FRIENDS: But Are You One?

Two young men standing against a gray wall, exuding casual style and friendship vibes.

“But Are You One?” – A Convicting Look at Friendship with the Most High

“But Are You One?” – A Convicting Look at Friendship with the Most High

We talk a lot about being “friends of God.” We post it, sing it, quote it, and some even tattoo it — but what does that really mean? When the Ruach HaQodesh, the Holy Spirit, whispers “Don’t watch that,” or “Forgive her,” or “Come away with Me in prayer,” do we respond? Or do we brush Her off like a background voice, convenient when needed and silenced when not? If we’re being honest, most of us treat the Father, the Word, and the Ruach worse than we treat actual friends. And if you treated a real friend the way you treat the Most High — only calling when you’re in trouble, ignoring them when they speak — they would’ve stopped answering your messages a long time ago.

This is the uncomfortable truth: friendship without obedience is rebellion in disguise. You say you love the Most High. You say He’s your friend. But when Yashayah said, “Ye are my friends, if ye do whatsoever I command you” (John 15:14), did your heart flinch? Did you mentally skip over that verse, or water it down into something more “graceful” and less “legalistic”? The reality is many of us are not walking in friendship — we’re walking in transactional religion, dressed in praise songs and Sunday rituals. We cry, “Father, I need You!” but ignore the Ruach when She says, “Come away from that man,” “Stop watching filth,” “Guard your mouth,” or simply, “Repent.” That is not relationship. That is spiritual manipulation.

And what’s worse is that many don’t even realize how deeply they’ve grieved the Spirit. The Ruach HaQodesh isn’t just your comforter — She’s your corrector. She is holy and cannot be reduced to a motivational quote. She warns in temptation, nudges in disobedience, and speaks Scripture you “accidentally forgot.” But when we silence Her consistently — when we avoid conviction in favor of comfort — we push away the very presence we claim to want. And still, we post things like “God is good all the time,” as if His goodness is only measured by answered prayers and financial breakthroughs. Is He good to you — or just useful?

This isn’t just about friendship. It’s about sonship. We don’t need another friend to co-sign our feelings. We need a Father — a righteous, consuming Father who doesn’t bend to our moods or our opinions. He doesn’t seek our validation; He demands our obedience. Revelation 3:19 says, “As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten: be zealous therefore, and repent.” We’ve spent years calling Him Friend, all while living like orphans — refusing correction, avoiding sanctification, and choosing worldliness over worship.

And the truth is, we want access to the Most High — without alignment. We want to hear His voice, but not heed His Word. We want to receive His Spirit, but not relinquish our sin. We want to feel close to Him, but stay close to the world. That’s not friendship. That’s entitlement. James 4:4 makes it clear: “Know ye not that the friendship of the world is enmity with God?” We cannot hold hands with Babylon and claim to be the bride.

So cry if you must — but don’t stay the same. Let the tears fall. Let the conviction cut. You’ve lied to yourself long enough. You’ve played church. You’ve played holy. You’ve played “deep.” But deep calls unto deep — and you’ve been hiding in the shallow end, afraid to go all in. It’s time to stop asking for another reminder. You don’t need another sermon. You need repentance. Get on your face. Confess how you’ve treated the Holy Spirit like a silent partner. Admit how you’ve called Yashayah “Lord,” but haven’t done what He said. And stop trying to be “God’s bestie.” Be His child. Be His servant. Be His obedient vessel. Then — and only then — will He call you His friend.

Don’t claim “Friends” as your spiritual status if obedience isn’t your lifestyle. Because true friendship with Ahayah requires sacrifice. It requires sanctification. It requires you to die to yourself — every single day. Cry, repent, rise up, and walk differently.