What a Friend We Have in Jesus

People change.

Friends move away.
Start new jobs.

They meet new people and make new friends.

They get busy and stop reaching out as frequently.

They make time for things that aren’t you while you’re left wondering what you did to become last on their list. Or worse, you find yourself replaced by someone new, leaving you trying twice as hard to prove you still want to be a part of their life.

Even when you love someone, their love may not always find you in the way your heart longs for. Just like changing seasons, there are natural shifts when two people decide to do life together. And while we may not anticipate the adaptions we must make when a friendship or relationship looks different than it used to, it’s an inherent part of the human experience. There’s a fragility to life that I don’t think I’ve ever fully understood until now. When we acknowledge the delicacy of what we have, we’re more likely to value its presence in our lives. But when we see everything and everyone in our lives as invincible and bulletproof, we will let less important things unjustifiably fall into high-priority spaces.

This realization has allowed me to appreciate what I have, knowing nothing earthly lasts forever. I don’t walk through life in fear that everything I touch could break, but I see how easy it is for us to take what has been gifted by our Heavenly Father for granted. It’s shifted my perspective, reminding me that the fading of colors reveals their vibrancy in the first place. 

I find myself clinging to what’s slipping away, as if holding on tighter is powerful enough to stop the change. That’s where I often go wrong—thinking I have control. God doesn’t need our permission to remove someone or something from our lives. 

He desires our trust.

In moments of transition, loss, or uncertainty, God calls us to deeper faith and reliance on His sovereignty and plans over our lives.

We settle into this trust when we recognize that nothing we’ve had has ever truly been ours to begin with. As Psalm 24:1 reminds us–

The earth is the Lord’s, and all its fullness,

The world and those who dwell therein.

I’ve come to know this truth intimately, walking through both the seasons of God’s giving and His gentle taking away. I’ve weathered job losses and watched friendships drift as life pulled us apart. But nothing could have prepared my heart for the ache it would endure this summer.

I lost someone who once felt like home—someone whose presence was a light in my life, whose comfort and closeness made me feel like I could tell them anything. Now, that same person who once lifted me up has become the dry kindling of most of my bad days.

I understand that my quieter, slower-paced season may not align with someone else’s busier, more active chapter. For months, I blamed myself, convinced that the silence and distance were somehow my fault. But sometimes, two paths simply begin to fork. Even though I didn’t anticipate the tidal waves that would develop from this divergence, I’m learning that it’s okay to feel the impact.

It’s okay for me to hurt.

It’s okay for me to grieve.

It’s okay for me not to be okay.

One Sunday, as I was knee-deep in grief from the unexpected fallout of my best friend’s decision to ignore me in a way I could not (and still don’t) understand, we sang the song– What a Friend We Have in Jesus.

As tears gathered in the corners of my eyes, I found myself unable to stand from the overwhelming rush of love I felt covering my grief at that moment. I felt like a child unwilling to give up something I knew was pointless to cling to. I was gripping onto the comfort of an earthly friendship that once brought me so much joy. Because once I let it go, would that be the end? Would I have to say goodbye? What if pretending I could hold Hurt in one hand and Hope in the other was easier?

What this song said to me that day was so impressionable on my soul that I often wonder if the words would have penetrated as profoundly if my heart hadn’t been recently torn apart. Open wounds can be receivers of infection, but they are also gateways for the tender touch of Jesus’s love to heal–

What a friend we have in Jesus,

all our sins and griefs to bear!

What a privilege to carry

everything to God in prayer!

O what peace we often forfeit,

O what needless pain we bear,

all because we do not carry

everything to God in prayer!

Have we trials and temptations?

Is there trouble anywhere?

We should never be discouraged;

take it to the Lord in prayer!

Can we find a friend so faithful

who will all our sorrows share?

Jesus knows our every weakness;

take it to the Lord in prayer!

Are we weak and heavy laden,

cumbered with a load of care?

Precious Savior, still our refuge–

take it to the Lord in prayer!

Do your friends despise, forsake you?

Take it to the Lord in prayer!

In his arms he’ll take and shield you;

you will find a solace there.

Initially written by Joseph Scriven as a poem for his dying mother, What a Friend We Have in Jesus has become a beloved hymn we often sing as a testament to the overwhelming, sustaining love we find in Christ.

This song is a heavy reminder that just like I need the air I breathe, I must go to my Heavenly Father and release–

Everything I’ve attempted to carry. 

All the pain I try to bear alone.

Each grief-filled, tearful thought.

In a relationship with Christ, I feel the complete freedom to come undone and uncoil from all the complex expectations I’ve adopted.

My inner commotion is invited to the table.

My refusal to relinquish what I’ve been holding on to isn’t excused.

Peace sits beside me and lovingly rubs my back until I get it all out.

There is no hiding when it comes to a Jesus-sized friendship—only authentic showing up, coming Just as I Am, and staying long enough for His security and solace to become like a second skin.

This song beautifully captures what happens when we don’t earnestly seek God in prayer as often as we should—O what peace we often forfeit, O what needless pain we bear. We trade the comfort and strength He offers for burdens we were never meant to carry alone, all because we don’t pour out our hearts in prayer. We keep it in, let it fester, then wonder why we’re heavy-laden.

This is why Jesus came to offer rest for our weary souls (Matthew 11:28). 

Just as neglecting time with an earthly friend can create distance, we shouldn’t be surprised when we feel far from God if we aren’t engaging with Him in constant prayer. As Paul reminds us in 1 Thessalonians 5:17, “pray without ceasing.” Prayer is our lifeline to God—the secret place to encounter His presence. Without it, we become complicit in inviting loneliness to settle into the aching gaps.

Lastly, the lyrics of this song help me understand that Jesus understands. He carries what we could never. He was despised and forsaken. Called the Man of Sorrows, Isaiah 53:3 provides a profound glimpse into the depth of what Jesus experienced for us while on Earth– 

He is despised and rejected by men,

A Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.

And we hid, as it were, our faces from Him;

He was despised, and we did not esteem Him.

Surely He has borne our griefs

And carried our sorrows;

Yet we esteemed Him stricken,

Smitten by God, and afflicted.

Isaiah powerfully reminds us that God came to us personally. Jesus entered the world to save us, willingly suffering for our salvation and bearing sin on our behalf. This intimate act of true love draws us into a love story written long before we took our first breath. Jesus came to mend the rift caused by sin—a divide we could never bridge on our own.

He met us in our brokenness.

He wore our sin as we stood as scoffers nearby.

He stepped down from Heaven to become our Savior– taking the sentence meant for us.

Though the influence to turn away from God is undeniable in a world marked by rejection and stained with separation, Jesus’ love stands as a beacon of redemption and everlasting unification.

Romans 5:8 encapsulates this profound realization: “So He came, while we were still enemies, and loved us, and gave Himself for us.” God’s love didn’t stand idly by until we realized our part in the unbelief and scorn of the Messiah; He came to save us from the spiritual mess we made. We were offered a version of companionship our souls had never known.

Companionship that could never compare– one that connects us to the Father and carries us through the chaos of life.

His selflessness saves me.

His presence protects me when I’m being tossed at sea.

His consistency comforts me amidst the chaos of change.

His compassion incites me to be kinder, softer, and more forgiving to those who hurt me.

Even amid the good aspects of friendship, we must never forget What a Friend We Have in Jesus—a friend who steps into our lives with transcendent love, a devotion that doesn’t fade over time, and the grace to lift us whenever we turn to Him.