A fellow Christian and good friend of more than a decade hurt me. Though overt, she never acknowledged her wrongdoing or the grief it caused. I knew our friendship wasn’t perfect, but I came to a crossroads. Having withstood other bumps and bruises over the years, I resolved to assess our relationship’s true health. 

My friend’s behavior caught me off guard, but I wasn’t shocked. She was outgoing, fun, and struggled to follow through. A lover of routine, pensive in nature, and a sensitive person, I was ever drawn to her liveliness. Despite our differences, our long history of coffee dates, weekend getaways, and birthday celebrations led to the significant relationship we shared.

Now sizing up our friendship, I acknowledged that my interest in regularly nurturing our connection markedly exceeded my friend’s. Text messages and dinner dates were disproportionately initiated by me, something I historically accepted or chose to ignore. Aware of the imbalance, I had sometimes questioned whether our unequal investment was necessarily unhealthy, but the answer became clear upon our last interaction.

A week post-injury, I tossed and turned in bed. Sensing my restlessness, my husband asked, “What are you thinking about?” He knew what transpired with my friend, so I expressed my continued state of mourning. My thoughts vacillated between the offense and the wound itself. Rehearsing the wrongdoing was futile, but I couldn’t seem to stop. Dozing off, I begged God to bring my obsessive thinking to an end. 

Quicker than I anticipated, God eased my pain and made me a receptacle of His aid. More empowered and less a victim, I moved forward at His urgings. Foremost, God prompted me to write a letter—to myself. Years before, I had tried writing a note to my friend after a separate difficulty left my heart troubled. The letter (imperfect despite being the third draft) delivered my concern in a forthright yet loving way, but the resolution I desired never came. 

Nursing my new wound, I wrote “Dear Renee,” at the top of a blank piece of paper. The paragraphs that followed did not disparage my friend. Mostly, I asked myself whether I wanted to invite history to repeat itself—again. Resolving to read it before initiating communication with my friend in the future in an effort to better guard my heart, I placed the envelope in my dresser drawer.

Next, I meditated on several nuggets God impressed on my heart:

1.  Grieve well.

There is productive and unproductive grief. Unproductive grief never advances beyond the hurt. While the friendship wasn’t over per se, I did need to grieve my inflated estimation of it. The Grief Recovery Handbook provided tools to process the loss constructively.

2.  Invest wisely.

God did not design relationships to be quid pro quo (e.g. Matt. 22:1-14 and Luke 14:15-24). However, wisdom discerns whether relational imbalance is healthy. When unhealthy interactions undermine authenticity, adjustments are warranted. Fostering peace is imperative (Rom. 12:18) and is possible even while increasing relational distance.

3.  Self-examine.

Burdened that I was part of a “troubled” relationship, I wondered what was wrong with me. God challenged me to examine my other friendships. Drama and hurt were virtually absent from all of them and this observation helped nullify misplaced blame. I wasn’t a “bad” friend. Boiled down, my friend and I brought unique personality traits and sin to our relationship that didn’t meld well. 

4.  Seek wise counsel.

In confidence, I described the situation to my therapist friend. An objective observer, she asked me to consider whether my friend may have preferred to reap less from our friendship even as I was busy fertilizing it. If that were true, how could her preference be communicated? My therapist friend questioned: What would such a conversation sound like? And how awkward would that be? 

5.  Assess the loss.

As pain lessened, my objectivity increased. Being honest with myself, I was grieving what I wanted the friendship to be more than the closeness we truly shared. I also realized my grief should match the depth of loss. While the loss felt sizeable, God reminded me how rarely we meet a friend who “sticks closer than a brother (Prov. 18:24).” 

6.  Cherish providence.

Lazarus died because Jesus hesitated before going to Judea (John 11:6, 21). Because Lazarus died and was raised, the truth of Christ’s identity was revealed. Similarly, God could have spared my wound. To incur the blow, I had to be at an exact place and moment in time—which I was. By allowing the injury, God let me see the truth about my friendship (a reality I may not have otherwise discerned). 

7.  Maintain perspective.

Days after the hurt, still sad about my friend, I received an urgent message from a dear (and different) friend that her marriage had imploded. Though valid, my personal grief should not render me unavailable to others in crisis.

8.  Look holistically.

Viewing my friend’s actions as flagrant, I began to question the legitimacy of our entire friendship. While I had overestimated our relationship, our friendship as a whole was not a “lie.” 

9.  Be comforted.

Leaning into God, I treated myself with kindness. I bought a bouquet of flowers, receiving them from God. I ate some favorite foods and scheduled dates with friends I cherished, all of which encouraged my heart.

10.  Value company.

After confiding in a friend or two about the situation, they responded by sharing similar experiences. I felt comforted hearing that a measure of “unrequited love” in friendships was commonplace.

11.  Respond wisely.

The wound warranted action, but not a burning of the bridge. If my friend contacted me, I could be amiable without being avoidant. Meanwhile, I could surrender the habit of initiating contact (at least for a season). Gaining this skill was more prudent than terminating a friendship.

12.  Denounce shame.

Realizing how much I overestimated my friendship, I felt embarrassed. God reminded me that I consistently promoted love and peace in the relationship. Shame wasn’t warranted. 

13.  Anticipate reprieve.

Out for a walk in the aftermath, rain descended on me that wasn’t in the forecast. Three people stopped to offer me a ride. Though my current grief wasn’t something I anticipated, God reminded me that He would bring unexpected blessings from it.

14.  Look up.

Wounded, I looked for an apology—but seeking God was most important. Listening to worship music helped. God would ultimately wipe away every tear—and the sin that caused it (Rev. 21:4).

15.  Do good.

The Lord says, “whoever refreshes others will be refreshed” (Prov. 11:25b). In my pain, I was tempted to retreat inward. God prompted me to be mindful of others. As the lifter of my head, He was able to love me perfectly and faithfully (Ps. 3:3, Rom. 8:31–9). 

16.  See opportunity.

My mind naturally meditated on what was lost. Text message banter and double dates would undoubtedly fizzle. God urged me to adjust my focus. The care and energy I had given to my friend could be extended to others—new individuals whom God would reveal. 

God brought good out of my grief. Choosing constructive actions fostered a healing heart and healthier relationship with my friend.