With trepidation, I boarded the commuter train that would take me to my first real job—as a public relations writer/ spokesperson for a Fortune 500 company. Surprisingly, I wasn't overly concerned about hitting it off with my boss or thriving in a new work environment. What bothered me most was the profound sense of loneliness that seemed to loom overhead. My nearest confidantes were hundreds of miles away, and I knew none of my new colleagues. How would I survive an alien terrain without friends?

An hour later, my supervisor paraded me around the building to meet my coworkers. It was then I met Debbie, a sharp young woman a few years older than I was. She looked up from her work station and smiled as our boss introduced us.

Debbie and I became fast friends. We lunched together; in fact, Debbie's the one who introduced me to the trendy pre-Evian drink of club soda with a twist of lime. During our lunches, Debbie explained the unspoken corporate public-relations office rules: Wear skirts and blazers if you want to get ahead; steer clear of the boss when a media circus is brewing; treat administrative assistants, reporters, and cameramen with respect; and always recheck your facts. Most of all, Debbie and I made each other laugh when the stress meter in our office hit critical. Our friendship made two demanding jobs more livable.

Over the years I've chosen some good workplace friends such as Debbie—and some not-so-good ones (whose names I'd rather forget). Likely you have, too. As women who may spend half (or more) of our waking hours at an office or volunteering in some capacity, it's natural for us to be on the lookout for fellow workers with whom to share the journey. But who's that woman in the cubicle, classroom, or seat next to us? How can we tell whether she's someone we can trust to become a true friend?

As I do with most decisions in life, I've sought what the Bible says about finding and being a friend. After identifying several relevant verses, I've learned to ask myself four key questions when choosing career friends.

One: Is she willing
to speak and accept the truth? Maybe I'm more trusting than most, but I didn't realize the importance of asking this question until I'd endured a painful experience. For many months I'd trusted a fellow worker implicitly—only to overhear her one afternoon bragging that she'd lied to a superior just to get him off her back. While she hadn't yet lied to me, I soon learned she'd lied about me. In discovering her propensity to alter the truth in her favor, I found I'd been misguided in trusting her. Our friendship crumbled on its shifty foundations.

But it isn't just an outright lie that disqualifies a potential friend. It's her complete handling of the truth. Will she tell me when she thinks I'm on the wrong path, or will she tell me only what she thinks I want to hear? How will she accept me if I tell her something she doesn't want to hear? Not everyone wants to hear the truth. Yet the Bible calls us to be truthful in our relationships while tempering our honesty with love (Ephesians 4:15) and grace (John 1:14). It's a friend's responsibility to wrap the truth in a kind and loving package.

I lost a client not long ago because I chose to be honest with him about inherent problems I observed at the outset of a project. I soon discovered he didn't want to be bothered by facing the truth. This left me feeling devalued—certainly not a good foundation for a friendship.

Lin, a colleague and client for more than a decade, is just the opposite. Lin counts on me to do a monthly project for her that requires a several-hour commitment and an ability to turn it around in 24 hours or less. Last year, when I was writing my fourth book and overseeing a construction project at home, I went through a six-month period when I couldn't clear my schedule when Lin needed me to. I told her (and meant it) that she could replace me, that I couldn't promise to do what I knew I couldn't deliver. Even though Lin had to scramble to find a backup for me, she continued to be nothing but understanding and supportive. When I finished my book and moved into my new home office, she asked me to resume my work with her. Not only a loyal client, Lin proved herself a worthy friend.

Two: Is she able
to keep a private matter private? Side by side with truth-telling is the fact that friendship grows through the intimate sharing of joys and sorrows that aren't for the whole world to know. In the Old Testament, wise King Solomon said, "A gossip separates close friends" (Proverbs 16:28). Or, to put it in modern terms, you can't share confidences with someone who'll turn around and broadcast (or worse, embellish) what you've shared over the office airwaves.

Heeding this advice, I've learned to use a degree of restraint when I share my struggles with a new workplace friend. I'll try her out on something small and see whether it makes its way back to me via the office grapevine. This lengthens the time it takes to cement a friendship, but it's a small price to pay not to be burned.

And when I say "burned," I mean burned. I once knew a woman who went through a messy divorce. One morning, she went into her office early only to find a colleague (purportedly a friend) shuffling through her private papers. It turned out the colleague was being paid by my friend's ex-husband to spy for him.

Breaking a confidence is huge—even in less blatant circumstances. What a coworker tells me in private, I keep in private. And I expect the same courtesy from her.