Do you know who your friend is?

We may be the most connected people who have ever lived and still be getting worse at actually knowing one another.

I can know where you are. I can see what you did this weekend. I know where you work, what restaurant you visited,  and probably whether you read my text. But I can know where you are without having the slightest idea how you are.

Most of us have a script for this. “How are you?” “Good.” “How’s work?” “Busy.” “Family?” “Good.” And off we go.

The script is useful because the script is cheap.  But Paul’s relationship with the Thessalonians looks nothing like that.

In 1 Thessalonians 2:17–3:13, Paul has been physically separated from a group of young believers he deeply loves. He knows they are suffering. He knows temptation is real. And eventually he says he “could bear it no longer.” He has to know how they are doing. 

We are good at knowing people from twenty feet away

Years ago, I started using a simple exercise in classes on missional living. The idea was to measure how well we actually know the people we call friends. The exercise exposed something in me. 

I knew their job. Their hobbies. Their kids’ names. Their politics. What teams they loved. What irritated them. Where they vacationed. But I had learned how to maintain relationships without asking the questions that might make their problems become my problems. Because that’s the risk, isn’t it?

Ask a second question and you might get a real answer. Ask a third question and you may lose your Saturday. Someone might cry. Someone might confess something.

There’s no such thing as a deep relationship where nobody ever needs anything. Doesn’t exist. So how well do you actually know your friend?

Think about one person in your life. It could be another Christian. It could be somebody far from Jesus. It could be someone you have called a friend for ten years.

Now grade yourself from 1 to 4.

1 = I barely know this about them.   2 = I know some of this, but mostly at a surface level.   3 = I know them well enough that we have talked honestly about this.   4 = I know them deeply. I could probably predict their answer before they gave it.

Now work through these questions.

1. What are they really hoping will make life okay? 

What is their functional heaven? What would make them finally say, “If I had that, I’d be okay”?

2. What are they most afraid of losing?

What would feel like hell to them? Failure? Rejection? Financial instability? Loneliness? A child going sideways? Aging? Being insignificant?

3. What do they look to for rescue?

When life starts falling apart, where do they instinctively run for safety, control, approval, escape, or comfort?

4. What hurts them most deeply?

What makes them grieve? What wounds are they carrying? What subject changes the tone of their voice?

5. What brings them genuine joy?

What do they celebrate? What causes them to come alive?

6. What do they believe is wrong with the world?

Everyone has a doctrine of sin, even if they would never call it that. What do they think is broken about people, society, family, religion, themselves?

7. What do they believe about God?

Not merely, “Do they believe in God?” What kind of God do they imagine exists? Distant? Angry? Useful? Indifferent? Loving but irrelevant?

8. Where did their view of Christianity come from?

Parents? Church? A painful experience? Social media? A faithful Christian? A hypocritical Christian? Have you ever actually asked?

9. How do they understand you and your faith?

Do they know what Jesus means to you? Do they understand why you believe what you believe? What do they think you believe about them?

10. Who really knows them?

Who gets the phone call when something falls apart at 2:00 in the morning?

If I don’t ask the second question, I don’t have to carry the answer. If I don’t know your marriage is unraveling, I don’t have to enter it. If I don’t know you’re doubting God, I don’t have to sit in those questions with you. If I don’t know you’re drifting, I don’t have to risk the awkward conversation.

Skin-deep relationships are wonderfully efficient, which is why we have them. But, the gospel produces people who increasingly care about what God cares about. We carry burdens because Christ has carried ours. We move toward people because Christ moved toward us.

Which means Christian friendship cannot finally be satisfied with, “Hope everything works out.” Not anymore. It notices and approaches difficulty. And, it breaks the script.