Once there were two girls, the best of friends. They played together, went to school together, and grew up together. They even made a point of attending the same college together. Nothing could separate them, or so they thought.
One day, when they were juniors, a young man in their class began showing one of the girls a great deal of attention, courting her. And because he was a good guy and her dad approved, she was more than willing to reciprocate. But because there are only so many hours in the day, this meant that there was a significant drop off in the time she was able to spend with her friend. Most of her free time was now with her suitor, and when she was with her girlfriend, she spent most of it talking about him.
Of course her friend was beside herself. There was a bit of a legitimate grievance—her friend was being a tad thoughtless, but not as much as it appeared. But there was also the jealousy for what her friend now had that she did not, not to mention resentment over what she had lost, and was missing desperately, and which her friend didn’t seem to be missing at all. At one point, the girl even found herself on the verge of flirting with her friend’s suitor—not because she wanted him, but because the courtship was the enemy and this would wreck the courtship. Of course stealing a guy from your best friend is not exactly the way to seal that friendship. But sin doesn’t make sense. If it made sense, it wouldn’t be sin.
How much she wanted to flirt with a guy she didn’t even want scared her, and so she called her mom one evening and spilled everything—how angry she was, how hurt she was, and just how wrong everything was. To her surprise, her mother was not as sympathetic as she had been expecting. “Our duties do not arise from what we want,” she said. “Just imagine the chaos.”
She had this view because the same thing had happened to her twenty-two years before . . . only she had been in the position of her daughter’s close friend. That situation had not gone well at all, and there were times when she still missed her friend. “But,” she added to her daughter. “I don’t miss your dad. He’s right here.”