Decades ago, I lived in Monterey California. I used to sail with two friends. One left a legacy that has stayed with me across decades and life defining moments. The essence of his legacy was candor. In his life, he focused on things that gave him pleasure. Nothing else mattered. Retirement was beyond his imagination. Loyalty was a bargaining chip. His god was himself. He was clear and upfront about the way he lived his life. If you could accept him as himself, great, otherwise, he was ok with moving on.
He was fun. I had no expectations from him, and as a result, we got along great. We sailed when it mutually worked. We caught up when our diaries synced. We lived in different worlds, linked by shared interests and a common desire to experience life at its best.
I can remember and feel his candor. He knew that I did not agree with his choices. I can recall many shared sunsets talking about the differences in what we saw in life. His honesty sharpened my perspective. His frankness allowed me to see more about myself than I was otherwise able to see. As different as we were, the relationship worked on multiple levels.
I miss his openness. I find it difficult to be as candid as he was without offending or criticizing. His perspective emerged from a series of broken relationships. He willingly admitted that he contributed to his hell, yet we both knew relationships take two to make or break it.
I also miss his ability to be direct. Our discussions had sharp views. With both of us listening intently, trying to understand and see the other, the viewpoints help clarify and point us both towards greater truths. As I read David’s words, I find myself listening to a perspective that I wish I had the courage to echo; “Earth-leaders push for position, Demagogues and delegates meet for summit talks, The God-deniers, the Messiah-defiers: ‘Let’s get free of God! Cast loose from Messiah!’” (Psalm 2.2, 3)
Candor in love and trust is priceless.