Victim of Culture

God is my savior, but He is not my friend

I was watching my mother’s three kittens play last night when I got to thinking about the commonly echoed phrase, “God is my best friend.”  What do people mean by this?

It is possible that they mean God is like a friend–a good one.  This good friend will be there in dark times to pick you up.  It is unlikely they mean God is like a bad friend who will be there to pick you up to take you drinking the night before a job interview, but you never know with people.

It’s also possible that people mean God is literally their best friend.  On their wedding day they would choose God as their best man or maid of honor.  And this, strikes me as odd.  It isn’t that I don’t think God could pull off a smashing tuxedo or fuchsia dress, because after all, he is omnipotent.  It’s more that I don’t think God fits the friend label, or perhaps more accurately, that it does not fit Him.

Isn’t friendship a reciprocal act?  If Jude Law and I are going to be friends (and this is more likely than one might assume, relatively speaking), then don’t we both have to consider one another a friend?  I can’t simply start calling Jude my pal and get away with it, can I?  Wouldn’t people assume I was nuts?  Sort of a stalker?  Aha, but what about what Jesus said to the Apostles in John 15:15?

I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you.

But doesn’t my cat know my business?  My two cats routinely wander into the bathroom when I am in the mist of all sorts of business others never bare witness to.  No, I am not playing a game of semantics but actually inquiring.  Despite this, I do not consider my cats real friends, or at least not in the manner I think some call God a friend.

In reality, I am not sure it’s possible for any higher being to be friends with a lower one.  I can no more be friends with God than I can with my cat.  We occupy three distinct levels of advancement.  Nor is my cat buddying up to any caterpillars.  The cat may be amused by the caterpillar, and it may bring enjoyment to my cat’s life, but friends?  I think God listens to me, but so does my cat.  My cat brings me joy, but it can’t actually give me anything of value that I need, though it does bring me slobbery cat toys.  I don’t really give God anything He needs.  I’m sure my praise and happiness bring Him joy, but does He actually need any of these things?  I doubt it.

Instead, my relationship with God is far more similar to my relationship with my cat than to any friend I have.  Far too often modern American culture tries to conform God to convenient maxims that allow us to get on with the more important tasks of installing coffee shops into our churches.  Those are great for our friends, but that sadly does not include God.

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