We Are Friends of God

Today, the counselor emphasized, “We are friends of God.” They did not say, “We are friends.” Yet one leapt to affirm, “We are friends,” and then walked back the comment. The mistake became clear: a paid counselor is not a friend. There can be agreement, even laughter, but the therapeutic relationship has safety rails around it. One realized that the counselor and the client are not friends.

The paid nature of the service implies measured communication. The client may become wild or impertinent. One was glib. It became the counselor’s role to reinforce those safety rails around the working relationship.

This brought to mind a past therapeutic situation, when one mistook a doctor’s kindness and humor for friendship. The client didn’t understand how that same doctor could also commit someone to a hospital indefinitely. He had the authority to remove a person from their family and home if he deemed them a danger. The warmth of the doctor’s demeanor masked the gravity of his power. That caregiving arrangement ended abruptly, and one felt caught off guard—sad and deprived.

Today’s reminder—“We are friends of God”—echoed with meaning. Glibness, one now understands, is speaking too quickly and taking the situation too lightly.

One was accused of such speech once. There is regret over words that verged on rudeness during a commemoration after a peer’s death. When a peer dies, it is not the time to rush to comment or make light of the moment. To do so is to lack gravity. It is good manners to speak quietly then, with a sober demeanor.

Perhaps today’s mild rebuke arose from taking the counselor’s attention for granted, and not honoring the seriousness of the therapeutic agreement.