We Understand Brotherly Love Because We Have Brothers

I'm convinced the world is better because of brothers. In my case, this is absolutely true. We just returned from a spring break adventure with my little brother. He took us to places I never would have gone by myself. We hiked through slot canyons and camped in the most beautiful, out in the middle-of-nowhere places you can imagine. I also tested the 4x4 abilities of our truck like I’ve never tested it before and drove up roads I never would have even found, much less driven up, without my brother leading the way.

When I asked him why we were planning to take one certain road he said, “Because there’s nothing there.” We laughed. We took the road. It required me driving through a significant river to access it, and I must say my brother was wrong. We took a side road to a remote lookout point—and there was definitely something there. We stood in awe at the top of gaping expanse that rivaled anything I’ve ever seen. After loitering and gazing and discovering blue rocks under our feet, we drove for over an hour and a half and didn’t see another human being. No cars. No cowboys. Only me and my brother and our kids got to see what we saw that day.

My son and I slept in the back of our truck in 25-degree weather for three nights and survived a windstorm, a rainstorm, and a snowstorm quite comfortably. My brother’s shelter, on the other hand, blew off during the first night and he and his son spent hours retrieving and refastening it while we were sleeping snug in our covered bed. But he was none the grumpier for it in the morning and simply lead us on to the next adventure.

The drive down the steep, cliff-lined switchbacks on the Burr Trail outside the tiny town of Boulder, Utah was stunning. My son—an avid fan of the Cars movies—insisted that Carburetor County must have been modeled after the Burr Trail. He said, “Look! There’s Wheelwell!” I think he was right.

At night, after our adventures, we would cook over the fire (not hot dogs, mind you, but robust trail food like steak and potatoes and of course S’mores) and my brother and his son busted out the guitar and we sang John Denver songs around the fire. Even in the wind the singing was pleasant and worth it.

This is the way it has been most of my life. I have no sisters, only brothers. Three of them: two older, one younger. I played with my brothers doing boy things all the time growing up. We climbed trees and built forts and swung on rope swings that required you to jump from a branch to take the ride. One summer my brothers and I hiked a mountain and came across a dam with deep green, ominous water in it. We threw ourselves off the dam and into the water. I thought we might die, but we didn’t.

My brothers have made my life significantly more adventurous, more daring, more meaningful, and more fun. And (with one exception) they have not scared me so badly I’d never trust them enough to go with them again. It is through all these daring adventures that the bonds of brotherhood and sisterhood were forged. There’s really no substitute for true adventure to bind people together. And brothers are uniquely good at it.

They’re usually also really good at loyalty. And protection. And generosity. The phrase “brotherly love” was coined for good reason.

If you haven’t talked to your brother in a while, today might be a good day.

Thank God for brothers.