“You Knew, and You Didn’t Tell Me?”

There’s nothing like betrayal to cause you to discard all trust you had in someone. “You knew, and you didn’t tell me?” I managed to battle the emotion that was surmounting like a tsunami flood. At this moment, I didn’t care that “Felicity” and “Anita” were friends before I even came along. It was the fact that everything I thought I knew about my friendships was crumbling right before my eyes, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I’m sure it was difficult for Felicity because she was a friend to both of us, but I was hurting at this moment. I hurt because it felt like everyone kept secrets from me about Anita, who I thought was also close to me, and the person who once vowed before God that he would cherish me forever yet willfully abdicated that role.

They were now engaged. But the hurt wasn’t just because the couple got engaged; it was because they didn’t see me as significant enough to inform —the friend code was broken. It was much easier to forgive the couple for their seeming deception, but I thought that at least Felicity and I were closer than that.

She had information she kept from me because she thought it wasn’t her place to share it. Felicity thought that getting the information from the source was a better option for me. She thought that if she just stayed out of things, it wouldn’t be a problem for her. But it was. Considering all those intense emotions got me thinking about our witness every day. If we keep our mouths shut about our Savior Jesus who will return someday, and a friend of ours recognizes that we knew He was returning but we didn’t tell him or her, how awful would that be? How cruel would it be to have information that could prepare someone for a big change yet not share it? What if God said to someone, “I never knew you,” all because we chose to let someone else be a mouthpiece for God instead of us?

Rachel Privette Jennings