I’ve been (slowly) reading Neale Donald Walsch’s Friendship With God, and he starts by talking about how he grew up fearing God. How even two books into his Conversations With God trilogy, he still felt uncomfortable with the idea of asking - god forbid demanding - things of God. God, however, insisted that asking things of a friend is part of friendship. That friendships need to be put to use, otherwise they are just acquaintances. God was like, “Use me!” and Neale was like “Oh, I could never do that!” He struggled with the idea of thinking of God as a friend.
It made me ponder my own relationship with the Divine. I, too, see the Divine/universe/Spirit as something all-encompassing, ubiquitous, awe-inspiringly and unimaginably vast – but I also know that I am that Spirit. Because of that, I don’t fear wrath or punishment or whatever people fear about God. I cannot help but view the Divine as a friend – because my understanding of Spirit began with thinking of it as my conscience. And if my inner Jiminy Cricket ain’t my friend, then who is?
The Divine is definitely my bestie. They know everything. They protect me from not only the outside world, but from my own self. They are always with me and around me but are never intrusive. They make suggestions and give instructions but never orders. They are patient with my temper tantrums, thoughtful about my queries, tolerant of my demands. When I am in despair, they hold me and wipe my tears and hand me a tissue and get me a cool washcloth for my face. They speak calmly to me when I am afraid. They sit with me when I am anxious. They listen to me, hear me, even when I am telling the same story for the millionth time. They are always available, and usually don’t bother me at inopportune moments, like when I’m sleeping. (I mean, I’m sure they are trying to tell me stuff in my dreams, but so far only a few of those particular messages have come through). They know how bad my memory is, and they don’t mind repeating themselves. They tease me and poke fun at me and make me laugh. They speak to me in ways that I find beautiful, ways that I understand. They show me beauty and bring me joy every single day. They help me to see that even the hardest challenges are opportunities, that there is treasure in the dark, that there are blessings in the pain, that there are gifts in the problems – and they do it without resorting to word art, thank god, because that would be a deal breaker, lol.
Most importantly, they do not judge me when I repeat the same cycles, make the same mistakes over and over again. They want me to figure this shit out, and they know I will, but they are not penalizing me for taking so damn long with some stuff. They never yell or belittle or say mean things.
They love me, and I love them.
They are at once bestie, mother, sister, father, lover, child. I cannot imagine NOT being friends with them. I know that at the beginning I was skeptical at times, and had moments of feeling unworthy, but I never put them on a pedestal.
Was that brave of me? Should I have been more hesitant, more groveling, more subservient? Should I have been more worshipful, more reverent, more serious?
I don’t believe in a Divine that would ask those things of me.
I haven’t finished Mr. Walsch’s book, but I can only assume that he got there, and he and God are chillin somewhere, having a metaphorical drink and a good talk. I can only hope that they are, in fact, friends.
I also hope that everyone – including you - seeks and finds the Divine in themselves, and builds a relationship based on love, laughter, mutual respect, and truth. An effortless friendship. It’s there, just waiting for you. Just give them a call. Operators are standing by.
Until next time,
Rhon