I like to tease my husband, who conducts multiple orchestras each season, sometimes when he begins a concert week. Don’t panic, I tell him, when it seems things are not going to come together. There is often a moment in rehearsal two or three, with particular groups, when the situation feels precarious. But remember—and here I smile—it always comes together in the end. Just stay with it.
My husband responds with the eyes of someone who knows they have been observed, who feels seen and understood but perhaps unexpectedly so, since for him getting instrument-wielding humans successfully from first rehearsal to performance is just part of the job. He does that job exceedingly well, partly because truly rehearsing, rather than simply running through pieces, is one of his gifts and primary strategies. The rehearsal process under his leadership, even when harrowing, results in music making that often exceeds expectations and invites the audience into a story.1
The invigorating concerts I have seen my husband produce would not be possible without his commitment to the process, paired with the energy and participation of the orchestra. Transcendent moments, the ones everyone hopes to encounter in the concert hall, those that help us take a deeper breath and recognize the beauty of life around us, only become possible when he and the other players stay with it. Leaving the situation when it gets hard would not work.
Culturally, we have learned how to leave. When a situation gets hard, we in the 21st century are experts at getting out. Our society has untangled itself from its prior commitments to marriage, the church, and even friendship.
Culturally, we have learned how to leave.
Marriage rates have famously plummeted over the past few decades, with a record-breaking 25 percent of 40-year-olds in the United States reporting never having married in 2021, up from only six percent in 1980. The divorce rate, especially for those over 50, has doubled since the 1990s.
If you think the institution of marriage is shrinking, wait until you hear about the church. In just 25 years, 40 million Americans have stopped sitting in pews. Millennials and Gen Z have led the great church departure, with almost 30 percent of Americans in 2024 identifying as “spiritual but not religious,” or “nones,”2 a category that is expected to grow.
A recent study of 7,000 “dechurched” Americans, which is defined as those who used to attend church once per month and no longer do, found that many people left for practical reasons like moving too far away to commute. Though the study tries to account for those who cite being harmed by the church, I am not sure it takes the effects of bad theology, poor pastoral practice, and restrictive politics seriously enough.3
As we leave marriage and the church in droves, we are also exiting relationships that exist beyond marriage, like friendship. Pop psychology and wellness influencers increasingly emphasize the importance of leaving relationships “that no longer serve you.” Those looking for healthier ways of being are encouraged to walk away from “toxic” relationships. While learning to recognize and communicate personal needs and boundaries is vital, and difficult for many, especially those socially conditioned as women, this emphasis on leaving needs to be better balanced by a recognition of how meaningful it can be to stay with someone or something even when it becomes challenging.
Having a friendship end, for example, is something most adults experience. One 2009 study suggested we lose about half of our friends every seven years. Despite these losses, we rarely talk about the confusion and grief that can be associated with the end of friendships.
But the confusing grief is definitely there, because our commitment to friendship in the United States has reduced drastically, alongside marriage and church. Half of Americans report having three or fewer close friends, up from 27 percent in 1990. Conversely, only 13 percent of Americans report having a robust 10 close friends today, compared to 33 percent in 1990.
The reasons for friendship’s decline are multifaceted, but late capitalist constraints on our time, paired with the uniquely American obsession with linking our personal worth to our work, productivity, and output, and our deeply programmed tendency to moralize work itself, are largely to blame. In the United States, we work, we work a lot, and we tie our pride to our work.4 This results in more geographic change, increased hours in the office and on the road, and fewer rooted relationships. With our country’s religious and political dedication5 to marriage and families as a means of perpetuating the nation-state, friendship is the first thing to go.
This loss comes at great cost to our health and wellbeing. Scientists say that the infamous American loneliness epidemic is literally killing us. But even as we read about the problem of loneliness and decreasing connection, we lean into work rather than relationships.6 Although we cannot often leave work when things get hard, because our rent and grocery bills depend on it, we jump out of friendships with little thought. I wonder what commitment might mean—sticking around even through hard times— in a world fueled by love rather than the moralization of work.
A world fueled by love would not be absent of conflict. The opposite is true—conflict indicates love is present, because it illustrates that a person cares enough about something to be upset. When conflict is addressed with empathy and compassion, it can actually deepen relationship. Yet our culture would not have us learn to address conflict with care, especially among friends. Instead, we are told to cut the cord.
This must be said: There are times when leaving is the only choice—if abuse, harm, or neglect are at play; if faithful attempts have been made and revealed there is no meaningful path forward together. Leaving, as a cultural phenomenon, should not be completely canceled. Cutting ties is an important tool for challenging the status quo of institutionalized life and encouraging people in harmful situations to seek safety and security. I value the identification of boundaries and support those who need to leave an extractive marriage, church dynamic, or relationship.
At the same time, we should not be defined by our ability to leave. We are brilliant, loving creatures who have the capacity to do far more than run away from hard things. Our readiness to leave must be balanced by recognizing the healing power of staying put.
Our readiness to leave must be balanced by recognizing the healing power of staying put.
Staying with something through discomfort is a highly underrated skill. It balances our cord-cutting, fleet-footed departures with the integrity of love rooted in care, which is not always easy. Learning how to move through a difficult encounter, especially in relationship, can preserve and strengthen ties we desperately need, both to combat loneliness and to help us feel seen and known in the way humans crave.
Personally, I have experienced both the strengthening that can arise when conflict is lovingly addressed in relationship and the rupture that can take place when one side is unwilling, or unable, to engage an uncomfortable situation. The breach of trust that occurs when one party who previously claimed commitment and loyalty, maybe love, refuses even a phone call, much less getting in the same room to benefit from reading body language and experiencing shared, healing presence, is deeply painful. After long periods of loyalty, a phone call seems like a given. But for some people, it’s not.
Breaking connection after prolonged closeness really hurts. It leaves us wondering what happened, especially if we trusted a person to move through discomfort with us and then found them unwilling. So let me tell you instead about the people who stayed.
The relationships I have that stand the test of time—in some cases, for over two decades now—are forged with loving and generous people who stuck with me through periods of difficult illness, confusing distance, and milestone hardships. Across the board, they are comfortable with honesty, even when it gets a little bit hard. Those who offer longstanding companionship and commitment, an exquisite gift, have brought joy and meaning to the project of becoming a fully-formed adult. Notably, they have done the self-work that allows them to stay, to show up fully in relationship even when life gets awkward, even if hard feelings arise, and to willingly acknowledge and own when they hurt another person in relationship.
The foundational presence of these people in my life—those who stay, those who know the hard things that have shaped me—makes me wonder why we talk so much about leaving, but never about the power and potential of sticking around.
The foundational presence of these people in my life—those who stay, those who know the hard things that have shaped me—makes me wonder why we talk so much about leaving, but never about the power and potential of sticking around. Recovering from a difficult moment takes time, and more often than not, presence itself is a healing catalyst. Staying in the aftermath, amidst the stickiness, through the difficult conversation is one way to show incredible love. When people look back on my life, I want to be known as a person who stayed.
Hope you’re all doing well, enjoying tiny signs of spring, more light, and longer days. Wishing you all many blessings till next time. Take care out there. —LM
WE’RE ALL FRIENDS HERE is written by Lauren Maxwell. Can you help us grow? Send this to a friend and ask them to subscribe. Share it on Instagram and tag @lauren_only. If you enjoy this work, please consider becoming a paid subscriber to support more essays and a future book. Thank you so much for being here!
I will, of course, own my bias here. But after observing many concerts, and strong audience reactions, I believe this to be objectively true!
In my opinion both of these terms fail to capture the wide range of experience this group represents.
This study, which is featured in the book The Great Dechurching and a series of NY Times columns, was led by two white evangelical male pastors from Florida, who enlisted the help of two white male researchers from the Midwest. Although they polled 7,000 people, we must ask what voices and perspectives are missing from the data and, more specifically, their analysis of it. They are also, by nature of their jobs, prone to crafting arguments for getting people back in pews, which, it is worth emphasizing, may not be a life-giving path for all who have left.
This is silly. We have been brainwashed. Resist!
The two are, of course, inseparable in these United States, as every day spent at divinity school further reveals.
Seriously—life could be richer. Resist!
So much to think about here!