I have a friend. He has an agenda. It’s pretty straightforward.
He loves me.
He is safe. I can share anything with him, and it stays with him. He is a great listener and confidant. By doing so, he lets the deepest recesses of my heart and mind reach the light of day.
He is strong. He asks me the hard questions. He makes me consider and reconsider. He is a strong defender of my faith and commitment.
He is available. Whether it is for a lunch or a quick cry for prayer, he is there. He hasn’t walked away from me when I came out; in fact, he drew closer. I don’t make him feel nervous or ashamed.
He is an exemplary fighter. He knows what “journey” means. He has fought his own demons and has learned to live in freedom and victory. He passes on the wisdom he has built into his own life.
I deeply value my friend. His friendship and his loyalty to our relationship is like nothing I’ve experienced, second only to my wife.
Is it any wonder I call him “my friend?”