3:12:72 (A Friendship Formula)

Over the past decade or so I've been trying to live out my friendships according to a formula that was modeled for me, and you, many years ago.  I call it 3:12:72.  It's a formula that helps me keep relationships and people in proper perspective.

3:12:72 was first modeled for me, and you, waaaaaaay back in the day of Jesus. Yep, I had to bring him into this.  But I want, and need, to give credit where credit is due so he's part of this.  Jesus had his three, his twelve, and then his seventy-two.  The 72 might be a few more or a few less, no biggie. I don't want to get tangled up in details that don't actually matter. *grin*

The 72 came and went and most likely included people who were part of the parables Jesus used to teach others.  These were people who liked Jesus, they were intrigued and moved by his teachings, they felt a pull toward his radical ideas.  But they were also people who had families and businesses and communities that thought they might be a wee bit strange.  So these people came and went. Sometimes they traveled with Jesus for a few days, maybe even a week, but then the pull of life took them back to their homes.  I do think that each time they were pulled toward Jesus and then pushed back home they took Jesus and his radical ideas back into their communities where discussions and ponderings continued about this man tromping around saying and doing some pretty crazy things.

The twelve: Peter, James (son of Zebedee), John, Andrew, Philip, Thomas, Bartholomew, Matthew, James, Simon the Zealot, Thaddaeus-Judas, Judas Iscariot.  Out of the *72* the twelve were picked by Jesus.  He specifically called them by name and they went. They were compelled in a deeper way than the group they came out of to trust this crazy guy just a bit more. Their families understood, their businesses kept running from the help of others, their communities maybe even were a little impressed that they were called by the crazy, yet super cool, dude stirring up the pot with the Pharisees.  They thought a little more about the things they were hearing and seeing. They asked questions and wrestled while traveling with this man.  They weren't willing to go back to what life had been without Jesus in it.

And then there were the three: Peter, James (son of Zebedee), and John. The three who were also part of the 12.  Yes, Jesus was God but Jesus was also man.  And as all wo/men know, we click with some more than we click with others. And it's okay, it really is.  So these three Jesus clicked with a little more and in different ways than the other 9.  And it really was okay. These three got *it*.  They had a potential in them that Jesus knew he could trust. They might have done or said stupid things from time to time but they got Jesus. Peter, I always feel the closest to him, summed up this deeper devotion to Jesus well when this conversation happened:
When Jesus came to the region of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, “Who do people say the Son of Man is?” They replied, “Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, Jeremiah or one of the prophets.”
“But what about you?” he asked. “Who do you say I am?”
Simon Peter answered, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”
And then this conversation later on:
On hearing it, many of his disciples said, “This is a hard teaching. Who can accept it?”
Aware that his disciples were grumbling about this, Jesus said to them, “Does this offend you? Then what if you see the Son of Man ascend to where he was before! The Spirit gives life; the flesh counts for nothing. The words I have spoken to you—they are full of the Spirit[a] and life. Yet there are some of you who do not believe.” For Jesus had known from the beginning which of them did not believe and who would betray him. He went on to say, “This is why I told you that no one can come to me unless the Father has enabled them.”
From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him.
“You do not want to leave too, do you?” Jesus asked the Twelve.
Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and to know that you are the Holy One of God.”

Jesus had his three, his twelve, and his *seventy-two*. How he interacted with the people who fell into those groups serves as a model for us and our relationships today. There were appropriate levels of intimacy, interaction, and expectations as he spent time with a "3", a "12", or a "72".

Interacting with a "72" meant that expectations were lower because of things like uncertainty about this guy and all of his radical ideas, or because they didn't spend the kind of 24/7 time with Jesus to see him in all kinds of circumstances, or because there was a trust between them and him that only reached so far.  And that was okay. It meant Jesus reserved the harder teachings for the 12, it meant that he wasn't going to reveal the Kingdom of God in its total reality to others outside of the 12, and he wasn't going to call the 72 by name and ask them to drop their nets and follow him on land.  It was all okay.  Each "72" he interacted with never felt slighted or like Jesus reserved himself from them. He still made the interaction personal, warm, unique but with boundaries.  And boundaries are okay.

We got to see the interactions with the twelve.  We have been able to witness how Jesus opened himself up to them and shared deep and hard things with love. He led them, he loved them, he did what he could to draw out their potential, he placed trust in them when others questioned it, he broke bread with them, he walked with them, he lived out a fulfillment of the Law for them.  And yet, even with these precious men he drew boundaries. He would go off to pray, sometimes none were invited and other times only three were invited. With the nine he gave important tasks and spoke about important things but sometimes the three got a little more.  He didn't have expectations of complete loyalty to him from the 12.  He knew, without them knowing at times, that some would struggle and did struggle with him and what he was saying and doing.  And yet he loved them and lived life with them and kept his expectations of them realistic with the help of boundaries. And boundaries are okay.

Then there were three. These three got to witness some pretty spectacular things with Jesus. They got invited on special hikes, sacred garden spots, and tasked with being proxy children. They weren't perfect but Jesus knew he could trust them 100%, he knew stuff about them they didn't know about themselves. He built his kingdom on them. He told them far more than he told anyone else because he knew they would keep it to themselves until the time was right. They might have messed up from time to time but he knew they loved him. His expectations of them were a bit higher because he knew they would live up to them even if they didn't know it yet.  He could look at any of the three and they could understand what he wasn't saying. The other nine couldn't read him that well.  It's okay, Jesus didn't want or need everyone to read him that well. And even with these three he had boundaries but they were different and less reserved.  And boundaries are okay.

*You* are a pretty smart person, I'm guessing *you* have figured out the model by now.  Our relationships fall into the 3:12:72 and we are someone's 3, 12, or 72.

In my relationships with people they always start off as a "72".  Some stay there and others move closer to the 12 kind of relationship.  Very few are in my 3 zone. And that's how it should be. The 3 zone shouldn't be crowded.  A three in my life is someone who has loved me despite me. Who has lived through my ugly and painful times with me and still I have somehow managed to keep them as a friend.  As the book of Ecclesiastes points out, there is a season for everything. And that extends to even the 3:12:72 formula.  Some people in my life have gone from being a 3 to bypassing 72 never to be seen or heard from again. You know what?  That's okay. It's okay that there are seasons of relationship and that every now and then people in my life shift and I have to readjust expectations and interactions.  I have to do it with people and they have to do it with me.  Sometimes we are aware and other times it happens without awareness.  The older I get the more I understand that it's okay. It's okay to be in and out of season with people, it's okay to have boundaries and stick to them, it's okay to reevaluate someone and adjust accordingly.  It's really okay, and actually it's really the most healthy.

I didn't realize at first that I was modeling this formula for relationships, it just happened.  But once I realized what I was doing and why, I understood the relief I had been feeling. I understood why it had become easier for me to be in relationship with more difficult people.  I was able to approach people and even situations with a clear perspective on expectations of that person and myself in regard to that person because of who they were in my life; a "72" I don't expect a whole lot from, I keep that relationship to the basics with maybe a more personal tidbit thrown in here or there. But I always attempt to interact with that person in a way that doesn't make them feel like they are "just a 72."  A "12" I still attempt to keep fairly low expectations of but I have noticed that I can trust them with the personal parts of me a bit more. So I share a little more deeply.  And a "3"?  Well they know the good, the bad, the ugly and still seem to like me!  It always awes me a bit.  I'm one of the most unlikeable people I know. But my three's seem to be blinded to that. I am grateful.  Everyone needs some three's.  Everyone needs some of all the 3:12:72 because I have experienced that having some of all provides us with balance and perspective. And we all could use a little more of that, couldn't we?

Vodka and Jesus

"What are you guys still doing up," asked my brother, arriving home from a Yankee's game he, Dad, and Brad went to.

"We are drinking vodka and talking about Jesus," was my sister-in-love's reply.

Let me explain how that came to be...

Earlier that afternoon we went to get mani/pedi's.  On the way home we ducked into the liquor store on the corner of First and 86th, heading back to the section we wanted. Before us was a wide variety of flavors. Birthday Cake, Cotton Candy, Chocolate Covered Strawberries, Pineapple Coconut, Root Beer Float, Blueberry, the one we wanted - Salted Caramel, and so many more.
We made the purchase and crossed the street to the apartment.  Stowing it in the freezer with a plan for later we went about our girls night with delicious vegan food and wine.  We laughed and talked and shared stories about my brother with my soon to be sister-in-love.  Mama and Adele left for their respective beds, Rebecca and I grabbed the bottle from the freezer, plopped a couple of ice cubes in two glasses, and poured a nightcap of Salted Caramel Vodka for ourselves.  We folded our legs under us, swirling our glasses, sipping, and chatting.  And Jesus somehow found his way into our conversation.

Jesus is a "forbidden" topic in my extended family.  Years ago, on the eve of Paul and Rebecca's wedding, my brother made a family rule that we all agreed to.  No politics, no religion.  Leave those off the table and out of discussion and we'll all get along just fine.  Can't mature adults discuss these topics and agree to disagree?  One would think so but we hadn't yet seen a successful practice of that in any of our circles.  With our diverse thoughts and opinions on those two hot button topics we figured it best to shelve them, permanently, during family times.  And it's worked rather well for us over the years.  There's been a divisive moment or two between siblings and sometimes we have broached politics with permission granted but generally we steer clear of those things, at least in large group conversations, and find plenty of other topics for discussion.

But my sister-in-love, Rebecca, and I can talk about Jesus openly and be okay, better than okay, with one another.  And so we have, over the years, discussed faith and religion, God and Jesus, spiritual matters. She's been privvy to some of the more private moments of my faith transformation in the past few years. She has confided in me her thoughts about raising children with a sense of spirituality and what that might look like among her own personal thoughts about God.

As we swirled and sipped our Salted Caramel vodka Jesus came up.  He had already made a briefer appearance earlier that day so it was natural to bring him back in to the conversation.  She asked me questions about my recent expressions of faith and for the first time with anyone other than my husband I answered the questions and was able to give a halfway intelligent reason for the why's .  We talked about expectations I may have of others and she knew I was honest when I said I had none, these were my convictions and I didn't want or feel the need to force them on anyone else, even my own children and husband.  She asked more questions, I gave answers best I could.  She shared with me some thoughts and ideas she had been mulling over recently.  We found common ground in each other's thoughts about faith, God, and Jesus.  We discovered, with Jesus between us and vodka in our glasses, that we are walking similar directions in matters of faith.  Our paths appear very different but the core of our journey is so similar it feels comfortable to one another.

Then Paul came home and the conversation wrapped up.  Glasses were drained, put away, the bed was pulled out for me and we all laid down for the night.  And I laid there thinking about Jesus and vodka and smiling over the road Rebecca and I walk together in matters of faith.  Maybe it was the vodka that warmed me that night but maybe it was the presence of Jesus in our conversation and relationship also.

How about you?  Do you have someone in your life that you can sip vodka with and discuss Jesus?  Maybe it's not vodka, maybe it's coffee, but do you have someone you can be open with?  Who feels safe to be honest with about confidences in faith and doubts in faith? 

Are you scandalized that Jesus participated in a conversation where alcohol was being consumed?  If so, why?  Does it disturb you that we have a family rule of no religion, or politics, talk?  If so, why?  

The Vulnerability of Feet

Recently our home church decided to invade comfort levels and wash each other's feet.  It ended up families washed each other's feet while the other families observed.  We need to take baby steps (pun intended) with this whole command.  Yep, it's a command given to us by Christ.

Frankly, it is a little unnerving to consider.  And what's weird about that is that I am all about getting a pedicure, I have no qualms about a perfect stranger touching my feet.  I don't mind my husband rubbing my feet either.  But washing them?  I start to pull back a little.  There is something oddly intimate about someone else washing my feet.  It places me in a position of vulnerability and that is very unnerving.  And as I watched other people getting their feet watched I felt vulnerable on their behalf.

What is it about feet that exposes us to others, to even ourselves?  Perhaps it is that feet are so unique, filled with personality and character.  They can be, and are, beautiful - ugly - bony - chubby - cracked - smooth - calloused - tough - sensitive - small - large - smelly.  And to expose them to someone else feels like we are exposing them to all of those things that are true of us as well.  We can be, and are, beautiful - ugly - edgy - curvy - cracked - smooth - calloused - tough - sensitive - smelly.  And we pull back when we don't want others to see and know that about us, even our spouses.

When I held my foot out to my husband I instinctively curled my toes inward as if drawing back.  It's possible I even drew my foot back a bit but he had a grasp on it by that point so he kept it over the bowl. He poured the water over it and then took the towel to dry it off.  Such intimacy.  And with others watching it made it just a tad more unnerving.  There was nervous twittering the entire time from all of us there. It's uncomfortable to take part in and observe such an intimate act.

I imagine the disciples felt similar when Jesus stripped off his outer garments, tied a towel around his waist, and knelt down on the ground at the dusty and smelly feet of the men who had followed him for the last three years.  I imagine there was nervous twittering and an insecurity at Jesus touching the rough and calloused feet.  But Peter, as usual, was the only one bold enough to speak out loud what I think all of them were thinking, "Lord, you are going to wash my feet?" Jesus answered in the affirmative and Peter, as usual, came back with, "No!  You should never wash my feet!"  Imagine telling Jesus no.  Oh wait.  We do, everyday. We tell him no everyday.  We, like Peter, lose sight of who is knelt down at our feet.  We forget the past years of learning at his feet.  We curl our figurative toes inward to draw away from the one who wants to wash us clean.  We protest with voices that tremble with insecurity and fear at being found in such a vulnerable position.  And Jesus, with grace in his voice and love in his eyes, says to Peter, and to us, "Unless I wash you, you have no part with me."  Now I confess I am not near as bold as Peter who then, as usual, took it all the way, "Well then Lord don't stop at my feet!  Wash all of me!"  Poor Peter.  He gets a lot of flack from the pulpit for his bold statements and actions.  But I see and hear zeal in Peter. He is zealous for the Lord.  He loves Jesus more than he may even realize.  He believes even if he isn't quite sure what that belief means or will cost him.  I like Peter, I relate to him.  I, too, feel zeal for my Lord.  But I'm not bold like Peter.  I draw back and take a slower approach.  Jesus corrects Peter, and perhaps us, "No Peter.  You don't need a full body wash, you are clean except for your feet.  Washing your feet fulfills the need." Peter quiets down and we can assume he then placed his feet in the hands of Jesus.

I understand the vacillating.  I pull back from Jesus, unwilling to let him see and touch my insecurities and flaws.  He tells me that if I don't allow him in those places then I will have no part with him so I throw everything I have at him in desperation to be part of him.  He has to pull me back to a balance and reminds me that he only asked for specific insecurities and flaws, not all of it. He knows what I don't.  Eventually we'll get to the place where he has touched every insecurity and flaw but we'll take baby steps to get there (pun intended).

If I can't get vulnerable with the One who created me then I'm really going to have a tough time getting vulnerable with people. And I see the struggle in me.  I vacillate with people - my husband, my besties, my community.  I want vulnerability and sometimes I'm able to get there but a lot of times I curl my heart inward and start to pull back.  It is a lot of steps forward and backward but Philippians 1:6 says I have as much time as God determines I need to be called "complete" and since I see being complete includes allowing all of me to have been exposed and cleansed by Christ I guess I'm going to have to be patient in the process, and allow grace to wash over me...and my feet.