This time of year can be challenging.  The holidays can be a time of remembering fractures in relationships.  They can be a time of aching for wholeness within our family.  We are thankful for what we have yet also mindful of what or who is missing.

Over the past couple of years, God has reminded me over and over again, that while He is my heavenly Father, He is first and foremost my friend.  And in seasons where familial brokenness is heightened, the reality that God is my friend brings a lot of hope and healing to my heart.  

The reality is, on my own faith journey, it has been my friends who pointed me to Jesus the most.  Friends who came onto my path at just the right time.  

As a parent, this reality of God as our friend brings freedom and hope to my own heart.  It brings freedom and hope to know that my son's faith doesn't hinge on just me or my husband.  Are we responsible to do and say and love in a way that reflects God's love?  Absolutely, but more than likely, we will have very little to do with the trajectory of our child's faith.  Instead, his faith will likely be molded and shaped most by those God puts on his path.

I wrote the following piece a year ago, for a small gathering of women, friends, who gathered in my home to celebrate the birth of my soon to arrive son, Isaac.  No biological family was present, just friends.  It was my attempt to say "thank you" for their friendship, their encouragement, their random acts of kindness...it was an attempt to say "thank you" for being the hands and feet of the Lord at a time when I didn't have the strength to stand.  I reencountered God's love because of their friendships.  And today, I remember and am incredibly grateful to get to call God, not just "Father", but also "friend".

—————-

There’s a beautiful story about friendship and faith told in the gospels of Luke and Mark.

The story centers around a paralyzed man and his four friends.  

These friends heard Jesus was performing miracles close by to where they lived and they knew if their paralyzed friend ever had a shot at getting healed, this was it; they had to get him in front of Jesus.

There aren’t many details mentioned about this paralyzed man.  We don’t know how or what happened to him.  All we know is life left him in a place of dependance on others.  He could not walk.  He could not stand.  All he could do was sit and be carried from place to place.

You would think if anyone in this man’s life wanted him to be healed, outside of his own healing wishes, it would be his family:  his mom, his dad, his brothers, or sisters, that’s who you would assume would move mountains to get this man in front of a miracle worker.

But in this story, familial ties were not the catalyst for this man’s healing.  Instead, it was his friends.  Four men, that knew him, knew his story, knew his depression, knew how hurt he was from life sidelining him.  These friends knew they didn’t hold the power to heal him, but they knew one who could.

So they went to their friend and then they carried him to the place where Jesus was teaching that day. 

The catch was the place was packed out.  There was no room for this small group desperately seeking healing for their paralyzed friend.

Many in that situation would have called it a day.  They would have stood on the sidelines and watched and listened passively.  They would have assumed there was nothing more they could do and conclude they should turn around and carry their friend back home.

But by God’s grace, that is not how the story ends.  Instead, these four friends, they refuse to take “no” for an answer.  They refuse to let their friend remain in his paralyzed state.  

So they rally.  

They get creative and they look for ways to be inconvenienced by the situation.  They are ready to go the extra mile for this dear soul laying paralyzed on the mat they were carrying.

They decide to get crazy creative.  They committed to not go home without their friend getting healed.  And then they climbed to the top of the roof and cut out an opening so they could

lower their friend to a place he never would have been able to get to on his own because of his condition: They lowered him in front of Jesus.

At the sight of all this, I think Jesus’ breath was taken away.  He pauses from his teaching.  He acknowledges this bold and daring act.  Mark 2:5 says when Jesus saw the faith of these friends, he said to the paralyzed man, “Son, your sins are forgiven.”  And then he told the man to get up, take his mat, and go home.

What I love about this story is it is all about friendship.  It was not the paralyzed man’s unshakable faith that healed him; instead, it was the faith of his friends who said: We refuse to let our friend stay where he is.  We are getting him help, and we know that help will only come from the hands of Jesus.

When Jesus, says “Son, your sins are forgiven,” I think he touched a very tender part of this paralyzed man’s story.  Because it was not the hands of this man’s mother, father, or family members who carried him that day.  So when Jesus called him “Son”, I think He was speaking into something profoundly broken about this man’s story.  I think Jesus knew the reality and the hurt that came from the fact this man was being carried by individuals who had no familial attachment to him.

So when Jesus saw the sight, he was moved to action.  He was moved to intervention.  He was moved to heal this paralyzed man and forever change the trajectory of his story.

What most of you know is my family is pretty broken.  I’ve historically played the role as the parent in these familial relationships.  It is a dynamic I’ve come to love, embrace, and be grateful for.  But when the bottom fell out of my own life this year, I found myself looking around for family support, but the reality was, there wasn’t much.

A deep place of grief was activated by the miscarriages.  Old wounds were opened that I had tucked away over the years.  And the emotions that came from being hit by this tidal wave of grief left me paralyzed in many ways.

I wanted to get up, bounce back, and to land on my feet.  I wanted healing and wholeness but the reality was I was stuck.  My faith was evaporating.  I knew God was real but in this particular season, I didn’t know how to get to Him.

And that’s where you all come in.  The heart behind wanting to gather with you today was to say “thank you”.  Thank you for your encouragement.  Thank you for your prayers.  Thank you for your support.  You have been a light in the darkness in my story.  You have pointed me to Jesus.  You have pointed me to hope.  And you, just like the friends in this gospel story, carried me to the feet of Jesus.  And it is because of your own faith and kindness, your own intercession on my behalf, that we are able to celebrate today.

This precious life growing within me medically was not supposed to happen.  The odds were against us from the beginning.  But God.  He is merciful.  I think He heard your prayers, your whispers of encouragement, and He did a thing only He could do.  Because God knows, I had no words of faith or prayer after the losses.  I was barely hanging on.

So thank you.  Thank you for being here today.  Thank you for coming to celebrate.  Thank you for taking the time out of your holiday schedules to gather and to rally on our behalf.  Thank you for your support.  

I’ll never be able to properly convey the gratitude in my heart for each one of you but just know my understanding of friendship has forever been changed because of the way you’ve loved me and this sweet boy growing inside me.

You’ve taught me the power of prayer, actions, and words.  You’ve taught me the importance of random texts, phone calls, door knocks, food, coffee dates, and relentless encouragement.  You’ve taught me that friendship can carry people to the feet of Jesus.  You’ve reminded me that miracles do happen; that love can come from so many different avenues; that friendships are a powerful, powerful thing.  You’ve taught my heart to see fullness where there has historically been a lack.  And you’ve been a light in a very dark season.  

We love you.  We are thankful for you.  And we are so darn grateful to call you friends.

———

If calling God "Father" feels particularly painful this season, may you have the courage to remember Him as, "Friend", instead.