Column
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9 min read

From the barber’s chair: the friendships that open us up

Adrian and Neal recall and recount tales of friendships and what made them work so well.
Three men walk down a path, the middle one talking and gesturing while the others listen.
Centre for Ageing Better on Unsplash.

Adrian

As life moves on, I began to realize how important my friendships are. Half the people that I grew up with are now married with kids and the other half are still living their life independently. We all have our own paths in life, and I believe whichever path you take, those whom you consider friends will support you and your decisions no matter what. 

As I went through my issues in 2019, I had nothing but support from my family and 

friends. It wasn't easy for me to be open with my struggles because I felt that everyone would look at me differently. I received nothing but support from everyone then and when I returned to work. They were all there, waiting to book their next cuts with me. From the beginning of my return I knew, then, how important my clients were to me. I wasn't just their barber; I was their friend whom they continued to support even during one of the craziest times in my life.  

Trying to stay afloat during a global pandemic was not easy; honestly it was one of the hardest things I’ve had to deal with. I knew I had to be as strong as I could be so I could help my loved ones stay positive and their heads held high. 

During these times, I worked as much as possible. At every appointment with a client, they showed support and always checked in with how I was. I used all these opportunities to help myself by speaking what was on my mind. Sometimes they would even open up to me and share what was going on in their lives, positive or negative. These times were much needed therapy sessions at every appointment. Being vulnerable helped me so much and it also helped my friends share what was on their minds; they opened up to me. 

When I finally felt right to open up about this incident it was with people who shared the same struggles. They understood and never once judged me. 

Growing up we were taught never to show any fear or emotion. I grew up in a rough area where if you showed weakness, you could be the next target to get bullied. I didn't realize until about four years ago how that way of living was wrong. That way of living haunted me for years.  

Going back to my childhood, there was an incident that shaped my teens and early 

adulthood. I was touched inappropriately by a member of my family and thankfully someone came home so it didn't go further than it did. I never spoke about this incident because I didn't realize the severity of the situation as a young boy and how it would affect me in my later life. You would never think a family member would do anything to put you or harm you in any way. Even as an adult I never said anything because I did not want to get judged or have people put a label on me that wasn't true. When I finally felt right to open up about this incident it was with people who shared the same struggles. They understood and never once judged me. 

These were people who I just met but I felt like I had known them for years. I opened up to them more than I had opened up to my childhood friends and family.  

This is where I discovered the meaning of friendship. I was never judged and looked at differently. I was the same person to them, and I was accepted no matter what. What a great feeling. I began to hold my friendships close as I had the confidence to share so much with everyone. One of the first clients whom I felt comfortable with opening up with was my friend Neal. I remember going over to cut Neal’s and his sons’ hair and I always left feeling purified. I can honestly say that Neal is one-of-a-kind and I'm so lucky to have him by my side. Neal has seen me at my lowest and never once has he ever judged me. 

He and his family have shown nothing but support and just truly care for our friendship. This is where I discovered the meaning of friendship. To me, the meaning of friendship is endless love no matter what the person or persons are going through. You never judge but try to point your friend or loved one in the right direction. Always support and be there when you can. We can take for granted those friendships and lose sight that they are the ones that would be there with a simple phone call or text. 

Today I cherish all my friendships and I'm there for those who were there for me when I was at my lowest. I will do anything in my power because I know my friends and family would do the same for me. 

Neal

Thirty years ago, there were a little over 600 websites, two years after the World Wide Web debuted on the global stage. Today, there are a little over two billion websites. Yet, with all of our connectivity, loneliness is endemic. The social isolation that ensued during COVID-19 only exacerbated what was latent in our body politic. Yet, whether pre-, peri-, or post-COVID, the level and depth of loneliness is staggering. While many people have social media accounts, and the ubiquity of smart devices keep us all connected 24/7, one’s number of “likes,” “friends,” “followers” belie what is experienced in silence: we live, and move, and have our being in lonesome existence. We seek to be known and loved, but our career pursuits and dreams of having families leave us feeling alone.  

They desired someone or a few who could understand them, who desired to understand them, to love them.  And to love them not for a quid pro quo, but just to love them for who they are. 

For eight years I served an affluent congregation in one of America’s most affluent ZIP codes. Business acumen, political gravitas, excellence in duty, and elegance in program execution were the values and expectations of the community and congregational context. It was a wonderful ministry, where I learned much and where I had to engage my gifts and skills in deeper ways. God opened up spaces for me to minister within, love and be loved by people who were successful in their industry.  

When that ministry concluded, two separate congregants asked to meet for a meal. Each of them shared that they appreciated my season of pastoral ministry and they hoped that we would continue staying in touch, perhaps become close friends. They realized that they had spent decades forging business relationships, raising a family (for one of them, navigating a divorce of a second failed marriage), and having careers. Now in their mid-/late fifties they looked around and saw the absence of relationships of any meaningful depth. Sure, there were the business lunches, dinners with friends and cocktails with other couples. But in their mid-life, they sought authentic friendships. They desired someone or a few who could understand them, who desired to understand them, to love them.  And to love them not for a quid pro quo, but just to love them for who they are. They said that they experienced a semblance of that in my eight-year ministry with the congregation.  

What was I to do with their request? I had already left the employment of the church by then. They and I had to part ways as I was no longer their pastor. If anything, we were friends, and would remain so, but I could not commit to the level of depth they desired. I told each of them, gently and pastorally, that two decades ago, when I was newly married and starting my pastoral vocation, I intentionally forged a wide network of friendships. Not just for my work but for emotional and spiritual support.  But among this network, there was that small few whom I can count on one hand who are the A-Team of friendships. Those friendships were cultivated over many years – a couple of them over two decades – as we have been intentional about being in each other’s lives. We would stay in touch and would find opportunities to see each other, carving out precious times wherever we were in the world and whatever demands were on our plate.  That intentional commitment meant being willing to be vulnerable. It meant taking the risk early on to open up my heart with guys I deeply trusted and who entrusted their hearts to me. 

The Message version of the Old Testament wisdom sayings of Proverbs says: “Friends come and friends go, but a true friend sticks by you like family.” 

It’s that quality of friendship that is most needed more than ever. It’s the God-shaped heart that takes the risk to love and be loved. It’s the kind where you can whisper to your friend the sacred longings, hopes, dreams, and fears of your heart 

I didn’t want to deflate the spirits of my two former congregants. But neither did I want to over-promise, to commit myself to investing the time and energy in cultivating the depth of friendship they sought. I told them let’s stay in touch and we left it that. It’s been over a year since those sacred conversations and there’s radio silence.  

In reflecting upon those conversations, and in similar conversations with many pastor colleagues and fellow dads who are not pastors, loneliness is, indeed, endemic. It’s tragic and it’s sad. As we can’t be deep friends with everyone, there is a yearning and longing for the depth of friendships that my former congregants sought. People seek that authentic depth of desiring to be known, of being listened to, of being received and welcomed into one’s heart without having to prove anything.  

As Jesus was nearing the end of his time with his friends (his disciples), he emphasized how important it is to love one another. He even washes their feet to demonstrate that even the Son of God will humble himself because he loves his friends. He teaches them what he means when he calls them friends, when he regards us as his friends, and not as servants. This is what Jesus our friend said,  

“I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing, but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father” 

The late Earl Palmer, an American Presbyterian pastor, taught from this passage. Palmer observed that Jesus regards us as his friend by virtue of the fact that Jesus allows us to be in the company of him and the heavenly Father as they have a conversation about the secrets of God’s heart. In other words, only to his friends will Jesus whisper the Father’s heart because to do so is to entrust the treasure of the One who loves him into our own heart. That by doing so, we are let into the heart of God. 

It’s that quality of friendship that is most needed more than ever. It’s the God-shaped heart that takes the risk to love and be loved. It’s the kind where you can whisper to your friend the sacred longings, hopes, dreams, and fears of your heart. It’s, likewise, receiving from your friend the same: being entrusted with the treasure of their heart. And it’s also experiencing joy and delight in being with each other, even through online technology, whether it be for a 15-minute coffee or for a whole day at the tennis courts or sharing corny jokes that no one else appreciates but they do.  

Friendships are gifts of God and gifts from God. The ability to open up our hearts and lives to others is a gift of and from God as well. In doing so, we reflect a bit on what Jesus shows us what love is about, what it takes to love, and what it means to be loved.  

The wise words of philosopher and poet, Henri-Frédéric Amiel, encapsulate well what is needed more than ever:  

“Life is short. We have but little time to gladden the hearts of those who walk this way with us. So we swift to love, make haste to be kind.”  

Article
Comment
Community
Migration
Politics
5 min read

Our problem with immigration is not open or closed borders but the decline of Christianity

Christianity doesn’t provide immigration policy, but it could still unite our communities

Graham is the Director of the Centre for Cultural Witness and a former Bishop of Kensington.

Keir Starmer and Emmanuel Macron in front of flags.
Starmer and Macron announce their deal.
10 Downing Street.

So Keir Starmer and Emmanuel Macron have done a deal on migrants. One in, one out. The EU might yet block the plan, and it may fail as many have before it. The Conservatives’ Rwanda idea never got off the ground. Will this one? Labour hail it as a breakthrough with the French agreeing to take back some migrants for the first time. The right-wing media complain this is a drop in the ocean and will make precious little difference. 

What interests me is the role Christianity plays in this debate, invoked as it is on both sides of the argument.  

On the right, the argument runs like this: Britain is (or used to be) a Christian country. It is now in danger of being overrun by people who do not share that faith, or the values that are rooted in Christianity. Therefore, we must put a rapid halt to excessive immigration, especially migrants from conservative Islamic countries such as Afghanistan, Somalia or Pakistan. If we don’t, we will see the UK change dramatically and lose its distinct Christian identity.  

So, in a speech last year, Reform leader Nigel Farage claimed that “Judeo-Christian values” are at the root of “everything” in Britain. These values, he said, were that “the family matters, the community matters, working with each other matters, the country matters.” 

I’m sure they do. Christianity has shaped the character of the UK over centuries. And there is undoubtedly a sense in many places, especially more deprived ones, that communities have changed and are becoming unrecognisable from what they were. The chattering classes in Hampstead and Chipping Norton are hardly likely to feel the pinch, yet Bradford or Burnley can feel very different now than they did 50 years ago.  

Yet it’s hard to identify Farage’s values as distinctly Christian. Many Muslims would claim much the same, and it would be difficult to describe his list as an adequate summary of the message of Jesus. ‘Judeo-Christian values’ are often identified on the right as being the same as ‘British values’, which are defined by the UK government as “democracy, the rule of law, individual liberty, and mutual respect and tolerance of those with different faiths and beliefs.” It’s hard to imagine anyone getting crucified for preaching that.  

Yet Christianity is also used on the left. While he was Labour Leader in 2019, Jeremy Corbyn invoked Jesus in a call to welcome migrants: “The refugee crisis is a moral test. Jesus taught us to respect refugees. He himself said 'welcome the stranger…’ And the Bible says, 'the foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born'. 

He had done his homework. It’s a better account of the teaching of Jesus. Yet on the left, the welcome of the refugee is often part of a wider and deeper value of ‘diversity’ as a good in itself. Multiculturalism, the kaleidoscope of cultures found on many high streets with Indian, Thai, Italian, Moroccan restaurants, or the image of kids from different countries and religions happily running around a school playground is a beloved trope of secular progressive liberals.  

The trouble is that it is not how it feels to many in parts of Luton or Leicester. The residents of Hampstead and Chipping Norton can embrace multiculturalism because it does not fundamentally threaten their way of life.  

“The ebbing away of the faith is greeted with barely a fraction of the passion which accompanied Brexit.” 

Bijan Omrani

Embracing strangers is easier if you have a settled place to welcome them into. A home where the family gets on well, where the parents are united, the kids are content, is much more likely to be able to welcome in unknown guests with a proper curiosity to learn from them. A family full of tension and bickering is unlikely to welcome the stranger at all, as the newcomer will strain existing tensions even further. 

As theologian Oleg Dik writes: “A society which loses a sense of shared broad and strong identity is unable to welcome a stranger…. What makes us different is enriching only as long as we are all aware that we have something uniting us. In the absence of a uniting bond, difference turns out to be threatening.” 

The vision of the left – of diversity as an end in itself, held together only by a loose idea of tolerance or secularity which no-one thinks is worth dying for, threatens to erode the ties that bind us, as it gives no clear centrifugal core that can hold us together. 

Christianity doesn’t give you an immigration policy. Both left and right can claim some legitimacy in the Christian narrative. However, what Christianity does provide is a community that offers a moral schooling centred on the worship of Jesus, as the one who shows us the true shape of human life, the necessity of self-sacrifice, not self-indulgence as the key to a functioning communal life, and the sacred value of each person - beliefs which, in turn, can welcome the stranger into a secure and confident home.

These things have, over centuries, seeped out from their intense core in the Christian Church into wider society. Arguably today, they are being eroded ironically more by secularism than by Islam.  

The real problem of our time is not mass immigration (as the right would have it) or the failure to fully open borders (for the left). It is the widespread erosion of Christian faith.  

As historian Bijan Omrani puts it: “Christianity’s disappearance is being accepted with little consideration or debate. The ebbing away of the faith is greeted with barely a fraction of the passion which accompanied Brexit.” Now this may largely be the fault of the church itself, a failure of courage about its own message, and appearing like another social lobbying group for various causes rather than a community centred on the worship of Jesus. But it's also down to the swathes of middle class, educated Britons – like Nigel Farage and Jeremy Corbyn - who like to claim the name of Jesus when it suits, and who live off the cultural heritage of Christianity without investing into its future by going anywhere near a church.  

A good immigration policy needs the compassion that welcomes the vulnerable stranger. Yet it also needs a strong united community with a shared set of values, to welcome them into. Left and right may use Christianity in their rhetoric. But both miss something vital - that Christianity has to be practiced not just argued over. 

A renewed Christianity might be the saving of both right and left - or at least offer a deeper and richer narrative than either can offer on their own, one that provides a strong core that can holds a society together, yet also welcome the stranger as a gift and not a threat. 

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