by Jeremy Frye
What might it look like to live as a soul friend?
Celtic Christians used the term Anam Cara—literally “soul friend”—to describe a relationship marked by deep spiritual companionship, a mutual seeing that reveals the presence of God in the other. It was not casual friendship, nor was it hierarchical like teacher and student. It was a sacred trust: a willingness to walk with another in honesty, tenderness, and reverence. In a culture that measured worth by strength, honor, and achievement, Anam Cara friendship stood apart as a way of belonging rooted not in what one could do, but in who one was.
We live in a time not unlike theirs. Noise, speed, and the constant pressure to prove our value through productivity surround us. Relationships—even good ones—often get reduced to transactions: what can this person do for me? What can I offer them? In such a world, the invitation to be a soul friend feels both radical and strangely simple. It is the decision to be present—to really see another human being and hold space for them as they are, without judgment or agenda.
At Anam Cara, we often talk about being soul friends in the world. An Invitation to Soul Friendship is literally our tagline. Lately, I’ve been pondering what it would actually look like for someone to respond to that invitation. I’ve said this way of living is both radical and simple. But for most of us, I suspect it mostly feels radical. The decision to be present may be simple, but it is far from easy.
It’s my hope that the essays in this series will offer a vision of a way of being in the world that, if not easy, is at least compelling. I want to articulate a framework for how we might actually live out this invitation we extend so often here at Anam Cara. Because I truly believe the world needs more people choosing—day by day—to live as Anam Cara.
Jesus said to His closest friends, “I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything I learned from my Father I have made known to you” (John 15:15). This is the heartbeat of soul friendship. It is rooted in the friendship God first extends to us—an openness, a sharing of life, a presence that does not demand but delights.
Living as Anam Cara in the world is radical because it runs counter to the logic of our culture. We live in an economy that sees people as commodities—measured by productivity, consumption, and profit. That economy shapes almost every decision we make: where we live, what we eat, how we work, even how we approach leisure and friendship. To live as a soul friend requires us to see this clearly. Until we recognize the forces that work against this way of life, we will remain frustrated by our inability to “make it work.”
This is why soul friendship feels radical—because it refuses the lie that we are only valuable insofar as we are useful.
Soul friendship operates outside the economy of the world because it plays by entirely different rules. It is not about gain. In fact, it threatens the powers of consumption because it draws us toward dependence on one another and away from dependence on “the system.” This is why it feels radical—because it refuses the lie that we are only valuable insofar as we are useful.
To paraphrase Wendell Berry, The smallest unit of health is the community. If the community is not healthy, then the members of it cannot be. I would add that the smallest unit of community is a friendship rooted in love. The health of the world begins with the health of our relationships. Soul friendship is how the gospel takes on flesh in the quiet corners of our lives. It is how healing begins—first within us, then between us, and eventually spilling outward into the world around us.
But here is the paradox: soul friendship begins with stillness. Before we can truly see and hold space for another, we must learn to stop. Sabbath teaches us this. It interrupts the endless cycle of doing and reminds us that our worth is not found in achievement but in being. When we practice Sabbath—not just as a day off, but as a conscious act of ceasing—we make room for friendship with God. And in doing so, we begin to make room for friendship with others.
So the invitation to soul friendship is not primarily about finding the “right” person or forcing a deeper relationship. It starts with a posture of rest and presence. It asks: Can I slow down long enough to notice the people already given to me? Can I listen without trying to fix? Can I sit with someone else’s joy or sorrow without rushing past it?
In a world that measures success in numbers and influence, we are reminded that transformation begins small. Not facilitated by large institutions or programs, but in the simple act of one person making space for another. The world will not ultimately be healed by governments or organizations—helpful as they sometimes are—but by people who choose to live as friends, quietly embodying the gospel in daily life.
To begin, we don’t need to go far. We start with God, who calls us friend. We start with the person nearest us—the family member at our table, the neighbor next door, the friend we’ve lost touch with. And we start with ourselves, daring to believe that God looks at us not with condemnation but with deep delight.
Perhaps this week you could take one small step. Stop for a moment of quiet—set aside the to-do list and the endless scrolling. Take a breath. Ask God to show you one person to truly see. It might be someone close to you, or someone you’ve overlooked. And then, with no agenda but love, reach out.
This where soul friendship begins. With one person. With one moment of stillness. With one simple act of presence.