In genuine friendship, moments of sincerity freckle the smooth, glowing complexion of casual goodwill and assumed common interest. Some find this unpleasant. Others, lovely.
In genuine friendship, moments of sincerity freckle the smooth, glowing complexion of casual goodwill and assumed common interest. Some find this unpleasant. Others, lovely.
Ideally, to me, genuine friendship would be very freckled… even with a scattering of pimples. And, it is possible there will even be a few silvery scars above the eyebrows that bring to remembrance lessons learned on the path of friendship. Good complexions? Likely the mark of un-genuine friendship.
Andrew and I are looking forward to coffee with you!
Yes, very freckled. I suppose that’s the thrust of the thought. A friendship can only be genuine (a polyvalent word) if the “freckles” are there. Maybe you are right to say the more, the better.
Yet the thought also indicts us. We must acknowledge that sincerity is very difficult. Our flesh would rather not hear or dwell on the truth. A human friendship can only handle so much sincerity—because we are sinners who find forgetfulness more comfortable and much easier than the constant remembrance that comes with living under grace. So the thought also makes us critique what limits we place on our friendships, makes us ask whether those limits come from our sinful preference for what is “smooth” and “glowing.”
I have a plan for a New York visit. It’s in the works, still. I’ll let you know once I know.
When you know, let us know if you need a place to know you can rest. We’ve an extra room. :-)
And give my greetings to Ethan, when next you speak with him. As I struggle in teaching math, I often think of him.