One of my favorite movies is the old western "Shane." Shane, a man who has never come to terms with his past, sentences himself to a life of isolation. He becomes the reluctant hero to a western town and idol to a young boy. The closing lines of the movie are iconic. The young boy cries out to the hero as he rides off into the distance, "Shane, come back, Shane."
But he does not come back. Shane does not even look back to the boy who is desperately crying out for not just his friendship but the need for a father. Stern and isolated, he rides off into the sunset. He is connected yet alone. I meet a lot of Shanes.
We seem to live in an age that is connected yet somehow isolated. We can cyberstalk our "friends" and update our status via our smart-phones whenever we desire. Now I know I am starting to sound like a crazy old man sitting on the porch wearing his pants up to his armpits and screaming "Back in my day we had to talk to people face to face. It was painful and inconvenient, and we liked it."
But in talking with others, men in particular, I have observed that there seems to be a silent scream for deep and authentic friendships. And I'm not alone in my observations. Duke University researchers found that between 1985 and 2004, "the number of people who said there was no one with whom they discussed important matters tripled." Connected but isolated.
Independent isolation is not God's ideal for our lives. Throughout the greater story of Scripture we cross smaller stories of lives being knit together. Jonathan and David are two men whose friendship is forged from the events of the battlefield. Ruth and Naomi were committed to each other and to making the battle of life more than just existence.
Paul and Barnabas traverse the world together in the mission of sharing the good news. God forges these and other friendships, allowing us to become more than we ever thought we could be for his glory.
Initiating friendship, sharing important matters, demands vulnerability. To become our best created selves we not only have to admit that we need God but that we also need others.
Rob Hurtgen is a husband, father, minister and writer. Read more from him at www.robhurtgen.wordpress.com.
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