Please, Don’t Hit That Button!

The statistics tell the story of the age we live in.

The median length of time a person:

• Owns a home – 9 years.
• Attends a church – 7 years.
• Works for a company – 4 years.

I am a 12-year guy, whether I am walking down my street, worshipping at church, or sitting in a meeting at work. It doesn’t seem like so much time has passed until I look at all the new faces around me.

These statistics aren’t too surprising. We live in an age that is perfecting instant gratification. With little more than a thought, you can change your circumstances.

If your home, church, or employer no longer meets your needs, then you can accept any of dozens of digital invitations. Once you have made your selection, just hit your reset button.

More and more of my friends are deciding that a new start would be refreshing. They are leaving their pasts behind. The boredom of routine or an ongoing frustration that is magnified by a personal hurt can be enough to spur them into action. They want a better life, and the button promises it. New beginnings, new people.

But is it an improvement or a nuclear option?

A good friend of mine at work recently determined that he wasn’t part of the “inner circle” and quit to pursue a new job with a new company. He chose to walk away from the many friendships he had built. In the end, they weren’t enough to prevent him from pursuing something new. He hit his reset button.

A family just left our church to join another one in the same town. We met a decade ago and helped raise each other’s kids. Churches aren’t a perfect haven from conflict though. Eventually, I guess they had enough. They have pressed their reset button and are starting over too.

I had hoped to share my future days with the now-former-coworker and recently-departed-church-family.  I imagined we would always be together, pursuing new adventures while we offered each other a sympathetic heart and ear. Their absence leaves a void not just in me but in all the lives they routinely touched. They are still inside my phone, but mostly outside of my life. I miss them.

I accept responsibility for the times that I was the source of their frustration. I also accept responsibility for the times that I didn’t do enough when they were struggling. I’m not giving up on either of them yet though. I will try to find a way to let them know how much they are loved and missed. Maybe there is a way to undo a part of the reset.

As my 12-year streak extends, I am placing more value on the people who have been in my life for a long time. We may have seen the worst of each other’s brokenness, but we have also seen the special spark Jesus designed into each other. My new friendships don’t offer that.

In Sunday School, we used to sing “Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver, and the other gold.” If you are already one of my friends, then you are as valuable as gold to me, and one of the most special things in my life.

I will try to become better at telling you how important you are to me and even work on showing you more often. I can’t always prevent the hurt, but maybe I can be the encouragement that arrives when you need it most. I pray that the voice of hope will be stronger than the allure of the reset button.

If the button is calling out to you today, please tell me. Or just stop by. Let’s work on building a bright future together.