Friendship can be hard to find in a busy city like London. But Matt Brinkley, a missionary with London City Mission in Tower Hamlets, believes many of us are overlooking the people already around us – and missing out on the blessing of friendships that cross cultures, backgrounds and beliefs.

Someone once said that one of Jesus' greatest miracles was having twelve close male friends in his thirties.

There's a grain of truth in the joke. Much has been written about the challenges many adults face in building and maintaining friendships as they get older. Men, in particular, often seem to struggle with it, but loneliness isn't exclusively a male problem. Many women feel it too.

In a city as vast and busy as London, meaningful friendship can feel surprisingly hard to find.

But I wonder whether we're sometimes looking in the wrong places.

London is one of the most multicultural cities in the world. Every day, we're surrounded by people whose stories, cultures, experiences and beliefs may be very different from our own. Yet how often do we move beyond polite interactions and get to know them?

Some of the richest friendships in my life have come not through shared hobbies or similar backgrounds, but through crossing cultural boundaries and taking an interest in people whose lives look very different from mine. In fact, interest from someone outside our own background can feel even more powerful precisely because it isn’t expected.

Friendship grows through connection

When people talk about making friends, they often focus on finding like-minded people. There's wisdom in that. Shared interests can be a great starting point.

I've found that meaningful relationships rarely emerge from a single deep conversation. More often, they develop through small, repeated interactions over time. A chat here. A question there. Remembering a name. Taking an interest in someone's story. Showing up consistently.

In many ways, that's become harder in London. We're busy. We move quickly from one commitment to the next. We fill every available gap in our schedules.

But friendship often requires us to slow down enough to notice the people already around us.

My Kurdish friend

A few years ago, I got to know a Kurdish shopkeeper in my area.

Like many local shop owners, he works incredibly long hours. Much of his life revolves around the shop. Whenever I went in, the television would often be showing Kurdish news or political discussions, and over time I became curious. Why was he so passionate about these issues? What was his story? How did he see the world?

Those conversations became the foundation of a friendship.

Nothing happened overnight. It was built through countless small encounters. I'd stop in for a chat. We'd pick up where we'd left off. I'd ask questions. He'd tell me about Kurdish history, politics and culture.

Over time, our lives became more intertwined. When family members visit me, I'll often introduce them to him. A few weeks ago, it was his birthday, and because much of his family is far away, I baked a cake and took it down to the shop. We put a candle in it, sang happy birthday and shared it together.

Sometimes I'll simply spend time in the shop, sitting on a stool behind the counter, helping stack shelves or chatting while deliveries come in. As evening approaches, food appears and we're invited to eat together.

One day he told me, "In our culture, when you eat with us, you're part of our family."

That's a precious thing.