A few weeks into first grade, I had yet to make a friend. I remember this one guy who I would talk to at first, but he eventually found a tribe and I was left in the lurch. My teacher noticed this, as well as a classmate of mine, Connor, who was in the same boat. Every recess Connor would just walk laps around the playground equipment swinging his arms around and making action noises, completely alone. So one recess my teacher suggested I go and talk to Connor and spend a recess with him. That was the start of a friendship that lasted through the end of third grade, when I switched schools and we lost touch. But for those three years, me, Connor and this kid who loved pretending to be a robot (I don’t remember much else about that guy) were thick as thieves.
My teacher initiated that relationship, sending me over to talk to the lonely, yet very kind, Connor, but that was the extent of her involvement in the friendship. She didn’t make me hang out with him every day, or initiate the playdates we would have outside of school, or tell me what to say in our conversations. It was my responsibility, and Connor’s, to actually steward that relationship, even as six-year olds.
In the same way, your relationship with God is no one’s responsibility but your own. It’s not your pastor’s, even if he/she is the one who initiated your meeting with Him. It’s not your parent’s/friend’s/spouse’s. None of those people can facilitate your relationship with God any more than a teacher can facilitate a friendship between students. They can make an introduction, and the rest is up to you.
Had you asked me about this truth pre-COVID I would have said, “yeah, of course I know that. I’m not Catholic.” But, as with almost anything, knowledge of a concept is not the same as a practical, hands-on understanding of it. Since the coronavirus pandemic I have had to forego many of the weekly ceremonies that energized me and brought me closer to God. I had regularly scheduled times where I could count on feeling the presence of my Savior, every single week, in one of at least two church services. When that routine went the way of Sean Connery, so too did my intimacy with Jesus.
I spent months in a numb sort of coasting. I don’t think I noticed it right away, either. Eventually, though, it was clear to me that something had changed and I needed to get to work. To take responsibility for my own friendship with Christ. It was nobody else’s job, and no one else would answer for it either.
This has been one of the many unexpected blessings of this horrific year. In taking the reins of my own personal, unique relationship with the Almighty I actually reached a deeper level of intimacy than I had enjoyed before. It led to that funny feeling you get when a friend’s friend that you sometimes hang out with gradually transitions to become your own friend, with your own relationship irrespective of that with your original friend.
This is the kind of personal friendship that God longs for; the kind that He made us for. Our God is unique among the ancient Mesopotamian gods in that He has no proper name. Instead he opts to be called the God of Abraham, of Isaac, of Jacob, etc. He longs to be your God, and He is my God too; the God of Jon.
I wonder what Connor is up to.