The Golden City of 100 Spires at Christmas

by Scott Owings

Previous | Home | Next

December 28

On the ride home today from Terezien we stopped by the small village of Vodany to see a young friend of ours, Milan. Though Milan (and his older brother Zdenek) is from an agnostic family and still quite young, he has a spiritual maturity and a  love for people that I’ve seldom encountered. Over the past few years he has made me laugh, taught me how to pray, and perhaps best of all known when to call and what to say during my lowest moments.

When we got back into the car after a nice visit, everyone dozed off for a nap. Actually, I was ready for a little shut-eye too but when we arrived in the beer producing town of Ceske Budeovice (where we get the word and beer Budweiser) an attractive billboard caught my eye. I didn’t actually make-out the entire ad but the gist of it was a salute to good beer and good friends. Czechs love their beer, being the producers of some of the finest hops, and beer, in the world. Of course, missionaries aren’t exactly supposed to be connoisseurs of fine beer (but what about the adage, “when in Rome ... ?”). Anyway, I toasted my bottle of mineral water to Milan and silently thanked God for this special friend.

My toast to Milan also got me thinking about the whole notion of friendship. Czechs have a different perspective of friends than Americans. In America just about anybody is your friend. But not so here. Only a few people — maybe two or three — are considered to be ‘friends.’ What strikes me as odd, and perhaps a bit distressing, is the handful of Czechs over the past few years who have told Lisa or me, “You are one of my best friends.” Now I’m all for toasting with a Czech beer to such a statement but in some ways it is humbling that a Czech would look to me as one of their best friends.

While thinking about the blessing of having some Czechs among my friends, I also began to think of friends from former days — people who stood beside me, laughed with me, and most of all challenged me. I sort of wished for a Czech beer to toast these precious friends but I did begin to pray to Jesus, thanking him for the friends he has given me through the years. First of all, I thanked him for my best friend who happens to also be my wife. Truly she is a daily reminder that grace is no mere theological term. But then others came to mind — Keith, Eddie, Jason, McGown, Walker and Moore; college roomies John, Wes, David, and Joel. And then there were those precious friends (more like mentors I suppose) who I want to be like when I grow-up: Phil, the Davis, the Wigals, Bill, Andre, Kent and Leonard. Even writers, people I don’t actually know, have become my friends, especially while living in Prague. After all, they have dialogued with me and called me “further in and higher up”-- Agnes, OC, CS, Lee Anne, Eugene, Fyodor. And last of all I began to think about Jesus Christ — my savior and Lord but also, by some amazing grace, my friend.

Lord Jesus Christ, I lift up the cup of salvation to you: thank you for all my friends who pointed me to you. Thank you that you allow me to call you my friend.