The Power of Sacrificial Friendship
Are you investing in a vital treasure available to us all?
“Friendship is the greatest of worldly goods,” wrote C.S. Lewis. Friendship is a treasure. Unfortunately, for many of us, it’s a hidden treasure, because we invest so little in it. So little time. So little attention. So little of ourselves.
But true friendship requires being all in. At its heart is commitment with a willingness to sacrifice. As Jesus told the disciples, laying down one’s life for friends is the greatest love of all (John 15:13). He demonstrated this perfect love exactly, with His sacrifice that grants eternal life to those who receive His love.
In Receive: The Way of Jesus for Men, I share a modern day story of treasured friendship, the kind that invests and sacrifices.
Sandy and Arthur
Friendship caused newlywed husband Sandy to write a $400 check to Arthur, Sandy’s best friend. It left Sandy and his wife with exactly four dollars in their checking account.
Sandy’s Jewish parents escaped Nazi Germany in 1939 and eventually settled in Buffalo, New York. He went on to become class president in high school and earned an academic scholarship to Columbia University, where he met another Jewish kid with curly blond hair named Arthur.
Sandy and Arthur decided to room together. As their friendship developed, Arthur suggested they make a pact that “if either was ever in real need, the other would have his back.” In the years that followed, both men would live up to that promise.
In his junior year, Sandy was misdiagnosed with glaucoma, and the treatment caused him to go blind. He reluctantly agreed with his parents to drop out of Columbia, since he could no longer navigate the sidewalks of New York City.
Soon, Arthur flew to Buffalo to visit Sandy and persuade him to come back: “It’s not so much that you have to come back for yourself, though you do. But I need you there. You’re my best friend, aren’t you?” He reminded Sandy of his pact to have his back. He promised to take him to his classes and read his coursework to him.
Sandy later attributed Arthur’s commitment and generosity as the key to overcoming his crisis, walking with him through darkness. Arthur even humorously referred to himself as “Darkness” when he read to Sandy. It was his way of reminding Sandy that he was with him in his dark and sightless world. In an ironic twist, “Darkness” was Sandy’s friend.
As good friends sometimes do, Arthur pushed Sandy. In Sandy’s first semester as a blind student, Arthur took him downtown to a social service agency near Grand Central Station in Manhattan. He then told Sandy that he couldn’t return to the Columbia campus just then, so Sandy would have to make it back on his own. Sandy describes it as the most harrowing two hours of his life.
He was weary and a little bruised after making the journey. Just as he was arriving at his apartment building, a curly-haired man bumped into him. “Excuse me, sir,” the man said. Immediately, Sandy recognized the voice; it was Arthur. “Darkness” had been shadowing Sandy the whole time.
A couple of years after graduation, their roles reversed. Sandy was a newlywed and studying at Oxford University in England. Arthur mentioned to Sandy that he needed $400 to record an album with one of his musician buddies. Though Sandy and his wife’s checking account had only $404 in it, the memories of Arthur reading to him for countless hours immediately prompted him to write a $400 check and send it to Arthur.
Arthur, who had started going by Art, recorded a song on that album. The first line of the song had special meaning to Sandy: “Hello Darkness, my old friend.” Art had parlayed Sandy’s $400 investment into another partnership of friends, teaming up with Paul Simon to record Simon & Garfunkel’s hit song, “The Sound of Silence.”
Breaking It Down
This true friendship story amplifies what real friendship is about. Let’s break it down and show how it replicates the success of a Level 5 Friendship.
- It starts with a real connection: For Sandy and Art, it was their shared heritage and college experiences. For me and my lifelong friend Charlie Marck, it was the fact that we lived on the same street and played football. He was a senior and a starter on the team, so his friendship meant a lot to me when I transferred into his high school. We’re still friends today. When we talk on the phone or in person, we still joke like we used to, but go even deeper.
- A shared, verbalized accountability: Before any of the trouble that came up, Art and Sandy made a pact to help each other out. That reminds me of my friend and fellow former NFL quarterback Tom Flick.
After we left football and both lost the convenience of being with friends constantly, Tom was the first guy I decided to get together with regularly for intentional weekly conversations about life. We processed stuff we were going through, ideas we had, things we were learning, and things we wanted to understand. We prayed for each other and each other’s families. We were clear about the trusting and confidential nature of our relationship. We aimed to be open books. We admitted our flaws and temptations, processed our motives, and disarmed life-killing secrets. And it’s lasted, thanks to our intentionality.
- You challenge each other: Just like Art pushed Sandy to go outside his comfort zone, Charlie and I challenged and encouraged each other to get better as athletes. In high school, we became workout buddies and ran miles and sprints, and threw the football at our high school field during the summers. Nowadays, we don’t just stay on the comfortable surface level when we talk. We always quickly get into the real and important stuff.
- You make sacrifices to see them thrive: For Art, it was helping Sandy through losing his sight, having no idea that it would one day be repaid by Sandy’s financial gift. That was the same for my friend, Chuck Obremski. He was an entrepreneur in Southern California with a wife, three kids, a Pittsburgh accent, a blue collar lexicon, and a knack for explaining the Bible.
Chuck invested time and effort in me. He talked about everything, but always with God and His Word as the foundation. He went overboard to help my family as I was traded around the NFL. Sadly, we only had a few in-person years together and a few additional ones by phone. Chuck died after an exuberant and gutsy 18-month battle with myeloma. He viewed his cancer as an opportunity to show people that life in God’s family transcends circumstances in this short life.
Chuck was more than a friend to me. He was a mentor who changed my leadership, my husbanding, my fathering, my goals, and my approach to friendship—all thanks to his many sacrifices.
Friendship shows up. It sacrifices. It walks with you through darkness—and sometimes pushes you through it. And often, its impact echoes far beyond what you can see in the moment.
Answer this question: Who are you showing up for like that?
Take Action
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