Why It’s Hard For an Evangelical to Make Meaningful Friendships
My evangelical friend told me to stop being clingy and I ended up with no one.
Alice and I became good friends in college. We were fresh out of high school and roommates, attending a private art college in Los Angeles, California. The curriculum was intense, we often pulled all nighters to finish our projects, but partly because we were also spending lots of time in Koreatown, Venice beach, and Santa Monica, living our best lives.
Finals week was notoriously difficult, and we basically lived at school, trying to complete our projects either in the computer lab, or our rented apartment garage with a sleeping bag by our side.
After finals was over, we were invited to an end-of-finals party that took place at an airport parking lot. It was exclusively for our school students and our friends, and there would be a DJ, and loads of beer. Alice and I knew each other in high school, but we were in different friend groups. I was used to house parties in the suburbs where kids just got drunk on cheap alcohol and hooked up with each other, whereas Alice, being an evangelical Pastor’s daughter, had never been to one or drank ever in her life. Nonetheless, I could tell she was excited.
On the way to the party, however, I sensed something else.
“I’m not going to drink. You aren’t going to either, are you?” she said.
We had been going to the same church. I grew up in church all my life. I had an “encounter with God” at a retreat one year and for several years I was very passionate about Christianity. Yet there was no one to guide me through my newfound fervor, and it slowly faded away. By Junior year in high school, I wasn’t much more than a Sunday church goer again.
I didn’t want to upset Alice in the car, so instead of confronting her or asking questions, I just nodded and mumbled something along the lines of “yeah, whatever.”
The sun was beautifully setting, and people had already been drinking, dancing, and enjoying themselves. We met up with some other friends, and while Alice was busy chatting with them, I snuck away and got myself a red plastic cup of beer. Having finished the finals, I was in the mood to celebrate. I wasn’t going to let anyone take that away from me.
When I came back with the drink in my hand, Alice was visibly unimpressed, and she continued to be in a sour mood. Unfortunately we had carpooled and I told her that I would like to leave, because I wasn’t about to enjoy my night at all with her acting like this.
“I deserve to be able to celebrate. I worked really hard this semester,” I said quietly.
“You are the one that’s supposed to be responsible. you are older than me,” Alice said.
We started arguing back and forth and she snapped shouting,
“you are fucking pissing me off!”
We ended up both crying all the way home.
I continued to do things that didn’t align with her values, which pissed her off. One time she called our church pastor over for an intervention when she saw me sprawled on the floor with a bottle of alcohol in my hand after I’d broken up with my boyfriend back home (I like to dramatically express myself, even now as an older adult). Each time we apologized to each other and made up, and continue our fun adventures in various parts of L.A.
One day, as I was about to take a bite out of the school cafeteria burger, I got a phone call from my mom.
She started with “I didn’t want to call you and tell you this in case it distracts you from your school work but…”
She proceeded to tell me my dad had been laid off from his job of over twenty years, and not only that, he had packed up and left to live with another woman. This was extremely shocking, given that my dad had been the most predictable, family-oriented man. My world turned upside down and I fell into a deep depression.
Alice and my church friends were there to comfort me, and I felt that this community and my faith in God was the only thing that could save me from the pain.
I started hanging out more and more with Alice’s group of Christian friends. They were part of an evangelical church and went to Jesus Culture conferences, visited Bethel church in Redding, and watched live-streams of Ihop (International House of Prayer) worship sessions. We were fully immersed in the evangelical movement led by people like Lou Engle, and learned about what our stance must be when it came to abortions, gay rights, and most importantly, Presbyterians. I started shutting out any ideas outside of our belief, and felt superior and thankful of the knowledge and mystical experiences that God revealed to me.
My relationship with Alice started to change gradually. We still had our adventures, but she wasn’t just a fun adventure buddy anymore. I considered her as my hero who helped me get back on the true path of righteousness. I subconsciously tried my best to get her approval on my every thought, belief, and action. Alice represented how I thought God might react to who I was and what I did. She did not hold back when it came to disagreeing with me, and I wholeheartedly allowed her opinions to be my spiritual compass.
Following my dad’s unemployment, I dropped out of the art school and attended a community college back in my home town. The first thing on my to-do list was to join a Christian club and meet other brothers and sisters. I found out that the club I joined consisted of members of a very conservative denomination, and had beliefs that were not in alignment with mine. Even though the people were genuinely kind and welcoming, I had already decided in my mind not to trust them completely. I thought, they didn’t know God like I did, and therefore they had nothing to teach me. I remained in the club and was polite, attended bible studies and winter retreats, but continued to keep them at an arm’s length. Some groups of Christians I met even looked down on some of the evangelical practices like healing the sick. These type of people certainly did not deserve my respect or time.
Although I tried, it was difficult to find anyone let alone a group of people that had the same view of God as me and Alice back home. Everyone seemed equally devoted to God, but it wasn’t enough for me. They simply did not have the real “truth”.
Non-Christians were even more untrustworthy. Sure, I made a few friends from class who I enjoyed hanging out with in between lectures. However, our relationships remained superficial. I did not give any of myself to them. In fact, I believed they were in my life so I can share the gospel and save them from burning in hell. I had so much to teach them, if they would only open up to me about issues in their lives. I offered to pray for them, listen to their problems, but I never reciprocated.
Slowly, I started to feel lonely.
I called Alice as I frequently did, because I had no one else to talk to. She answered and we talked for a bit. Then she quietly said,
“I think it’s time you start making some new friends.”
I had always felt that I loved Alice more than she did. Looking back, I hero-worshiped her. She must’ve thought that I was being too clingy, too dependent.
So, as usual, I agreed with her, and called her less and less.
I spent the rest of my 20s feeling lonely and wishing that I could establish a close friendship with someone but never being able to. I didn’t realize until recently, when I removed myself from church, that the problem was with me, not with other people.
The problem was me looking down on anyone who was not part of the same church denomination as me and thinking that I had the truth, and no one else. Not even other Christians.
The problem was with me putting spiritual leaders on pedestals, considering them as more mature and wise if they were 1. evangelical, 2. had mystical experiences like speaking in tongues.
The problem was with me thinking it’s impossible for me to have a deep, meaningful relationships with non-Christians, because they were just people that needed my help, my guidance.
The problem was with me, thinking that my life would be somehow be fulfilled by obediently following every rule, subscribing to every word that came out of my friend’s mouth.
The problem was ultimately with my friend and her evangelical community that taught me I was in the right doing these things I mentioned above.
The idea that they had the truth, and no one else. Not even other Christians.
It took me a couple years for me to finally feel okay with not knowing everything. Now I have the freedom to befriend anyone I want. What make people truly valuable are the lessons they’ve learned through personal experiences. I have a hunger to learn more about other people and how they got to where they are, what makes them who they are. I find joy in opening up to people more and allowing them to speak their own wisdom to me, as I offer them mine. I am now able to receive, just as I give, and experience what good friendship really means.
