Published in: Real Relationships & Belonging

Remember when the worst thing that could happen to your reputation was getting caught lip-syncing to Milli Vanilli? Yeah, me too. Those were simpler times, my fellow Gen Xers. Times when our biggest social media worry was whether our Friendster profile accurately reflected our coolness level, and the only thing that got "canceled" was our favorite TV show (pour one out for Freaks and Geeks).

But here we are in 2025, navigating a world where one poorly worded tweet can end careers, friendships implode over political differences, and people seem to have lost the art of agreeing to disagree. As Christians trying to figure out how to love our neighbors in this climate, we're facing some serious questions: How do we hold onto our faith when the culture seems increasingly hostile to it? How do we maintain relationships when everyone's walking on eggshells? And perhaps most importantly, how do we grow and change as people without losing everyone we care about along the way?

Welcome to the intersection of personal reinvention and friendship transitions, where the gospel meets cancel culture, and where this middle-aged Christian is trying to figure it all out one awkward conversation at a time.

The Great Friendship Shuffle of Midlife

Let's start with something we can all relate to: watching our friend groups shift and change like a cosmic game of musical chairs. If you're in your 40s or 50s, you've probably noticed that your current crew looks pretty different from the one you had in your 20s, or even your 30s. Some friendships faded naturally—geography, busy schedules, or simply growing in different directions. Others ended more abruptly, sometimes over things that seemed to come out of nowhere.

I remember when my buddy Mike and I had what I now call "The Great Facebook Fallout of 2020." We'd been friends since college, bonded over our shared love of terrible 80s movies and our ability to quote The Princess Bride in its entirety. But somewhere between the pandemic lockdowns and the political upheaval, we found ourselves on opposite sides of... well, everything. What started as playful ribbing in the comments section escalated into full-blown arguments, and before I knew it, we weren't talking anymore.

At first, I was angry. How could someone I'd known for decades suddenly become so unreasonable? How could he not see that I was clearly right about everything? (Yes, I can hear my wife rolling her eyes from here.) But as time passed, I started to realize something uncomfortable: maybe this wasn't just about Mike being stubborn. Maybe I had changed too. Maybe we both had.

The truth is, personal growth—even the good kind—can be hard on relationships. When we start questioning old assumptions, developing new perspectives, or simply becoming more confident in who we are, it can threaten the equilibrium of long-standing friendships. People who knew us "when" might not know how to relate to who we're becoming. And sometimes, sadly, they don't want to try.

Cancel Culture: The New Kid on the Block

Now, let's talk about the elephant in the room: cancel culture. Depending on who you ask, it's either a necessary tool for accountability or the death of civil discourse. As a Christian, I find myself somewhere in the messy middle, trying to balance grace with justice, truth with love.

Cancel culture, at its core, is about consequences for behavior that society deems unacceptable. In theory, this isn't entirely bad—we should hold people accountable for harmful actions. The Bible is full of examples of people facing consequences for their choices. But in practice, cancel culture often lacks the nuance, context, and possibility of redemption that are central to the Christian faith.

Here's where it gets tricky for those of us trying to follow Jesus in the 21st century: we're called to love our enemies, forgive those who hurt us, and extend grace to the undeserving (which, let's be honest, includes all of us). But we're also called to stand up for justice, protect the vulnerable, and speak truth to power. Sometimes these two callings seem to be in direct conflict.

Take the friend who posts something that makes you cringe. Do you call them out publicly? Do you ignore it? Do you reach out privately? The old rules of engagement seem inadequate for our current moment, and many of us are making it up as we go along, trying to be faithful to Christ while navigating these uncharted waters.

The Gospel Alternative to Cancel Culture

This is where the gospel offers us something different—something better than both cancel culture and its opposite extreme of "anything goes." The gospel gives us a framework for dealing with failure, growth, and change that's both truthful and graceful.

First, the gospel tells us that everyone is broken. This isn't a popular message in our self-improvement-obsessed culture, but it's liberating in ways we don't always expect. When we start from the assumption that we're all messed up—including ourselves—it becomes easier to extend grace to others when they mess up too. It doesn't mean we excuse harmful behavior, but it does mean we approach correction from a place of humility rather than superiority.

Second, the gospel offers hope for redemption and change. Unlike cancel culture, which often treats mistakes as permanent character flaws, the Christian faith is built on the idea that people can genuinely change. We believe in transformation, second chances, and the power of grace to make broken things beautiful again.

But here's the part that makes this challenging: the gospel also demands truth-telling. We can't just sweep problems under the rug in the name of "being nice." Sometimes love requires difficult conversations, boundary-setting, and yes, even temporary separation from people who are causing harm.

Navigating Friendship Transitions with Faith

So how do we practically apply these gospel principles to our changing friendships? How do we handle the inevitable shifts that come with personal growth while staying true to our faith?

Start with Self-Examination

Before we get too worked up about how everyone else is changing, it's worth taking a hard look in the mirror. Are we contributing to relationship conflicts? Have we become more rigid or judgmental as we've grown in our faith? Are we listening to understand, or just waiting for our turn to talk?

I had to ask myself these questions after several friendship conflicts in recent years. What I discovered wasn't pretty: I'd become more confident in my convictions (which wasn't bad), but I'd also become less curious about other perspectives (which definitely was bad). My growth in some areas had led to regression in others.

Practice Charitable Interpretation

One of the best pieces of advice I ever received came from a pastor, who suggested that we always try to interpret others' actions in the most charitable way possible. Instead of assuming the worst about someone's motives, what if we gave them the benefit of the doubt?

This doesn't mean being naive or ignoring red flags. But it does mean choosing to believe that most people are doing the best they can with what they have, even when their best doesn't look very good to us.

When my friend Sarah started posting increasingly political content that made me uncomfortable, my first instinct was to assume she was trying to provoke people. But when I chose charitable interpretation instead, I realized she was probably just scared and trying to process a lot of confusing information like the rest of us. That shift in perspective opened the door for actual conversation instead of silent resentment.

Embrace the Season Concept

Ecclesiastes tells us there's a time for everything, and I think this applies to friendships too. Some relationships are meant to last a lifetime, weathering every storm and change. Others are gifts for specific seasons—beautiful and meaningful, but not necessarily permanent.

Learning to hold friendships with open hands has been one of the hardest lessons of my middle-aged years. It's natural to want to hold onto every good relationship, but sometimes the most loving thing we can do is let people go when they need to grow in a different direction.

This doesn't mean giving up on people easily or avoiding difficult conversations. But it does mean recognizing that not every relationship conflict is worth fighting to the death over. Sometimes people need space to figure things out, and sometimes we need to give it to them.

Set Healthy Boundaries

The gospel calls us to love others, but it doesn't call us to be doormats. Jesus himself set boundaries—he didn't heal every person in every town, he walked away from crowds that wanted to use him, and he was clear about what behavior was and wasn't acceptable among his followers.

For those of us who struggle with people-pleasing (and if you're reading a blog about relationships, there's a good chance you do), boundary-setting can feel selfish or un-Christian. But healthy boundaries actually make love possible. They protect our hearts so we can keep loving, and they protect others from the resentment that builds up when we consistently say yes when we mean no.

In practice, this might mean limiting time with friends who consistently drain your energy, refusing to engage in gossip or negativity, or being honest about topics you're not willing to debate. It's not about building walls; it's about building gates that can be opened or closed as wisdom dictates.

The Art of Difficult Conversations

If there's one skill that would revolutionize most of our relationships, it's learning how to have hard conversations well. Unfortunately, our culture has largely lost this art. We either avoid conflict entirely (and let resentment build) or we attack (and burn bridges). The gospel offers us a third way.

Lead with Curiosity

Instead of starting difficult conversations with accusations or assumptions, what if we started with genuine questions? "I noticed you seemed frustrated during our last conversation. Can you help me understand what I might have missed?" or "I'm struggling to understand your perspective on this. Would you be willing to help me see it from your angle?"

This approach requires genuine humility and a willingness to be wrong, which is why it's so hard. But it's also why it works. When people feel heard and understood, they're much more likely to extend the same grace to us.

Focus on Impact, Not Intent

One of the biggest mistakes we make in conflict resolution is getting stuck on intent. "But I didn't mean it that way!" we protest when someone tells us we've hurt them. While intent matters, impact matters more. The gospel teaches us to take responsibility for the pain we cause, even when we didn't mean to cause it.

This doesn't mean accepting blame for things that aren't our fault, but it does mean acknowledging when our actions have affected others negatively, regardless of our intentions.

Seek Understanding, Not Victory

The goal of difficult conversations shouldn't be to prove we're right or to change the other person's mind. The goal should be mutual understanding and, hopefully, preserved relationship. Sometimes we'll agree to disagree. Sometimes we'll find common ground we didn't know existed. Sometimes we'll realize we were wrong about something important. All of these outcomes are better than the alternative of damaged or destroyed relationships.

When Friendships Don't Survive the Transition

Despite our best efforts, not all friendships will survive the transitions that come with personal growth and cultural change. This is one of the most painful realities of midlife, and it's something the church doesn't always prepare us for well.

We're told that love covers a multitude of sins (which is true), but we're not always taught what to do when love isn't enough to bridge the gap between who we were and who we're becoming. We're encouraged to forgive and forget, but we're not always given practical tools for rebuilding trust when it's been broken.

Here's what I've learned about grieving lost friendships:

It's Okay to Be Sad

The end of a significant friendship is a real loss, and it deserves to be mourned. Don't let anyone rush you through the grieving process or make you feel silly for being heartbroken over a relationship that "wasn't working anyway."

Look for the Lessons

Every relationship—even the ones that end badly—teaches us something about ourselves, others, and how love works in the real world. What did this friendship show you about your strengths and weaknesses? What would you do differently if you could do it over? What are you grateful for, even in the midst of the pain?

Trust God's Bigger Plan

This might sound like a platitude, but I've found it to be genuinely comforting: God knows what he's doing with our relationships, even when we don't. Sometimes he removes people from our lives to make room for others. Sometimes he uses the pain of lost friendships to teach us important lessons about love, forgiveness, or our own hearts. And sometimes, in his perfect timing, he brings people back into our lives when we're both ready for a different kind of relationship.

Building New Friendships in a Cancel Culture World

One of the silver linings of losing old friendships is the opportunity to build new ones. But making friends as adults—especially in our current cultural climate—can feel incredibly daunting. How do we open our hearts to new people when we're still nursing wounds from relationships that didn't work out? How do we find our people in a world that seems increasingly divided?

Start with Shared Values, Not Shared Opinions

I used to think I needed to agree with people on everything to be close friends with them. Now I realize that shared values are much more important than shared opinions. I can be friends with someone who votes differently than I do, as long as we both value kindness, honesty, and treating people with dignity. I can handle different perspectives on theology, as long as we both genuinely want to follow Jesus.

This shift in thinking has opened up so many more possibilities for friendship. Instead of looking for people who think exactly like me, I'm looking for people who share my heart for the things that matter most.

Be Vulnerable First

In a world where everyone's trying to project perfection, vulnerability is revolutionary. When we're willing to share our struggles, admit our mistakes, and show our true selves, we give others permission to do the same. And authentic connection can't happen without vulnerability.

This doesn't mean oversharing with everyone you meet or dumping your entire life story on new acquaintances. But it does mean being willing to go beneath surface-level conversations and let people see who you really are.

Give People Time and Space to Grow

Just as we're changing and growing, so is everyone else. The person who seems close-minded today might be very different a year from now. The friend who's going through a difficult season might not be showing up as their best self right now, but that doesn't mean they never will.

This doesn't mean tolerating abuse or accepting behavior that's genuinely harmful. But it does mean extending grace for imperfection and allowing for the possibility that people can change and grow.

The Long View of Friendship

As I've gotten older, I've started to take a longer view of friendship. Instead of expecting every relationship to meet all my needs or last forever, I'm learning to appreciate different friends for different reasons and different seasons.

Some friends are great for deep spiritual conversations but terrible at remembering my birthday. Others are incredibly supportive during crises but not great for everyday companionship. Some challenge me to think differently; others provide comfort and stability. Some make me laugh until my sides hurt; others cry with me when life gets hard.

This isn't about using people or having shallow relationships. It's about recognizing that no single person (other than Jesus) can meet all our relational needs, and that's okay. We need different kinds of friends for different aspects of our lives, and we can be different kinds of friends to different people.

Grace for the Journey

If you're reading this and feeling overwhelmed by the complexity of modern relationships, you're not alone. Many of us are figuring this out as we go, making mistakes, and trying to do better next time. The intersection of faith and friendship in a cancel culture world is messy and complicated, and anyone who tells you otherwise is probably selling something.

But here's what I know for sure: the gospel is big enough for all of this mess. God's grace is sufficient for our relational failures, his wisdom is available for our difficult decisions, and his love can heal the wounds that come from broken friendships.

We don't have to have it all figured out. We don't have to be perfect friends or make perfect choices. We just have to keep showing up, keep learning, keep growing, and keep trusting that God is at work in all of it—even the parts that don't make sense right now.

The Beautiful Mess of Christian Community

One of the things I love most about the Christian faith is that it's honest about how hard relationships can be. The Bible is full of stories about friendships that went wrong, communities that struggled with conflict, and leaders who had to make difficult decisions about who to include and exclude.

Jesus himself experienced the pain of betrayal, the loneliness of being misunderstood, and the challenge of loving people who didn't always love him back. If the Son of God couldn't maintain perfect relationships with everyone, maybe we can cut ourselves some slack when we struggle with the same things.

But the Bible also shows us the incredible beauty that's possible when imperfect people commit to loving each other well. The early church was a mess in many ways—full of conflict, confusion, and cultural tension—but it was also a powerful witness to the transforming power of the gospel. Their love for one another, despite their differences, was what convinced the watching world that Jesus was real.

Maybe that's what our friendships can be too: imperfect but genuine witnesses to the reality of God's love. Maybe our willingness to work through conflict, extend forgiveness, and keep showing up for each other—even when it's hard—is exactly what our cancel culture world needs to see.

Moving Forward with Hope

As we navigate the changing landscape of friendship in the 21st century, I want to leave you with a few practical encouragements:

Don't be afraid to grow. Personal transformation is part of the Christian life, even when it complicates our relationships. God is always inviting us to become more like Jesus, and that process might require us to leave some things—and sometimes some people—behind.

Don't grow alone. While some friendships might not survive your personal evolution, you need community for the journey. Seek out people who will support your growth, challenge you in healthy ways, and stick around for the messy parts.

Don't give up on reconciliation. Just because a friendship is struggling doesn't mean it's over. Sometimes relationships need to go through difficult seasons before they can emerge stronger on the other side. Be willing to do the hard work of repair when it's appropriate and safe to do so.

Don't forget the bigger picture. Our friendships are important, but they're not ultimate. The gospel reminds us that our identity and security come from God's love for us, not from human approval or acceptance. This takes the pressure off our relationships and allows us to love more freely.

Don't lose hope. Even in a culture that seems increasingly divided and hostile, God is still at work. He's still bringing people together across lines of difference, still healing broken relationships, and still using imperfect people to show his perfect love to the world.

A Personal Confession

Before I wrap this up, I want to make a confession: I don't have this all figured out. Even as I write these words, I'm wrestling with friendship challenges in my own life. There are people I miss terribly but don't know how to reconnect with. There are relationships I'm not sure are worth fighting for. There are conversations I need to have but keep avoiding.

The difference between where I am now and where I was a few years ago isn't that I've mastered the art of Christian friendship. It's that I've learned to extend grace to myself and others in the midst of the mess. I've learned that it's okay not to have all the answers, as long as I keep asking the right questions. And I've learned that the gospel is big enough to handle even my relational failures.

If you're struggling with friendship transitions, relationship conflicts, or the challenge of maintaining faith in a hostile culture, I want you to know that you're not alone. We're all figuring this out together, one awkward conversation and one grace-filled moment at a time.

The Path Forward

So where do we go from here? How do we live out authentic Christian friendship in a world that seems increasingly allergic to both authenticity and Christianity?

I think it starts with remembering who we are and whose we are. We are beloved children of God, created for relationship and called to love. We belong to a kingdom that values truth and grace, justice and mercy, community and individual worth. Our identity isn't threatened by cultural changes or friendship transitions because it's rooted in something deeper and more permanent than human approval.

From that secure foundation, we can afford to take risks in relationship. We can be vulnerable, extend grace, have difficult conversations, and yes, even get hurt sometimes. Because we know that our ultimate worth doesn't depend on whether everyone likes us or agrees with us.

We can also afford to be patient with the process. Building authentic Christian community has never been easy—just ask Paul about his letters to the Corinthians—but it's always been worth it. The friendships that survive the crucible of honest disagreement, personal growth, and cultural change are often the strongest and most meaningful ones.

A Final Thought

As I finish writing this, I'm reminded of one of my favorite verses from Ecclesiastes: "Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up."

In a world that often seems designed to isolate us from one another, the call to authentic friendship is both countercultural and deeply Christian. It's an act of resistance against the forces that want to divide us, and it's a testimony to the power of love to overcome even the deepest differences.

Your friendships matter—not just to you, but to the watching world. The way you handle conflict, extend grace, and pursue reconciliation is a witness to the reality of the gospel. The way you love imperfect people in an imperfect world is a reflection of how God loves all of us.

So keep showing up. Keep having the hard conversations. Keep extending grace. Keep believing that love wins, even when it doesn't feel like it. Keep trusting that God is at work in all of it, even the messy parts.

The gospel and cancel culture don't have to be enemies. In fact, the gospel might be exactly what our cancel culture world needs to find its way back to authentic community, genuine forgiveness, and the kind of love that changes everything.

And that, my friends, is a friendship worth fighting for.

Ready to continue the conversation? I'd love to connect with you on social media and hear your thoughts on navigating faith and friendship in today's world. You can find me on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter/X.

And don't forget to visit BrownsLife.com for more articles on faith, family, and finding your rhythm in a chaotic world.

Prior post in this category https://brownslife.com/2025/04/17/friendships-after-40-building-real-conversations/