FRIENDS FOR THE JOURNEY

I have several file folders in my house that are full of letters that I’ve received over the years.  I keep them because they are from people whom I know love me, and the things that they write matter to me.  I get letters all the time from various people, but it generally takes several years for any of them to make it in to a file folder.  The reason is that the sentiments of those letters have to be proven, and that usually takes quite a long time.  Lots of cards have lots of lovely sounding words in them – like “I care” or “God bless you” or “I’m here for you to help you when you need it.”  And although many of those letters are not dishonest, many express, well, kind of a superficiality, intentions that are only skin deep – or at least they’ve never been proven to me.  They don’t find their way into my file folder until they have been tested, and if you will, marinated. And you just can’t rush that process.  I’ve come to trust the love of those writers whose letters are in the folders; the rest of them will just have to wait.  The goal, here, is not to spend my life being suspicious or skeptical, but it is to be prudent and wise.  A metaphor that Jesus uses for discipleship in today’s Gospel of Luke is a fairly good one; he speaks of grapes and trees.  In both cases the growers profess to care about the well-being of their crop, but in both cases it takes a long time before the truth or falsehood of that claim is proven.  By mid-season it starts to become apparent whether the plants have been well cared for or not, and by that time if the answer is no, it may be just a little too late to get in to the game.  It may be that the owners of bad crops began with the best of intentions, but in the end they either belied their words by not really working day-to-day, especially when it became difficult or demanding; or maybe they just didn’t know how to.  The same can be said of any real friendship.  That’s why words of promise can never be enough – at least not for a long time.  They matter, but they have to mean something more than shallow promises.  And how can we know which is which without walking the walk?

How many times in the Gospels did Jesus pose the question to his followers, “Are you sure you want to do this with me?  Are you able to come along?”  And how often did they answer with an enthusiastic “Yes,” and how often did they fail?  It’s the same way that all of us cultivate friendships and commitments; we test them, and then it becomes clear whose words can be trusted, on whom we can rely when we really need them.  Those words go in to the public folder, if you will.  I wonder if Jesus kept a list, at least in his mind, of just who exactly could be a trusted and true friend.  I wonder if maybe he still does that.  Many people profess to care, but only some of them actually do.  When some people speak, as Jesus says today, the words come from what he calls the “fullness of the heart,” from a life time of cultivated virtues, especially the virtue of loyalty.  For others, the very same words can come from a vacant or even an evil heart.  Our task is to become wise by coming to recognize which is which, and clinging well to those words that actually mean what they say.  This is really a very practical thing; one doesn’t need God’s grace in order to discern that sort of thing.  One needs only to be paying attention. 

So as we enter into this new season of Lent in the coming week, let us be ready to do exactly that; discern well, surround ourselves with companions who are wise and caring, cherish what is good, remove the brambles and other things that are bad, and learn to speak with integrity.  From wherever the fullness of our heart is, Jesus says, the mouth will bear witness.