Do you know Carolanne Moore? No? Let me tell you about Carolanne Moore. She’s my friend. Carolanne is a teacher. She teaches in Australia. She likes walks on the beach. She dotes on her family. She’s currently taking a break from her job. And she has this zest for life that is unbelievable. She has a smile that melts barriers and invites you to open up to her. She’s amazing. I’ve never seen Carolanne face-to-face.

Have you ever met Martha Holverson? She’s my friend, too. Martha is a preacher in the United Church of Christ. She’s a trained interim pastor, serving churches that are in-between pastors. She’s a prolific writer. And she’s the matriarch of an international organization of female pastors that stretches around the world. Martha lives in Maine. I have seen Martha face-to-face; we’ve even broken bread together on occasion.

Greg Hazelrig is someone you probably don’t know. But he’s my friend, too. Greg is a United Methodist preacher near Vicksburg, Mississippi. Sometimes Greg and I exchange ideas on sermons and such. I know Greg’s birthday. I know a lot about Greg’s family. I know Greg’s likes and dislikes. I’ve never heard Greg preach, but my impression is that Greg has the ability to get people to want to listen to him. Matter-of-fact, I’ve never met Greg personally.

I’ve got hundreds of friends like the ones above. They are my Facebook friends. Yep, I’m on Facebook. Sometimes it seems as though the whole world is on Facebook. And on Facebook everyone is making “friends” with each other. We’re learning about each other; at least, we’re learning what the other wants us to know about them. I know what they are doing because they are constantly telling me via their Facebook page.

Ah, what a world we live in. Maybe Dorothy said it best when she arrived in Oz, “ Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas any more.” We’re not; things are changing, really changing in ways my Daddy would never have imagined.

According to Facebook, I have hundreds of “friends.” Those are Facebook friends. The question remains: How many real friends do I have?” A seventeen-year-old told me, “On Facebook I have 327 friends, but, really, I only have three real friends.” She’s learned an important lesson for life in the Twenty-first Century.

We’re going to be more tempted to hide behind our Facebook self in coming years. We’re going to be in danger of becoming plastic, artificial, a virtual representation of what we want to be instead of the person we really are. Carolanne, Greg and Martha are Facebook friends, but Gary and Phil who walked with me away from the grave and through the grief of the death of my wife are my real friends. Real friends reach out and touch; real friends share tears; real friends don’t wait for me to post my dressed-up emotions on the internet. Real friends know before I am ready to express.

A coupe of hours ago I was watching the Pairs Figure Skating from the Olympics. A couple didn’t do as well as they thought they would. The man fell; the woman faltered. I posted on Facebook that I thought it wonderful to be good enough to fail at the Olympics. My granddaughter read and liked it. Maybe I should go see her tomorrow where she can tell me face-to-face.