Chisom was the kind of woman every party wanted. She ran a busy pharmacy in Yaba, sang in the choir, organised the women’s fellowship outings and seemed to know someone in every office in Lagos. Her phone buzzed constantly. On her birthday, her WhatsApp status received over three hundred views and more messages than she could answer in a week. If you had asked anyone in her church whether Chisom had many friends, they would have laughed at the question.
At a wedding reception in Lekki, under a canopy that was losing its battle against the harmattan dust, she spotted Ndidi across the hall. They had been roommates at university in Nsukka. They had studied for pharmacology exams together by candlelight when the power failed, shared one pot of stew for a whole week when their allowances ran out and sworn they would be friends until they were old women.
Chisom crossed the hall with her arms open. “Ndidi! My sister! It has been too long.”
Ndidi hugged her, but something was stiff in it. When they sat down, she was quiet for a while. Then she said, gently, “Chisom, my father had a stroke in February. You know that. You sent me a voice note. You said you were praying and that I should call you if I needed anything.” She paused. “I was in Enugu for four months, sleeping on a mat beside his hospital bed. I needed you. I just didn’t know how to ask.”
Chisom began to say something about how busy the pharmacy had been, and stopped herself, because she could hear how it sounded. Ndidi was not angry. She was simply telling the truth. “You are everybody’s friend,” she said, and squeezed Chisom’s hand. “I just wasn’t sure, this year, if you were mine.”
Chisom drove home that night along the Lekki-Epe expressway with the radio off, asking herself a question she had never thought to ask. She knew she had friends. She had never seriously asked whether she was one.
The question friendship asks of us
Most of our thinking about friendship focuses on what we receive. Do I have good friends? Are they loyal to me? Do they support me? Do they understand me? These are reasonable questions. But there is another question that matters just as much, and we ask it far less often. What kind of friend am I becoming for someone else?
Proverbs puts it simply: “A man that hath friends must shew himself friendly” (Proverbs 18:24). Friendship is a gift we receive, and it is also a responsibility we carry. The quality of our friendships depends partly on the people around us, and partly on the kind of person we are choosing to be for them.
Chisom was warm, generous with her greetings and quick with a kind word. People liked her. But she had come to treat friendship as something that happened around her, rather than something she actively gave. Her many connections were real, but they were thin. When a friend needed more than a voice note, she was not there.
This teaching is about the responsibility side of friendship. It is about dependable care, the kind that shows up when it costs something. It is about the courage to speak necessary truth, even when silence would be easier. And it is about doing both for the friend’s good, never as a means of controlling them.
Love that lays itself down
All Christian thinking about friendship has to start with Jesus, because He is the friend who defines what friendship means. On the night before His death, He said this to His disciples:
This is my commandment, That ye love one another, as I have loved you. Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.
“That ye love one another, as I have loved you.” Jesus sets the measure of our love. Not as we feel like loving. Not as others have loved us. As He has loved us. And then He describes the shape of that love: “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”
Within hours of saying those words, Jesus did exactly that. He laid down His life for these very friends, men who would fall asleep in the garden, run away when He was arrested and, in Peter’s case, deny knowing Him. He did not wait for them to deserve it. He loved them first, and He loved them all the way to the cross.
A few verses later, He says something astonishing: “I have called you friends; for all things that I have heard of my Father I have made known unto you” (John 15:15). The Son of God calls His disciples friends. He has opened His heart to them and shared what the Father has shown Him.
This is the foundation of everything else. Before we are ever asked to be good friends, we are befriended by Christ. Our ability to give friendship flows from the friendship we have received. Identity comes before activity here as everywhere else in the Christian life. A believer who knows himself to be Christ’s friend has something to give his friends that does not depend on how they treat him in return.
Laying down your life will rarely mean dying for someone. But it often means laying down your time, your convenience, your comfort, your preferences. It might mean a long drive on a bad road. It might mean a night without sleep. It might mean giving up an evening you had planned for yourself. Every act of real friendship involves some small laying down of life for another.
Looking on the things of others
Paul explains the inner disposition that makes this kind of love possible:
Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves. Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others.
“Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory.” Vainglory is empty glory, the hunger to be seen and admired. It can shape friendships in subtle ways. We may choose friends who make us look good. We may enjoy being known as someone with many friends. We may give help in ways that are visible and avoid help that no one will notice.
Punchline“But in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves.” This does not mean thinking poorly of ourselves. It means placing a high value on the other person, treating their needs as important, giving them honour.
“Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others.” Notice the word also. Paul does not say we should never consider our own needs. He says that our gaze should not stop there. A good friend pays attention to what is happening in the other person’s life. What are they carrying? What are they afraid of? What do they need that they have not asked for?
Ndidi had not asked Chisom for help. “I just didn’t know how to ask,” she said. Many people in crisis are like that. They are too exhausted, too proud or too overwhelmed to make a specific request. “Call me if you need anything” sounds generous, but it places the burden of asking on the person least able to carry it. Looking on the things of others means noticing, and then acting, without waiting to be asked.
Paul immediately ties this to Christ: “Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 2:5). Jesus, though He was in the form of God, made Himself of no reputation and took the form of a servant. The model for looking on the things of others is the Son of God, who looked on our things and came down to meet our need.
Dependable care
One of the most basic responsibilities of friendship is simply to be there. The Teacher of Ecclesiastes saw this clearly:
Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour. For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up.
“For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow.” Life brings falls: illness, bereavement, job loss, failure, depression, betrayal. A friend is someone who is there to help you up. “But woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up.”
Proverbs adds: “A friend loveth at all times, and a brother is born for adversity” (Proverbs 17:17). At all times. Not only when it is convenient. Not only when the friend is fun to be with. Adversity is precisely when friendship is tested and proved.
Dependable care is often unspectacular. It is turning up at the hospital with food. It is sitting with a grieving friend when you do not know what to say. It is remembering the anniversary of a death and calling that day. It is helping move house, minding the children so that a tired mother can sleep, checking in after a difficult medical appointment.
The friends of Job are often remembered for their bad theology, and rightly so. But we should not forget how they began. When they heard of Job’s suffering, “they came every one from his own place” to comfort him. And “they sat down with him upon the ground seven days and seven nights, and none spake a word unto him: for they saw that his grief was very great” (Job 2:13). For a whole week, they simply stayed. That was the best thing they did. Their trouble began when they opened their mouths to explain his suffering. Sometimes the most faithful thing a friend can do is to be present and quiet.
There is a beautiful example of dependable care in the friendship of Jonathan and David. David was running for his life from King Saul, Jonathan’s own father. He was hiding in the wilderness, afraid and exhausted. Then:
And Jonathan Saul’s son arose, and went to David into the wood, and strengthened his hand in God. And he said unto him, Fear not: for the hand of Saul my father shall not find thee; and thou shalt be king over Israel, and I shall be next unto thee; and that also Saul my father knoweth.
“And Jonathan Saul’s son arose, and went to David into the wood, and strengthened his hand in God.” Jonathan went to him. He took a real risk to do so, because his father was hunting David. And notice what he did when he got there. He did not merely sympathise. He “strengthened his hand in God.” He reminded David of God’s promises. He spoke courage into him. “Fear not.”
That is the heart of Christian friendship. We do more than comfort each other with human sympathy. We strengthen one another’s hands in God. We point our friends back to His faithfulness, His promises, His presence. And we do it by going to them, wherever they are hiding.
Hearty counsel
Friendship involves more than presence. It also involves wise words. Proverbs describes this with a lovely image:
Ointment and perfume rejoice the heart: so doth the sweetness of a man’s friend by hearty counsel. Thine own friend, and thy father’s friend, forsake not; neither go into thy brother’s house in the day of thy calamity: for better is a neighbour that is near than a brother far off.
“Ointment and perfume rejoice the heart: so doth the sweetness of a man’s friend by hearty counsel.” In the ancient world, fragrant oils were used to refresh guests and bring joy to a gathering. Proverbs says that a friend’s counsel does the same for the heart. The phrase hearty counsel suggests counsel that comes from the soul, sincere and heartfelt. Cold advice delivered from a distance does not qualify. This is wisdom offered by someone who genuinely cares.
The next verse adds a note of loyalty: “Thine own friend, and thy father’s friend, forsake not.” Long friendships, even friendships that span generations, are precious. They should not be abandoned lightly. And then a practical observation: “better is a neighbour that is near than a brother far off.” In a crisis, the person close at hand who actually comes may be worth more than a relative far away who cannot or will not.
Chisom had been “a brother far off” to Ndidi that year. She was not far in miles. Lagos to Enugu is a long drive, but people make it every week. She was far in attention. The sweetness of hearty counsel had not reached Ndidi, because Chisom had never sat with her long enough to offer it.
Rejoicing when your friend rises
There is a test of friendship that has nothing to do with crisis. It comes when things go well for your friend. Paul writes, “Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep” (Romans 12:15). Many of us find the second half easier than the first. We can sit with a friend in grief. It is harder to celebrate honestly when she gets the promotion we wanted, when his business takes off while ours struggles, when her children win the scholarships and ours do not.
Envy is a quiet destroyer of friendships. It rarely announces itself. It shows up as a slightly delayed congratulation, a compliment with a small barb in it, a sudden busyness when the friend wants to share good news. Saul loved David until the women sang that David had slain his ten thousands, and from that day “Saul eyed David” (1 Samuel 18:9). Jonathan, who had far more reason to envy David, since David would take the throne that might have been his, chose the opposite path. He gave David his own robe and sword (1 Samuel 18:4), and, as we saw in the wood, he gladly told David that he would be king and that Jonathan would stand next to him.
What made the difference? Jonathan was secure in God. He did not need David’s failure to feel safe about his own place. The believer who knows he is loved by the Father, accepted in the Beloved and called Christ’s friend, is set free to celebrate other people’s blessings without feeling robbed. Your friend’s rising takes nothing from you.
Part of being a good friend, then, is learning to be glad, really glad, when good things happen to the people you love. Send the message first. Turn up at the celebration. Tell others what your friend has achieved. And when you notice the cold pinch of envy, bring it straight to God before it can settle into the friendship.
The courage to speak truth
Here we come to one of the hardest responsibilities of friendship. Sometimes a friend must say something the other person does not want to hear. Proverbs is direct about it:
Open rebuke is better than secret love. Faithful are the wounds of a friend; but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful.
“Open rebuke is better than secret love.” That is a striking statement. Love that stays hidden, that never speaks up when something is wrong, is less valuable than honest correction. A friend who sees you walking toward a cliff and says nothing because they do not want to upset you is not loving you well.
“Faithful are the wounds of a friend; but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful.” A friend’s honest words may wound. They may hurt for a while. But they are faithful, which means trustworthy and loyal. They come from someone who has your good at heart. The enemy, by contrast, may flatter you, kiss you, tell you only what you want to hear, while leading you toward harm. Another proverb warns that “A man that flattereth his neighbour spreadeth a net for his feet” (Proverbs 29:5).
Many of us find this very difficult. We value harmony. We do not want to be seen as judgemental. We worry that speaking up will damage the friendship. So we stay silent while a friend makes a ruinous financial decision, enters a destructive relationship, drifts away from God or harms other people. We tell ourselves we are being respectful. Often we are simply being afraid.
Paul’s instruction is to be found “speaking the truth in love” (Ephesians 4:15). Both halves matter. Truth without love becomes harsh and crushing. Love without truth becomes sentimental and useless. The good friend holds them together.
“Iron sharpeneth iron; so a man sharpeneth the countenance of his friend” (Proverbs 27:17). Sharpening involves friction. Two pieces of iron do not sharpen each other by sitting side by side. A friendship in which nothing difficult is ever said may be pleasant, but it will not make either person sharper.
A good friend shows up when it costs something and speaks up when silence would be easier, and does both for the friend’s good, never to control them.
Correction without control
There is a danger on the other side, and it needs to be named clearly. Some people use the language of “speaking the truth” to control others. They correct constantly. They have an opinion about every decision their friend makes. They withdraw affection when their advice is not followed. They use guilt and pressure to get their way. This is not the faithful wound of a friend. It is manipulation dressed as care.
Paul gives us a guide for correction that protects against this:
Brethren, if a man be overtaken in a fault, ye which are spiritual, restore such an one in the spirit of meekness; considering thyself, lest thou also be tempted. Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.
“If a man be overtaken in a fault, ye which are spiritual, restore such an one in the spirit of meekness.” The goal of correction is restoration. The Greek word was used for setting a broken bone or mending a fishing net. It aims to make the person whole again. It is never about winning an argument, proving you were right or establishing your authority over the other person.
“In the spirit of meekness.” Meekness is strength under control. It is gentle, patient, humble. A friend who corrects in meekness does not shout, does not threaten, does not humiliate.
“Considering thyself, lest thou also be tempted.” The person offering correction must remember his own weakness. You are not above the person you are correcting. You could fall the same way. That humility changes the tone of everything you say.
“Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.” Correction is placed in the context of burden-bearing. The friend who corrects is also the friend who helps carry the load. You do not deliver your verdict and walk away.
NuggetHow can you tell the difference between correction that serves a friend and correction that controls them? A few questions help.
- Is my concern about something genuinely serious, or simply about a choice I would make differently?
- Have I earned the right to speak by being present and caring in other ways?
- Am I speaking once, clearly and kindly, or repeating myself to wear them down?
- Will I still love and support them if they do not take my advice?
- Am I prepared to leave the decision with them and with God?
That last question is crucial. A good friend speaks truth and then respects the other person’s freedom. Paul says just a few verses later that “every man shall bear his own burden” (Galatians 6:5). Your friend is responsible before God for their own choices. You can warn, advise and plead. You cannot and must not try to force their hand. Love that threatens to withdraw unless it is obeyed is not the love of Christ.
It is also worth saying that a friend is not a saviour. There are burdens a friend can share and burdens that need other help: a doctor, a counsellor, a pastor, a lawyer, sometimes the police. A good friend recognises those limits and helps the other person reach the help they need, rather than trying to carry everything alone. Pointing a friend toward appropriate professional help is an act of love.
After the wedding, Chisom did something she had never done before. She took two days off from the pharmacy, an almost unthinkable thing in December, and drove to Enugu. Ndidi’s father had been discharged by then, but he could barely walk. Chisom did not bring a speech. She brought a cooler of jollof rice, a bag of groceries and a willingness to sit. She helped Ndidi bathe her father. She stayed up with her talking until two in the morning. On the second day, before she left, she said, “I wasn’t there when you needed me. I am sorry. I am going to try to be a better friend to you.”
That might have been the end of the story. But six months later, a harder test came.
Ndidi had become involved in an online investment scheme that promised thirty per cent returns every month. She had put in her savings. Then she had borrowed from her cooperative society. Now she was encouraging her younger sisters and friends from church to join. When she mentioned it to Chisom, her eyes were bright. “You should come in too. This is how God is going to restore what we spent on Daddy’s treatment.”
Chisom had read enough about such schemes to recognise the pattern. She spent a sleepless night praying. Then she called Ndidi and asked if they could meet. Over a plate of suya near Ndidi’s office, she said it plainly. “Ndidi, I love you, and because I love you I have to say this. I believe this scheme is going to collapse. I think you will lose your money, and I think the people you have brought in will lose theirs. Please stop putting money in, and please stop inviting others. I could be wrong. But I would rather risk annoying you than watch you be hurt and say nothing.”
PunchlineNdidi was furious. She accused Chisom of jealousy and of lacking faith. She walked out before the suya was finished.
Chisom did not chase her with more arguments. She did not tell their mutual friends. She did not make her love conditional on Ndidi’s agreement. She sent one message that night: “I said what I needed to say. I won’t keep repeating it. Whatever you decide, I am still your friend.” Then she prayed, and waited.
The scheme froze withdrawals four months later. Ndidi lost most of what she had put in, though not all, because after that conversation she had quietly stopped adding more and had stopped inviting others. A week after the collapse, she knocked on Chisom’s door late on a Saturday night. She did not say much. She simply fell into Chisom’s arms and cried.
“You told me,” she said eventually.
“I did,” said Chisom. “And I’m still here.”
That is the responsibility of a good friend. To show up when it costs something. To strengthen your friend’s hand in God. To speak the truth when silence would be easier. And then to leave them free, keep loving them, and be there when they come home. Jesus has called you His friend. Ask Him this week what kind of friend He is making you for someone else.
Teaching Companion
For Reflection
- When did someone show you dependable care when it cost them something? How did it affect you?
- Think of your closest friendships. Are you more often the one receiving care or the one giving it?
- Is there a friend who needs you to show up, without waiting to be asked?
- Is there something true you have been afraid to say to a friend? What would “speaking the truth in love” look like in that situation?
- How can you tell when your correction of someone has crossed over into control?
This Week
Choose one friend who is going through a difficult season. Instead of saying “let me know if you need anything,” offer one specific act of care this week: a visit, a meal, an errand, an hour of company. Do it without announcing it to anyone else. If there is a friend to whom you need to speak a difficult truth, pray about it first, then speak once, clearly and kindly, and leave the outcome with God.
A Prayer
Lord Jesus, thank You for calling me Your friend and laying down Your life for me. Forgive me for the times I have been a friend in name only, quick with words and slow to show up. Open my eyes to the things of others. Give me the faithfulness to be present when it costs me something, and the courage to speak the truth in love when silence would be easier. Keep me from using correction to control anyone. Help me to strengthen my friends’ hands in You and to leave them free. Make me the kind of friend You have been to me. In Your name, Amen.
Truth received brings freedom. Truth believed establishes the heart.
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version. · Illustrations using first names only are composites unless stated otherwise.