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.
Yes, it's illogical.
But every time I have an upcoming event for my novels, and am loading all the necessities into the car, I can't bear to load Racer, my squirrel puppet, overnight. I just can't. I don't wish to envision this charming guy waiting in a dark and lonely car boot when his usual place is atop our printer next to my computer. My husband, Danny, laughs, though kindly, at my eccentricity.
I know . . .
But remnants of childhood imaginings rule the day for me when it comes to Racer. He is a part of me, not just mentally in my books, but physically when my hand's movements transform his inert image, and his character comes to life with the mere wiggle of fingers. My antics with him intrigue passers-by with a gamut of reactions: amused; surprised; confused; startled, but most of all, engaged.
I know I would neither see nor realize all those emotions in strangers were it not for Racer. The actions of my arm, my fingers, are God-willed in making him come to life; some folks even do double takes, thinking for a brief moment that he is a real, live, breathing squirrel!
And as strange as it may sound, Racer is alive to me.
A loyal companion.
Realer than real.
Truer than true.
Not my servant, but my friend.
How does knowing you are Jesus' friend, not His servant, affect you?
Prayer: Father, it sounds illogical and irrational that Your beloved Son, Jesus, would call us His friends, yet that is exactly what He did and continues to do. May we ever celebrate the new life You have given us through Jesus, and show the world what it means to be His friend. It is in His precious name, we pray. Amen.