The Problem with Divine Bromance

Let’s be honest—somewhere along the way, in the well-meaning marshmallow fluff of modern faith, ‘being a friend of God’ got a little… weird.

I blame the songs. You know the ones. ‘I am a friend of God, He calls me friend’—cue the guitar solo and spiritual fist pump. Don’t get me wrong, the sentiment is beautiful, but if we’re not careful, we start picturing ourselves and God in matching pyjamas, binge-watching Netflix and passing the popcorn. “God, that thunderstorm was epic! High five, bro!”

Which is adorable. But also mildly heretical.

So let’s set the record straight: being a friend of God is not the same as being a peer of God. And thank goodness.

We live in an age where we’ve flattened everything—hierarchies, sacredness, even our coffee (thanks, flat whites). And somewhere in our quest for intimacy with God, we’ve confused friendship with peer-familiarity. In our world, then, a friend is someone on our level. But God is not on our level. God made our level.

Now before you accuse me of being the fun police let me take you to the Bible—because yes, God does call people friends.

Abraham was a friend of God. Moses, spoke to God face-to-face like a friend. Jesus even said to His disciples, ‘I no longer call you servants… I have called you friends’ (Jn 15:15). The very idea of this is breathtaking!

But here’s the kicker, though: none of those people ever acted like God was their peer.

Abraham fell on his face when God showed up. Moses glowed like a celestial lightbulb and had to veil himself. The disciples dropped everything and followed Jesus like their lives depended on it—which they sort of did.

This wasn’t a casual friendship. This was a friendship defined by awe, trust, love, and utter respect.

God’s friendship is not a demotion of His divinity. It’s an invitation into something wild and holy.

Aslan in The Chronicles of Narnia is not a tame lion—but he’s good. You don’t slap him on the back and say, ‘Yo, bro, let’s hit the pub.’ You approach with reverence—and somehow, in that sacred space, He calls you friend.

To be God’s friend is to live in holy paradox: loved beyond measure, yet small before His majesty. It means God doesn’t treat you like a project or a pawn, but a person—made in His image, drawn into His purpose. But it also means you’re not the one calling the shots.

And honestly? That’s way better than peer status.

You don’t need a God who’s just like you. You need a God who is infinitely more than you, yet chooses to walk with you anyway. A God who listens to your rants, for sure, and will be present to you through your every stuggle and joy—but also a God who reshapes your heart. Who sees all your mess and still invites you into the mystery of divine friendship.

A peer can sympathise, but only God can save.

So yes, you are a friend of God. But don’t shrink that into some cosmic bromance. Let it be what it really is: a wild, unbalanced, beautiful relationship where the Creator of galaxies calls you close—not because you’re equals, but because He is love.

And because somehow, mysteriously, impossibly He wants to know you and me.