There is something deeply moving about being called a friend of God.
Abraham, the father of faith, was given that honor. He wasn’t perfect. He had moments of doubt, fear, and failure. He lied to protect himself. He tried to take matters into his own hands when God’s promises seemed delayed. But through it all, he believed God. He trusted Him. And in that trust, God called him friend.
“You see that faith was active along with his works, and faith was completed by his works;
and the Scripture was fulfilled that says, ‘Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness’—and he was called a friend of God.” (James 2:22-23 ESV).
That should be enough to stop us in our tracks. The Creator of the universe, the One who spoke light into existence, the One who formed the stars and calls them by name—He looked upon Abraham and called him His friend. Not because Abraham was flawless, but because Abraham walked with Him. Because Abraham trusted Him, even when his trust was shaky.
And then Jesus, the very Creator Himself, takes it even further. On the night before His crucifixion, as He sat with His disciples in that upper room, He made a declaration that should send a shiver down our spines.
“No longer do I call you servants, for the servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you.” (John 15:15 ESV).
The Lord of all creation, the Alpha and the Omega, the King of Kings, looks at these men—flawed, weak, confused men—and says, you are my friends.
And let’s not forget who He was speaking to. He wasn’t talking to men who had everything figured out. He was talking to the one who would deny Him three times before morning. He was talking to the ones who would run in fear when the soldiers came. He was talking to the one who would doubt His resurrection. Yet He still called them friends.
What kind of love is this?
It’s one thing to be called a servant of God. That’s an honor in itself. But Jesus raises us to something greater. A servant may obey his master, but he doesn’t have access to his master’s plans. A servant isn’t brought into the counsel of his lord. But a friend? A friend is someone you invite in. A friend is someone you trust with your heart.
This is what God has always wanted with His people.
Consider Moses. Scripture tells us something remarkable about his relationship with God:
“Thus the Lord used to speak to Moses face to face, as a man speaks to his friend.” (Exodus 33:11 ESV).
Imagine that. The Almighty God, the One whose presence was so overwhelming that the Israelites trembled at Mount Sinai, spoke to Moses as a friend. That level of closeness was rare under the old covenant.
The people of Israel didn’t want that level of intimacy with God. When they saw the fire and the smoke at Sinai, they begged Moses to speak to God on their behalf rather than hear Him directly.
But in Christ, God removes the distance. He calls us not only friends but something even greater.
“For he who sanctifies and those who are sanctified all have one source. That is why he is not ashamed to call them brothers,
saying, ‘I will tell of your name to my brothers; in the midst of the congregation I will sing your praise.” (Hebrews 2:11-12 ESV).
Let that sink in.
Jesus is not ashamed to call us brothers.
He knows our failures. He knows our struggles. He knows the moments of doubt, the times we should have spoken but stayed silent, the times we should have trusted but chose fear instead. And yet, He is not ashamed of us. He claims us as His own.
How could this be?
The same Jesus who holds all things together, the same Jesus who has dominion over every throne and authority, the same Jesus who will one day return in glory to judge the living and the dead—He looks at us and says, these are my brothers and sisters.
Not just on our best days. Not just when we get it right. He claims us in our weakest moments. In our failures. In our stumbling.
Think about Peter. He had one of the greatest collapses of faith recorded in the Bible. He walked with Jesus for three years. He saw miracles firsthand. He was the first to declare that Jesus was the Christ, the Son of God. And yet, when the pressure came, when fear gripped him in the high priest’s courtyard, he denied his Lord—not once, not twice, but three times. And the moment the rooster crowed, he wept bitterly, realizing what he had done.
A failure like that could crush a man. But Jesus wasn’t done with Peter. After His resurrection, He met Peter on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, cooked him breakfast, and restored him. Three times He asked Peter, “Do you love me?” Three times Peter affirmed his love, and three times Jesus entrusted him with the care of His sheep.
Why? Because Peter’s failure did not disqualify him from Jesus’ love. Jesus was not ashamed of Peter. He did not cast him aside. He still called him His friend, His brother, and entrusted him with the work of the kingdom.
That is the heart of our Savior.
This is the same Jesus who touched lepers, dined with sinners, and welcomed the outcasts. The same Jesus who wept over Jerusalem, knowing they would reject Him. The same Jesus who cried out, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” as He hung on the cross.
And this is the same Jesus who looks at us, knowing every flaw, every sin, every failure, and says:
You are mine.
We are not just servants of God.
We are not just friends of God.
We are family.
Jesus, the risen King, the One who conquered sin and death, looks at us—not just in our brightest moments, but in our lowest—and says, you belong to me.
I am not ashamed of you.
You are my brother. You are my sister.
And if that is true, how could we ever feel alone?
How could we ever believe the lie that we are too broken, too weak, or too unworthy?
Abraham had his moments of failure, yet he was called a friend. Moses had his doubts, yet he spoke with God as a friend. The apostles had their moments of failure, yet they were called friends. And now, in Christ, we are not only friends—we are brothers and sisters.
That’s not a title we could ever earn. It’s a gift of grace.
And if Jesus is not ashamed of us, then we have no right to be ashamed to stand for Him.
Maybe today you feel distant from God. Maybe you’ve struggled. Maybe you’ve failed in ways that make you wonder if He still wants you. Hear this: Jesus is not ashamed of you.
He calls you friend.
He calls you family.
Walk in that truth today.
Poor in spirit
Mourn
Meek
Hunger and thirst for righteousness
Merciful
Pure in heart
Peacemakers
Persecuted
As citizens of the Kingdom of heaven, does this describe our heart?
This is how Jesus, the Messiah and King, describes His followers as He begins the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew Chapter 5.
Which area will we focus on today as we develop our spiritual man to be citizens of our heavenly home?
God did not choose Moses because Moses was eloquent. God chose Moses because God was sufficient.
God does not need our eloquence, our strength, our power, our riches, or our intelligence to accomplish great things through us.
God’s power can work through our weakness for His glory.
I suppose if Jesus could raise Lazarus from the dead when his decomposing body started stinking after 4 days,
There is no situation in my life too far gone that His power cannot handle.
In the quiet moments of reflection, we find ourselves drawn to the depth of God’s love—a love so profound it leaves us in awe. In John 17:23, Jesus reveals a staggering truth: the Father loves us just as He loves the Son. This isn’t merely a statement but an invitation to marvel at the boundless, unconditional love that God pours into our lives.
“I in them and you in me, that they may become perfectly one, so that the world may know that you sent me and loved them even as you loved me.” (John 17:23 ESV).
Yet, in our human experience, it’s often difficult to love others, especially when they have hurt us, taken from us, or harmed those we love. These moments test the limits of our ability to love. But if we can remember that while we were still sinners, while we were still His enemies, He loved us enough to give everything for us, then we are called to extend that same love. This profound truth can transform our hearts and help us to extend grace and love to others, no matter how difficult it may seem.
May we always be anchored in the awe of His love, allowing it to shape our hearts and actions, and leading us to love others as He loves us.
“I in them and you in me, that they may become perfectly one, so that the world may know that you sent me and loved them even as you loved me.” (John 17:23 ESV).
I am in the Psalms in my daily Bible reading. This book covers all the emotions God created for us to experience.
If you feel depressed, there is a psalm for you.
If you feel overwhelming joy, there is a psalm for you.
If you feel deep awe and reverence for God, there is a psalm for you.
If you feel afraid, there is a psalm for you.
If you are bursting with the need to tell others what God has done for you, there is a psalm for you.
If you feel angry, there is a psalm for you.
God created not only our intellect and reason, He also created our emotions and feelings. The collection of psalms is a divinely inspired collection of songs that unite the intellect with the emotion.
What an amazing treasure we have in these verses.
Noah built the ark before the first drop of rain fell.
Joshua marched around Jericho for 7 days.
God led Moses and the Israelites between the sea and the Egyptian army.
Peter let down his nets after a long night of catching nothing.
Ten lepers were told to show themselves to the priest before they were healed.
Sometimes obedience doesn’t make sense,
Until it does.
I am in Psalms in my daily Bible reading. In Psalm 142, David writes when he is in a cave, running for his life from King Saul:
“With my voice I cry out to the LORD; with my voice I plead for mercy to the LORD.
I pour out my complaint before him; I tell my trouble before him.” (Psalm 142:1-2 ESV).
We often feel guilty when we tell God our troubles and pour out our complaints to Him. Maybe that guilt comes because we remember how God reacted when Israel complained in the wilderness, and we don’t want to be like them.
Maybe we also think about Paul’s words that we are to “be content in all circumstances” (Philippians 4:11), and we feel like that leaves little room to complain, right?
Yet here in Psalm 142, we see David pouring out his complaint to God. So, how can we learn from David’s example and still avoid falling into the condemnation that fell on the Israelites?
The key difference is this: when David complains, it is never against God. David doesn’t accuse God of wrongdoing or question His goodness. But when Israel complained in the wilderness, their grumbling was aimed directly at God—doubting His provision, questioning His care, and even longing to return to Egypt, where they had been slaves!
“And the people complained in the hearing of the LORD about their misfortunes, and when the LORD heard it, his anger was kindled…” (Numbers 11:1 ESV).
When Paul tells us to be content, he is speaking about learning to accept our circumstances with grace and gratitude, trusting that God is with us in every situation:
“…for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content.” (Philippians 4:11 ESV).
David never complains about what God gives him—never saying it’s not enough or not what he wanted. David accepts God’s will with gratitude, even when it means hiding in caves or fleeing for his life.
So what did David complain about? What can we rightly bring to God in complaint?
When we read the Psalms, David often complains about the evil actions of men—those who attack him without cause, those who slander and plot against him. These are the thrust of many of the imprecatory Psalms, where David cries out for God to bring justice.
Think of Psalm 140:
“Deliver me, O LORD, from evil men; preserve me from violent men,
who plan evil things in their heart and stir up wars continually.” (Psalm 140:1-2 ESV).
Or Psalm 35:
“Contend, O LORD, with those who contend with me; fight against those who fight against me!” (Psalm 35:1 ESV).
Even in Revelation, the martyrs under the altar cry out to God in a complaint—not against God but against those who murdered them:
“They cried out with a loud voice, “O Sovereign Lord, holy and true, how long before you will judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?” (Revelation 6:10 ESV).
These kinds of complaints are not about resenting God’s blessings or doubting His care. Instead, they are cries for justice, trusting that God sees and will act.
And isn’t this what God wants us to do? Instead of taking matters into our own hands, we bring our grievances to Him and trust Him to deal with them:
“Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” (Romans 12:19 ESV).
So when we face injustice, when people do wrong to us, when evil seems to prevail, we can pour out our hearts to God. We can cast all our anxieties on him, because he cares for us (1 Peter 5:7 ESV).
Complaining to God in this way is not faithless—it’s an act of faith. It’s acknowledging that only God can make things right.
So let’s take our complaints to the One who listens, but let’s also examine our hearts to make sure we are not complaining about God but trusting Him with our troubles.