Op-ed: What do we owe our friends after they're gone?

One of the final tests of friendship comes after one friend is no longer alive to speak for himself.

It's easy to speak well of someone while they're living. It's much harder to decide what to do with their private failures, frustrations, and confidences after they're gone.

Do we preserve their dignity? Or do we expose them for the sake of proving a point?

That question came to mind this week as I watched the public dispute between Ben Shapiro and Candace Owens over the legacy of Charlie Kirk.

For her own purposes, Owens has been publishing conversations she exchanged with Charlie before his death, arguing they demonstrate that Kirk privately held an unfavorable opinion of Ben Shapiro.

Ben, for his part, hasn't denied that they had disagreements.

In fact, he recently acknowledged they "weren't best friends" while calling out Candace for her endless attacks and conspiracy theories.

Something about this back and forth has stayed with me.

After Charlie's murder, Shapiro attended the funeral. He publicly honored Kirk's life.

More recently, he defended Charlie's wife, his friends, and the people who worked alongside him, arguing that they deserve better than having the tragedy become fodder for conspiracy theories and internet drama.

Owens has taken a ... different approach, to say the least. In the midst of her barrage of "theories," she has chosen to publish private conversations that Kirk himself is no longer alive to explain, clarify, or place in context.

This raises the question:

What do we owe our friends after they're gone?

Scripture has a surprising amount to say about that.

Whoever covers an offense seeks love, but he who repeats a matter separates close friends. (Proverbs 17:9)

Notice what Solomon does not say. He doesn't tell us to ignore sin. He doesn't encourage covering up evil. He simply recognizes that love does not delight in exposing every private failure, every regrettable conversation, or every unfiltered frustration someone has ever expressed.

The same wisdom appears again just a few chapters earlier.

A gossip betrays a confidence, but a trustworthy person keeps a secret. (Proverbs 11:13)

Our social media age has almost reversed that proverb.

Too often, our social media culture treats private conversations as future content, turns screenshots into weapons, makes confidentiality conditional, and values loyalty only as long as there is agreement.

That is why this moment deserves more than a political analysis. It deserves a biblical one. Candace publicly professes faith in Christ, which means the question isn't merely whether these text messages are authentic. The deeper question is whether publishing them reflects the biblical vision of friendship, discretion, and love.

As Christians, we don't simply ask, "Is this true?"

We also ask,

• "Is it loving?"

• "Is it necessary?"

• "Does it honor Christ?"

• "Does it build up, or merely expose?"

When Peter writes,

Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins. (1 Peter 4:8)

…he isn't telling Christians to conceal criminal behavior or protect abuse. He's describing the ordinary rhythm of healthy relationships.

The love we are to embody and pour outward into others doesn't keep score, preserve receipts, or quietly archive every disagreement, waiting for the perfect opportunity to unveil it before the world.

Here is the reality of every human relationship:

• Every friendship has moments of frustration.

• Every marriage does.

• Every family does.

• Every ministry does.

• Every one of us has said things in private that reflected a difficult moment rather than the entirety of a relationship.

That is why one of the clearest tests of character isn't how we speak about people while they're alive. It's how we speak about them after they're gone.

King David understood that.

Saul spent years trying to kill him, hunting him through the wilderness, throwing spears at him, and forcing him into exile. If anyone possessed enough material to destroy another person's reputation after death, it was David.

Yet when Saul died, David didn't seize the opportunity to settle old scores. He composed a lament, honored Saul publicly, and even rebuked those who celebrated his death.

In other words, he did the exact opposite of what we've come to expect in our culture today. David's example teaches those of us humble enough to learn that death should quiet some conversations, not amplify them.

In an age that rewards exposure, Christians should become known for something different.

Not for covering up evil, of course, but for covering one another with the kind of love Paul describes:

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. (1 Corinthians 13:7)

Not every private conversation is ours to resurrect.

Some are ours to bury with love.

Disclaimer: The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of Not the Bee or any of its affiliates.