What a provocative quote! Is John of the Cross really saying what I think he’s saying? What does he mean when he insinuates that it pleases God to make the human soul “equal to himself”?
I was raised in a religious tradition (American Evangelicalism) that wouldn’t be able to make heads or tails of John’s words, one that has somehow become utterly convinced that God’s favorite pastime is to perpetually emphasize his greatness and our smallness. God is good; we are bad. He is perfect; we are flawed. He needs nothing from us; we need everything from him. He is the generous giver; we are the bankrupt receivers. The list goes on and on, exhaustingly so.
Perhaps this is why Jesus’s words in John 15:15 have become so precious to me in recent years. “I no longer call you servants,” he says, “instead, I have called you friends.” It’s as though Jesus is willing to tolerate the master-servant relationship for a time, but his true desire is to move toward genuine friendship, a relationship that is a two-way street. Friendship is inherently reciprocal—both sides give, both sides receive.
There is an insurmountable distance that always remains between masters and servants. Jesus wants to bridge that gap. He wants nearness. He wants intimacy. Jesus wants friends.
Christian mysticism has long-since been familiar with this reality, speaking of it as God’s desire for mutuality in her relationships with human beings. Janet Ruffing, in her masterwork Spiritual Direction: Beyond the Beginnings, describes it like this, “As the mystical process progresses beyond the beginnings to a predominantly unitive relationship with God, a sense of profound mutuality with God begins to become prominent.”1 And Ruffing continues, “For such intimacy to develop, however, feelings of inequality, either related to power or desire for one another, must eventually be overcome.”2 Relating to God as friends or lovers, rather than merely servants or slaves, can help us in this process of overcoming feelings of inequality and embracing the mutuality that God both initiates and invites.
Allow me to offer two examples from my own journey.
Example 1: A Recent Prayer Experience
During a recent contemplative gathering, the meeting’s facilitator hearkened to Revelation 3:20, inviting us to envision Jesus knocking on a door that we would approach and open. I imagined going to the door of my home-office, but when I opened it, no one was there. Turning around, I found Jesus already in the room, and upon seeing my initial look of surprise, he sheepishly asked, “Was I supposed to wait to be invited in? I let myself in a while ago. I’m sorry, I thought we were on those terms now.” He said this while gathering his things to leave apologetically, but I quickly reassured him, “We are, we are! Don’t be troubled, my friend. You’re right, we have an open-door policy, you and I.” He took a deep breath, relaxed, and sat back down.
“What were you doing in here before I noticed you?” I continued.
“Waiting for you, of course!” he responded. “I’ve been summoned as a mascot to a lot of gatherings lately that have made me very uncomfortable, and I wanted to spend some time with someone who gets me, with someone I can let my hair down with.”
I immediately caught his drift, imagining him squirming at any number of conservative political rallies held in his name. The real Jesus—the one who is so naïve and foolish as to instruct his followers to turn the other cheek to their assailants rather than preemptively strike both the cheeks of any would-be attackers (especially if they’re of the uranium-enriching variety)—would be booed off the stage by any crowd of red-blooded, card-carrying American evangelicals. Worse yet, they might even slap the scarlet letters R-I-N-O on him, which, as we all know, would mean Jesus isn’t even a real Christian.
How endearing it was that Jesus had come to receive from me! To receive company from someone who gets him, from someone he could be himself around. To receive my compassionate response and my listening ear. To experience the mutuality that is increasingly marking our relationship.
Example 2: Poetic Expression
The following poem touches on a number of themes, climaxing in a depiction of divine-human mutuality. Its closing lines constitute my best attempt to link real-world imagery with my unfolding experience of reciprocity with God.
God’s Middle Name
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1. Janet K. Ruffing, Spiritual Direction: Beyond the Beginnings (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 2000), 125.
2. Ibid., 126.
3. Ibid., 127.
4. Ibid.
5. Ibid., 150.
Richard H. Barry holds a doctorate in contemplative spirituality from Fuller Theological Seminary with emphases in the art of spiritual direction, models of the spiritual journey, and the intersection of Jungian psychology and Christian spirituality. Thankfully, he isn’t quite as pretentious as that jumble of words might suggest. He’s definitely a little pretentious, though.
