He Calls Me His

We were singing a song in church this past Sunday, 'He Calls Me Friend'. I hear it on the radio all the time, and it's a beautiful song, yet, and I don't know why, I can't sing the right words to it. I feel...disrespectful. It may be scriptural, I don't know, I've never looked it up. It goes, "I am a friend of God, (repeat 3 times), He calls me friend". But every time we sing it at church, each time I hear it on the radio, I sing it "I am a child of God ,(3 times) He calls me His"...and every time it gives me chills. It never ceases to amaze me that it is completely and without a doubt, true. I, little ole' me, silly, trippin over my feet as well as my tongue at times, me. He, the Creator of all things, Love Itself, calls me His child. He claims me, He loves me, He calls me His!
I'm reminded of my kid's friends that I've known since my kids were in kindergarten. Some of these kids I've known for over 10 years now. I've seen them go through many, many things. Some things I've cried in pride over, some things I've cried in heartache from. One of Charlie's friends from childhood was in a knife fight about 3 years ago and a few years later he attacked a police officer. I've watched this child grow up, I know where he's came from and understand what he's had to live through. Though Charlie and he are still friends, they're not close in the sense that they hang together anymore. Every time I see this young man he gives me a hard hug and I tell him I love him. Charlie and I do still love this young man, we always will. It's a reminder of how though we're still in this world, we are not of it. I can not turn my back on this young man because I still see that sweet little boy's smile light his face, I still see the innocence in his eyes that I once knew a long time ago. As much as I love this young man, and I'd consider him mine if someone were to come against him and it were within my power to save him...he isn't mine. I know for a fact that the pain I felt when I heard he'd been stabbed wouldn't have compared to what I'd have felt if I'd been told Charlie had been stabbed. The disappointment that broke my heart when I heard he'd attacked a police officer would have paled in comparison to what I'd felt if it'd been one of my own children involved.

How much more the Father feels for us because He does calls us HIS. We ARE His children. He sees and suffers what we face, what we struggle through, as well as rejoices our triumphs, what we over come and what we make Him proud of because we are His.

Friend? Please...I'm His child. He calls me His.