Befriending Is Leadership
A week or so ago, I was tired.
Hosting the first annual Befriending Summit—paired with the weight of the world—had just about depleted me. I needed rest. So, contrary to my usual Sunday routine, I stayed home and watched the African Nations Soccer Cup Final between Senegal and Morocco.
The game had all the drama—on and off the pitch—that makes moments like these unforgettable. What brought me the most joy wasn’t just the match, but the WhatsApp thread buzzing with childhood friends scattered across the world. The commentary, the banter, the shared excitement—it stirred memories and gave me a fleeting sense of home.
When the game ended, I stepped outside.
And not a single soul around me knew about the match. Or the controversy. Or the joy I was carrying.
I was alone in it.
Alone in my joy. Alone in my experience.
Slowly, joy gave way to sadness. Sadness to defeat. A familiar thought crept in: It will always be this way. A one-way relationship. Me adapting. Me learning American ways. Me reaching.
I ended the day right where I started.
Then grace met me—unexpectedly—through a prayer attributed to Saint Francis of Assisi:
“O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.”
The words steadied me. They recalibrated how I was interpreting my experience. They reminded me that the effort to reach out—to be curious, to extend myself—was not wasted.
That belonging, at least the kind that heals, is often intertwined with sacrifice.
Countercultural as it may sound, it reminded me of something essential:
Befriending is leadership.
It can feel lonely.
It can feel thankless.
And yet, it remains a force for good and for healing.
In times of political unrest, protest, and deep uncertainty, this prayer feels especially relevant. It invites us not to grow weary of befriending—whether the ungrateful, the well-adjusted to privilege, or even those we might be tempted to call enemies.
It is a narrow path.
But it is a path that leads to life.
Love this. Thanks friend.
Ironically, on Sunday I completed my tenure as president of our church’s board. It was the final congregational meeting I would preside over and our pastor stated he wanted to begin the meeting with some worship song. I felt led to request a song that only a few people knew, the Prayer of St. Francis. I wonder how the Spirit works, that you and I were both called to reflect on the same seldom sung song.