What Jesus’ Relational Circles Tell Us About the Way We Connect.
A short pastoral reflection on following Jesus in ordinary life.
Meaningful relationships do not all carry the same depth, purpose, or responsibility. And they were never meant to.
I don’t use the phrase “best friend” much. I never really have — not in high school, not in college, not in twenty-five years of ministry. That’s not because I’m distant or guarded. I’m pretty much an open book with most people – except for the deepest places of responsibility and weakness. There are some who just can’t handle that level of transparency from their pastor. I learned that boundary the hard way.
What I’ve come to see is that meaningful relationships don’t fit neatly into a single category — and they shouldn’t.
When I married Sharon, I didn’t marry my “best friend”. That’s not a criticism of couples who describe their marriage that way. But I pursued her as a potential wife from the moment I met her. That’s a different kind of commitment entirely — one rooted in intentionality and mission from the very beginning. It’s profound and textured in ways that “best friend” language just doesn’t hold.
Over the years, I’ve come to see that meaningful relationships are built on a few consistent things: vulnerability, time, intentionality, and shared mission. But here’s what matters — these elements don’t look the same in every relationship, and they aren’t supposed to.
There is a piece of me I share with very, very few men. Maybe one or two people in my life right now — someone with whom I hold nothing back. The depth of trust, time, and vulnerability there is genuinely different from what I share with most. Raw exposure of heart, mind, sensitive subjects, interests, humor. There are very few people who actually want that, who can carry it, or who are willing to reciprocate it.
Then there’s my son. Twenty-seven years of history, trust, relationship, and blood between us — that is deeply meaningful. But there are certain things I protect with him, not because I don’t trust him, but because I’m his father. Some knowledge doesn’t serve our family well. That’s not less real. It’s faithful stewardship of the relationship.
Not every circle can hold everything. Depth is not distributed equally — it is given wisely.
Look at Jesus. He had the multitudes. He had the hundred and twenty. He had the twelve. He had Peter, James, and John. And within that inner circle, He had John — the disciple whom He loved. Even among the three, the relationships were not identical. He walked differently with each of them. He related differently. The circles got smaller. The intimacy deepened. Each relationship served a different purpose.
This wasn’t favoritism. It was faithful presence given according to what each relationship could actually hold. Love is not measured by equal access, but by faithful presence rightly ordered. Wisdom does not flatten relationships into sameness. It shepherds them according to calling, trust, capacity, and season.
Love is not measured by equal access, but by faithful presence rightly ordered.
I claim eighty-plus men in brotherhood at Crossroads. Those relationships matter deeply. But real intimacy requires time, presence, trust, and shared life. The circles narrow, and that narrowing is not a failure of love. It is the shape of it.
Are you cordial with everyone and genuinely vulnerable with no one?
There are people you work alongside where meaningful connection looks different than it does in a CAREgroup. There are leaders you trust deeply but engage with differently than others. There are younger men I shepherd where the vulnerability flows more in one direction — that’s appropriate. Stage of life, experience, and role all shape what a relationship can actually carry.
One level isn’t better than another. They’re just different, and each one serves a different purpose in the body of Christ.
Paul’s prayer for the Thessalonians is precise: “And may the Lord cause you to increase and abound in love for one another, and for all people, just as we also do for you,” (1 Thessalonians 3:12). Notice he doesn’t command love here — he prays for it. Love that abounds is a gift of grace before it is an act of will. We don’t manufacture it by trying harder. We receive it, and then we steward it.
Notice also the two directions Paul names: for one another and for all. There is an inward circle and an outward reach, and Paul holds both in the same breath. Abounding love is not love without shape — it is love that fills every circle it has been given, each one according to its depth and purpose.
Some people stay cordial with everyone and vulnerable with no one. Others try to manufacture the same level of intimacy with six or eight people when their life cannot actually sustain it. Both patterns leave us relationally thin.
The invitation is simpler than either extreme. Be willing to forge various levels of meaningful relationship with different people — because we all carry different gifts, we’re in different seasons, and we bring different histories and experiences to the table.
You don’t need to qualify or quantify a best friend. You need people. You need to be willing to go deeper with someone — maybe multiple someones — in whatever way that relationship can actually hold. Notice who you’re cordial with and ask yourself: could I be more transparent here? Could I invest more time? Could I share more of my actual life? What is God’s purpose for this relationship?
Not with everyone. But with someone. Start there.
Faithful love is not spread thin — it is placed well.
May you be found faithful in the circles God has placed around you — going deeper where you can, and trusting that love given wisely is never love withheld.
Grace and peace,
Pastor Darryl
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