Can men and women really just be friends?

By my late 20s, I assumed I had already made all the friends I would ever need. It wasn’t a deliberate decision, like saying: “Sorry, I’m no longer accepting new friend applications”, but more of a quiet belief that true and lasting friendships are formed in our formative years. 

I had tried (and failed) to secure the kind of inseparable childhood best friend that seemed to come so easily to my younger sister. I had (barely) survived the drama and cliques of high school. Eventually, I found ‘my people’ at university and church, and, later, among a group of single women I studied theology with. By the end of my 20s, I believed my friendship tanks were as full as they would ever be. My job now was to maintain those tanks, ensuring they didn’t run dry, because I assumed they would need to sustain me for the rest of my life.

And then, surprise! As my 30s slipped into my 40s, I discovered it wasn’t just my existing friends who were there for me, but also a whole raft of new and unexpected friends. Older friends and younger friends. Near friends and far friends. Work friends and church friends. Female friends and male friends.

Satan wants us to believe that our sinful desires exert more power over us than the sanctifying work of the Holy Spirit

Yes, male friends. That’s been one of the most surprising and delightful aspects of recent years – the number of men I can now genuinely call my friend.

There’s Roger, married to Leah. She’s the one I go straight to when I have a hilarious story to share, and who I can talk to for hours without either of us drawing breath. Roger is the one who calls me on my birthday and who rearranged his week to be at my stillborn nephew’s funeral. Then there’s Steve. He and I first met when I needed someone local to collect an unexpected cheese delivery from my doorstep (long story). Now, Steve and I regularly catch up over coffee or while walking laps at a nearby park.

There’s also John, who lives on the other side of the world. Despite the distance, our friendship has grown through messages, video calls and, most recently, Wicked memes. He recently described me as the “cool aunt” he loves hanging out with, although I managed to negotiate that down to “cool older sister”.

Then there’s Jordan. Sam. Ed. Rhys. Tim. Andrew. Gavin. Simon. Another Andrew. Rob. Yet another Andrew. And more. As I enter middle age, I consider it a privilege to call each of these men my friends.

But can Christian men and women who aren’t married to each other or related by blood really be friends? Or, perhaps more importantly, should they be?

The main course

In his book, The Four Loves (Collins), C.S. Lewis devotes an entire chapter to friendship. His exploration is both profound and aspirational. And yet, he begins it with a lament: “To the ancients, friendship seemed the happiest and most fully human of all loves; the crown of life and the school of virtue. The modern world, in comparison, ignores it. [For us, friendship] is something quite marginal; not a main course in life’s banquet.”

More than 60 years after Lewis penned these words about friendship’s diminished state in mid-century Britain, it seems little has changed. As Sheridan Voysey explores this month, the statistics are troubling, but they’re not the only indicator that we have a friendship problem. We’re also deeply confused about what friendship is, or perhaps, what it is meant to be.

“Let’s rescue friendship from the greedy, gluttonous grasp of selfish sex”

On one hand, we often conflate acquaintanceship with friendship. On the other, our cultural obsession with finding a ‘best friend’ leads us to idealise one friend above all others and diminish, perhaps even dismiss, the unique blessings and benefits that multiple friendships offer us. Either we’re running short on real friends, or we’re applying the term too liberally; either we feel like we don’t have enough close friendships, or we’re consumed by the pursuit of the perfect one.

Let’s talk about sex

Many of us harbour doubts, or even scepticism, about whether men and women can truly be nothing more – but also nothing less – than friends. Why? Because we live in a culture that elevates sex – or, more specifically, sexual desire – to the driving force in relationships. We’re conditioned to believe that it’s always lurking in the background, ready to take control and derail even the most platonic interactions.

C.S. Lewis found this fixation on sexualising (or, as he called it, “eroticising”) friendship both frustrating and tiresome. He wrote that the absence of erotic undercurrents: “cannot be proved, can never of course be refuted…The very lack of evidence is thus treated as evidence; the absence of smoke proves that the fire is very carefully hidden.” Tragically, this mindset is just as pervasive within the Church as outside it.

Consider the experience of Kelly, a single female friend of mine. One Sunday, not too long ago, the person leading church invited everyone to pray with those around them. Kelly turned to her left, but the man sitting there quickly turned away and began praying with his wife. The people in front of her and behind her did the same. Kelly sat there, surrounded by people, yet utterly alone. She prayed by herself. She also cried by herself.

Later, she shared her experience with a married female friend, explaining how isolating it had been. The response she received was crushing: “Well, I don’t think I would have been comfortable with my husband inviting you to pray with us either.”

To borrow Lewis’ language, there was no smoke in this situation. Kelly wasn’t looking for anything romantic. She simply wanted to pray with her brothers and sisters in Christ, as invited. Yet, because of an assumption that the spark of desire is always there, just waiting to ignite, she was silently and visibly labelled a potential seductress; a threat. 

Sadly, she’s not alone. Christian women, especially those who are single, are very often caricatured as little less than walking, talking threats to the sanctity of “good Christian marriages”. Meanwhile, Christian men, especially those who are married, are very often stereotyped as incapable of relating to any woman without seeing her as a potential stumbling block. 

How can we expect friendships between Christian men and women to exist, let alone thrive, when the atmosphere is so hostile to them? Simply put, we can’t. And that is a serious problem. Because Jesus doesn’t just teach that Christian men and women can love each other as friends – he says that we must.

The greatest love of all

In the hours before his death, Jesus was preparing his disciples for his departure. He wanted them to remain in him, to abide in his love. In the middle of his teaching, he offered a simple but profound statement about friendship: “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:13).

Here was the incarnate Son of God – through whom and for whom all things were made (John 1:3) – calling this somewhat disappointing band of disciples his friends. I’ve long been in awe, even a little intimidated, by the truth that Jesus considers his disciples (and so also, me) his friends. 

However, I recently realised my wide-eyed amazement had obscured something important about Jesus’ teaching. I had habitually turned Jesus’ words inward, centring myself in this verse. I thought it was urging me to marvel at Jesus’ sacrificial love for me, his friend, the greatest love I could ever know. 

But while this is a great thing to marvel at, it isn’t the main point. You see, the love Jesus speaks of in John 15:13 is not the love he gives us, but rather the love he has for us. To put it another way, this verse is wholeheartedly about Jesus – the greatest lover – rather than us – the recipients of the greatest love. The importance of this becomes clearer when we read the verse in its immediate context: “My command is this: love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:12-13).

“Christ calls us, in fact he commands us, to love one another as friends”

In verse 12, Jesus commands his disciples to love one another as he has loved them. And then, in the very next breath, he spells out how he has (and will) love them – as one who sacrifices himself for his friends. Did you catch it? Jesus tells his disciples that they are to love each other with the kind of love with which he has loved them. And what is that love? The deep and sacrificial love of a friend.

Friendship lies at the very heart of the greatest love of all. Christ calls us, in fact, he commands us to love one another as friends.

And so, to return to our question, can male and female disciples of Christ truly love one another as friends? Not only can we, but we must. After all, this is exactly what Jesus has commanded us to do.

Rescuing and reviving friendship

When we assume that Christian men and women cannot genuinely love one another as friends because, well…sex…we’re not just giving sin and Satan too much credit, we’re giving them exactly what they want! The “father of lies” (John 8:44) thrives on leading us away from Jesus’ teachings and commands. He delights in thwarting disciples from loving one another as Christ loved them. He revels in sowing suspicion and distrust among brothers and sisters in Christ. And he badly wants us to believe that our sinful desires exert more power over us than the sanctifying work of the Holy Spirit.

Of course, this doesn’t mean that every Christian woman should form friendships with every Christian man she meets (or vice versa). Nor does it mean we should abandon wise and discerning boundaries in friendships, especially between people of the opposite sex – or, for Christians who experience same-sex attraction, with those of their own sex.

But here’s the thing. Boundaries exist to appropriately shape relationships, not prevent them from existing altogether. Avoiding personal interaction – and ultimately, friendship – with someone of the opposite sex might feel like the ‘safest’ option. But if we are being honest, such avoidance only reveals how meagre our relational expectations and how miserly our relational hopes really are. 

It grieves me to think of what I would have missed out on – who I would have missed out on becoming – had the men whose names I mentioned earlier not extended the hand of friendship to me. Their friendship has deeply shaped me. How and why? Jesus answers that question, too. 

After teaching his disciples to love one another with the same sacrificial love of friendship he had shown them, Jesus explains why he calls this ragtag group of followers his friends. (Hint: it wasn’t because they were a group of superior human beings.) “I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you. You did not choose me, but I chose you” (John 15:15-16).

As Jesus made known to them all he learned from his Father, he also chose to make himself known to them. At the heart of friendship’s love lies an understanding and knowledge of the other that comes at their initiative. 

The men I’ve mentioned (alongside an even longer list of women) have invited me to know them. I don’t just know things about them. I know and understand them. Do I know them exhaustively? Of course not. Do I know each one in exactly the same way or to the same degree? No. Do I know those who are married in the same way and to the same depth their wives do? Certainly not, and rightly so.

But these men have proactively loved me as Christ loves us both. They have invited me to know them. In doing so, they have loved me well. And that love has played its own part in shaping, forming and moulding me into the woman the Holy Spirit is creating. In turn, I have done the same for them.

Yes, we’ve established godly boundaries, thoughtful limits and wise expectations. But I dread to think of all we would have lost if we had embraced the “better safe than sorry” mindset and ruled friendship out of the equation. What is more, I’m confident that others in their lives, whether their wives, girlfriends, family members or other friends, would agree that our friendships have, in small but meaningful ways, strengthened those relationships too. 

Friendship lies at the very heart of Christian love. So, let’s rescue it from the greedy, gluttonous grasp of selfish sex and return it to the gentle but extravagant embrace of sacrificial love. It is precisely because we delightedly sing: “What a friend we have in Jesus” that we ought also to rejoice in the possibility, indeed the necessity, of friendship with one another.