When You’re the Only One Who Calls: Taking Initiative in Friendships
After I had my first baby, I left my job in central London to stay at home with him. As an introvert, I was happy to forego the rush-hour trains and open-plan office, but being home alone with a baby all day soon got old, too.
Talk about lonely.
Monday mornings, I would stare at my empty calendar and glance down at my silent phone. The realization dawned: if I didn’t call someone and arrange to meet up, I would be alone the whole week.
Sometimes I texted people, and we hung out, and it helped. But as another Monday rolled around, I wondered: if I never made the first move, how much time would pass before I saw anyone? The insecurity was intense.
Does anyone remember me?
I had mom friends at church, but their tight-knit friendships stretched back to college days. I was twenty-nine years old and yet somehow felt nine again, standing on a dusty kickball field while team captains deliberated.
Will anyone pick me?
A Universal Battle
Becoming a mother brings a certain kind of loss. Friend groups may change. Schedules shift. Capacities vary. Whether we’re home alone with a baby, juggling work responsibilities, or shuttling older kids and teens around to activities, we can often go long periods without true soul connection. Even in the evenings, kids’ bedtime routines—or our own pure exhaustion—may limit the time we can spend with friends.
Connection often doesn’t come easily anymore, not like it did when we were six. We have to fight for it.
For me, the problem came when it felt like I was the only one fighting.
Friendship Gone Wrong
The Bible doesn’t give much page space to Adam and Eve’s relationship before the fall, but I often wonder what it was like. It would’ve perfectly imaged the friendship they had with God. Gentle care. Kind words. Repeated selflessness.
There were no misunderstandings or hurt feelings. No miscommunication, no conversations tainted by selfishness, insecurity, or pride. No assuming the worst about each other.
Neither of them pouted in a secluded part of the garden, wondering why the other hadn’t come to hang out yet.
Cue the fall. Maybe the sin and pain we now bring into every relationship is most obvious with our spouses and children, but it worms its way into friendships, too. We eye our silent phones, annoyed we’re the ones having to call first—again. We wrestle with the same thoughts on repeat:
Why am I the only organized one who plans ahead?
If I never call her, I’m pretty sure the next time we see each other will be in heaven.
Does she even care about this friendship?
The thing is, as we lament unmet expectations in friendship, we may be forgetting one vital way to be a true friend.
The Most Faithful Friend
Imagine if Jesus waited for his disciples to approach him, asking to follow him around. They’d probably have never left their fishing boats or tax booths. Sure, others eventually followed him after they saw his miracles and heard his teaching, but the ones who became his closest friends? He found them first.
He called them first.[1]
Whenever it feels like we’re the only ones taking initiative, we can remember how Jesus took initiative with us. He remembered us. He picked us. He left heaven to come after us, to die for us even while our sin separated us from him.[2]
Because the ultimate Friend pursued us in love, we can trust him with our own loneliness. And we can learn to love as we've been loved—looking beyond ourselves and extending compassion, patience, and forgiveness to others.[3]
So whenever those irritated questions take root in our hearts, let’s acknowledge our hurts but start by assuming the best about a friend who never calls:
I haven’t heard from her in a while. I wonder if she has a lot on her plate right now. How could I help her out?
Is there a loving way to discuss our friendship expectations and perhaps communicate how things feel one-sided?
Maybe she doesn’t have the margin for this relationship at the moment. Who else might I pursue for friendship instead?
If we can tear our gaze away from our own insecurities or hurts, others’ needs will become more obvious. Because the truth is, at some point our capacity may change, and we’ll need a similar kind of grace. Life might get so overwhelming or busy that we forget to call. How grateful will we be then for that friend who reaches out?
Friends Forever
Even our sin-tainted, finite friendships this side of heaven can foster hope in what’s to come. When we finally stand whole before God’s throne, our relationships with each other will be perfect once more. No more hurt feelings over silent phones. No more lonely Mondays. We’ll enjoy true communion with our Savior and each other, the way God always meant us to.
Until then, let’s imitate Jesus in all of our relationships. As we follow his lead, we can show a lonely world the kind of gospel love which makes the first move, again and again.
[1] Matthew 4:18–22
[2] Romans 5:8
[3] 1 John 4:19
