God Chooses Your Friends

Nick and I spent three days at the American International School in Israel last week, chaperoning a Model United Nations conference. The event was almost entirely student-run, so we didn't have many responsibilities other than ensuring our students went to bed at a decent hour and made the bus on time each morning.

The conference participants were impressive. The official language for all committee sessions was English, but out of 500 students present, very few spoke it as their first language. I heard a girl answering someone else about what languages she spoke fluently. I lost count at six.

Because of its location, this Model UN conference has a special committee, focusing on the Palestinian-Israeli conflict. About 30 students of various backgrounds discussed issues surrounding the conflict and together proposed ideas for progress and reconciliation. I heard them saying things like "I had no idea that's what it was like to be a Palestinian." You could see them really imagining life as the "other" person and realizing that this knowledge was significant and changed the ideas they once assumed to be true.

On a more entertaining note, Nick and I couldn't help but joke about the style of dress modeled throughout the conference. It was a striking reinterpretation of business professional, as only high schoolers could pull off. Tailored jackets and button-up tops were paired with mini-skirts, patterned nylons, and stilettos or the ever-popular ankle boot that, let's be honest, does not flatter most women. Coming from our very conservative community where most women cover their hair and everything else from the neck down, it was a bit of shock. Our girls looked like nuns in comparison.

One of the surprises of the trip was being split up for rooming. Apparently it was easier for the conference planners to just pair up all the chaperones by gender. So much for our sharing toiletries. Nick roomed with an American who teaches at a Baptist school in Nazareth. They quickly traced some mutual connections including foods they love and miss from the States and pastors whose sermons they podcast—it's funny what immediately bonds you with someone. We saw Randy throughout the conference and had several chances to get to know him better. During one of our conversations he made the comment "God chooses your friends here." His words immediately rang true and summed up our own experience these last six months.

If I think about my close friendships from the States I would say that there is a certain degree of naturalness to each one. These friends and I were simply drawn to each other. If we had a shared experience, it wasn't just the experience itself that bonded us but that we responded in a similar way to the event. Maybe we discovered we thought about God in a like manner or laughed at the same things. Most of the time it was nothing more than an instant, intangible connection. The easiest way to describe it is that my friends just "get" me; we understand each other naturally with little effort. A conversation with one of them involves multiple "yeah, of course, I understand what you're saying" moments even if only a couple words have been shared. There is the very secure feeling that this person understands and knows me and vice versa.

I haven't had many conversations of this kind since being here. In fact, I frequently come away from a conversation wondering why it was so laborious; why it seemed so difficult to understand or really get to know each other. It's not because of anything lacking in the other person. It's just that the instant connection isn't there. It takes more work. Some of my closest friendships from back home have certainly grown out of a lot of "work," but I've never experienced a time when the majority of my relationships seemed to require this kind of uphill persistence. I was beginning to tire of making the effort. That's why hearing Randy's comment and observing the attitude he has adopted during the last three years were so energizing for me. He had found the right way—the productive way—to think about this situation.

Our community in Jerusalem is small. I can either complain about the difficulty in making friends, or I can accept that God has already chosen my friends for me. The latter view makes me think a lot less about what I am getting from these relationships and much more of what I can give to them.