I’m not sure, but I think maybe the most crushing phrase Satan can whisper in our ears is “You’re the only one.”
You’re the only one who’s ever made a mistake that bad.
The only one who hasn’t had a date in a year (or three).
The only one who didn’t get that job or didn’t get into that school or wasn’t invited…
The only one who hasn’t done something important like marching on Washington or getting published or feeding the hungry in Calcutta.
You’re the only one small enough to feel jealous or sensitive about that stupid thing. Remember? Like that thing I confessed here on Friday.
But then God gives a gift. The gift of friends who put their arm around us and whisper “Me too.
They say “It’s really ok. We’re all messes. All fixer-uppers. And I still love you.”
The other day after my post I took a walk on the beach with my dear friend… the sun so bright, the rolling tide so steady – dancing with the sand in a frolicky way, not rough and mean like it can be some days.
And my friend asked some gentle questions and she listened and poured grace like she was pouring me a tall glass of sparkling icy tea. Like she always does. And she shared a little of her own “maybe I’m the only one” stuff.
Though the exact words may not have been spoken, everything about our conversation said “Me too.” and “I still love you.”
It feels like God provides these safe friends for a glimpse of the divine. They remind us we’re not alone.
And then, like when the surf after a storm has left a lot of junk on the beach, our friends help us sift through the broken bits and find the beauty that’s still there. The bright pieces of sea glass and the intact sand dollar that has survived the pounding.
So today I’m thankful for friends who say “Me too.” and “I still love you.” and “There’s still beautiful treasure in the mess.”
