The David and Jonathan Complex.

An introspective crash out on friendship.

Sometimes, I can sit back and be marveled by how The Lord is shaping me, even the parts of me I struggle with the most. One of those parts being friendship.

Ever since I was younger, I always wanted to matter to someone. Fortunately, I found that in the hearts of my siblings and my family. In some capacity, and for those who had them, I found that in their families too. But friendship and its pursuit, investing in it, and building and growing through it always meant a lot to me.

You might say these feelings came from the slight pang of neglect I felt somewhere along my journey through life. You might also say it came from a deep hope I once had in humanity. I wouldn’t hold it against you, because that might be true.

Call it whatever you want, but there was something about friendship that made me happy. The idea of showing up for someone and knowing they would show up for you was special. To have your people that you could text in the group chat through your highest highs and your lowest lows. To shoulder their burdens and be safe enough to share your burdens with them too, pray with them and do life, in its mess and in its beauty, honestly and together.

Who wouldn’t want that?

Some time ago last year, I did a personal Bible study of David and Jonathan’s friendship in 1 Samuel, because for a long time, a ton of friendship content was being pushed online, and I thought it wise to run to the Bible instead of said social media creators.

For those who may not be aware of who these two men were and why they were so important, a quick little summary: Jonathan was the crown prince, the son of a king. David was a shepherd boy, the son of a farmer. But the Bible uses such profound and intimate wording to describe such an unlikely bond: their hearts were one, and their souls were knit together. Pretty weighty yet pretty important words. They were deep followers of Christ too, which made their bond stronger, even until the point of death.

After studying such a story and such a history, I remember feeling two things very deeply: I remember feeling seen and optimistic.

Seen, because the depth of their friendship resonated with me. Scripture literally says their hearts were knit together. That’s not surface-level. The level of sacrifice, the selflessness, the unwavering commitment to one another. Brotherhood formed and was honored even until Jonathan was no more.

And optimistic, because I believed that somehow, someway, The Lord in His mercy would do the same for me, because it’s in His Word, and He is kind to bestow such blessings upon His Children.

Yet here I am speaking about this experience in the past tense.

Being a Christian has allowed me to have a certain level of rapport with The Lord that some might call insane, but I deem necessary. I function in the knowledge that someone created me for something. And just as you wouldn’t take a faulty iPhone to a Samsung store, I wouldn’t take my brokenness to men when I could take it to God.

Even grasping that and living it out was a challenge. Different story, different day.

So one day, during a long ride somewhere, I decided to do what I do best: jump into my mind and ask God some serious questions. A little context to said ride: I was on my way to meet someone I genuinely wanted to be friends with. We’d been talking for a while; I had admired their work online for a long time, and I grew to value them as a person. I wanted to build with them, support them, and invest in them because that’s just how I’m wired. I love to support. I love to show up for my people. In my mind, this was someone who might eventually become one of my closest friends.

Until they ghosted me. After I had already gotten to the location we’d agreed on weeks in advance.

Amidst confusion and deep anger, I remember praying and asking, “God, You gave me this big heart and made me as intentional as anyone possibly could. I keep having this exact same issue, and it’s making me look and feel really bad. Why do I keep falling into this pattern of wanting intimate friendships, reaching out to people, and being flat-out rejected?”

Then I heard a voice say, “It’s because there’s a wound in your heart that you’ve not allowed Me to heal.”

And then it hit me.

The neglect, the bullying in my younger years, the self-loathing, and the ultimate prospect of completely shutting off from society. They all came up and left a weird crater in my personality, which caused me to stop laughing the way I used to. I stopped wanting to hang out with people because I was always the weird, nerdy kid, and those kind of kids don’t roll with some kind of people. I began assuming people didn’t like me because I didn’t like me, and the effort started to dwindle.

Slowly, and sadly, trust issues took root.

As much as it mattered to me, friendships have always been hard. Along the way, I’ve been blessed to experience it in some capacity, whether within a friend group or with individuals I genuinely wanted to do life with. And I commit, God knows I commit, because again, nothing makes me happier than sharing what I have and supporting as much as I can, and that is to my own detriment. At some point, there was hope. At some point, it was fun to want that.

But interference, unhealthy thought patterns, and shifts in behavior crept in. And before you realize it, you suddenly become too tired to keep on hoping. Not to mention that it is already an ordeal to make friends as an adult, unless it’s in the same office space or I’m seeing and studying you often.

Sometimes the people I believed were for me would switch up and leave. Other times my own mind would spiral into doubt and suspicion, affecting the way I showed up for them.

I guess the blame deserves to be shared. If I’m being honest, some friendships failed because those people simply weren’t meant for me. But some also failed because I was too broken to truly try.

At some point, and I’m not afraid to admit this, there was a modicum of idolatry involved. Wanting people to do life with started to matter more than life itself. And that became a problem for me and the few people on the receiving end of such erratic behavior.

To those few people who noticed that earlier on: I’m truly, truly sorry.

I’ve tried though. God knows I’ve tried.

In all honesty, holding on to hope for friendship was exciting in the beginning. But the heart grows weary over time. People start to people in ways only people can. Experiences, comments, thought processes, motives, and emotions start to shape how you see things. Walls begin to build. Motives get side-eyed. Hope starts to feel unrealistic.

At some point during adulthood, I found myself too defeated to even try making friends anymore. And again, making friends as an adult is already difficult enough. Add being naturally reserved and introverted into the mix, and it becomes a recipe for isolation.

But it hasn’t always been that way.

Sometimes I still feel bursts of energy to socialize. Moments where I want to meet new people, invest deeply, and build friendships that span generations.

But those bursts fade just as quickly as they arrive, because the receiving party is either uninterested, or I’m being too upfront or too invested, they refuse to commit, or when they do commit, they become a leech, seeing some level of benefit from me and choosing to see me as that exclusively, not a person.

And when you keep trying and things keep failing, you develop a unique numbness toward the idea of friendship. And that’s been where I’ve been for a hot minute. Being “content” solely at face value.

Even in my contentment, there is suffering.

I tell myself I’m fine not being the David to someone’s Jonathan or vice versa. I keep looking at that specific side of The Bible like it’s the one area God doesn’t have interest in for me, because I’m too complex to have that. I’ve been hopeful. I’ve been sacrificial. I’ve been accommodating of a lot. I mean, a lot!

Yet here I am. Tired of trying.

But you want to know the part of the story I really don’t like, but I have to accept anyway?

Just because I may feel content and worn out from believing The Lord for friendship doesn’t mean He is.

Slowly, and in ways I didn’t expect (or prefer), I’ve felt Him softening my heart again in this area. It’s uncomfortable holding on to hope for friendship in a world where people can often be self-centered and egotistical, but in God’s strangely beautiful way, that’s exactly where He’s stretching me the most. And trust me when I say, it is gut wrenchingly uncomfortable.

The truth is that friendships may always be a struggle for me. But in order to have a solid friendship, I’ve discovered that I first have to be a solid friend.

To me. To the few people who chose to stay. And most importantly, to The Lord.

Prioritizing friendship with Jesus has been the most intimate experience of my life. He knows me a little too well, and yet He has been nothing but loving and patient with me through it all.

Through Him, I’m learning what friendship truly means.

To keep choosing one another. To keep rooting for one another. To keep showing up even when seasons are rough. To keep remaining loyal even when it’s inconvenient. To keep giving, to keep being open. All things I have to prioritize with The Lord primarily.

It sounds impossible sometimes. But we serve a God who has a track record of shattering the impossible.

So where do I stand now when it comes to friendship?

Honestly, I’m okay. Teetering towards being nonplussed and just plain over it as the years roll on by, because again, people be people-ing, but it is what it is. Some people have come and gone; some of it is my fault, and some of it is theirs. But I feel so strongly that God would not allow me to be bitter and hopeless about it anymore, try as I might.

I’ve come to realize that Jesus literally loved difficult people, even to the point of death, and so it only makes sense that He would not allow me to be cold and heartless because people are difficult. It’s not all that bad, though. There are still people I feel drawn to connect with. But as much as I still need to process, I choose to temper my expectations and trust God that my people are out there somewhere. That there is a community waiting to grow alongside me.

And I just have to remain diligent and strong enough to keep believing Him for that.

So if you’re reading this, guy or girl, and you’re struggling with friendship and the pursuit of deeper relationships for one reason or another, I want you to know that you’re not alone in the slightest. It can be daunting, and it’s a massive ordeal putting in effort to grow with others and having it all come crashing down for one reason or another.

People these days are almost like a box of Bean Boozled flavors, and this is for my people who keep hoping to get the sweet peach, toasted marshmallow or Tutti- Frutti jellybeans but keep getting…… well, rotten eggs, stink bugs and barf.

Maybe you, just like me, have grown weary. Maybe the actions of others have made you decide that it’s okay to stay with yourself and the few people brave enough to stick around. Maybe you feel like you’re too much or just not enough and that it’s strange for you to want such a thing.

But I’ll leave you with this:

To have a strong friendship, you must be a strong friend. Loyal. Patient. Devoted.

It will hurt, you will feel inconvenienced, and you might lose hope in humanity. You are going to love people dearly and hold them in the highest of esteem, and things might change. The friendship breakups will come, and they will sting.

But keep your head up, Child of God. If solid relationships are present in God’s Word, there is absolutely no reason it should be absent in your life. You are more than deserving of people to bare your soul to and who are eager to do life with you, not because of what you can offer them, but because it’s in the Will of God for you.

Friendship is one of the greatest blessings we’ve been given on this earth. Wanting it isn’t weird. It isn’t embarrassing. It’s honest. It’s human.

Bring that longing to the feet of Christ.

Because He truly is a friend that sticks closer than a brother.

And learning to live honestly before Him — expressing our brokenness and trusting Him to work through it all — is what earnest living looks like.