Sincere friendship towards God, in all who believe him to be

“Sincere friendship towards God, in all who believe Him to be properly an intelligent, willing being, does most apparently, directly, and strongly incline to prayer; and it no less disposes the heart strongly to desire to have our infinitely glorious.” Thus spoke Jonathan Edwards, that fiery voice of the Great Awakening, whose heart burned with the love of the Divine. His words, though clothed in the garments of theology, speak a truth older than time: that the truest friendship between man and God is not founded in fear or duty, but in sincerity, in the unguarded longing of the soul for communion with its Maker.

In the ancient world, when the stars were worshipped and men raised temples of marble to gods of their own making, there were yet those who sought the unseen, who called upon the heavens not as slaves but as friends. To be a friend of God is not a title lightly borne. It means to walk with reverence, yet without terror; to speak with awe, yet without pretense. When Edwards says that such friendship “inclines to prayer,” he means that prayer is not a ritual of words, but the natural speech of love. As a friend longs to speak with his beloved, so the faithful heart cannot help but turn its thoughts toward the Eternal, desiring to share its joy and sorrow alike.

Think of Abraham, called “the friend of God.” When fire was to fall upon Sodom, Abraham did not tremble and flee, nor did he hide behind false humility. He stood before the Almighty and pleaded, saying, “Wilt thou destroy the righteous with the wicked?” Such boldness was not born of arrogance, but of friendship — the sacred trust that dares to intercede, to reason, to speak heart to heart. Here we see the truth of Edwards’s words: that sincere friendship with God drives the soul to communion, to prayer that is neither cold formality nor fearful begging, but the honest conversation of love.

In this, sincerity is the soul’s purest mirror. For what is friendship, if not the meeting of two beings who understand each other’s hearts? The ancient poets said that gods desire sincerity more than sacrifice, for no altar is more pleasing than a heart that opens itself without guile. To see God as an intelligent, willing being is to know that He is not a distant flame, but a living presence — one who listens, who chooses, who loves. When one realizes this, the heart cannot help but burn with the wish to see His infinite glory made manifest, to see His beauty reflected in all creation, and to draw nearer to Him as the moth to the flame.

The lives of the saints and mystics bear witness to this truth. Brother Lawrence, a humble cook in a monastery, found heaven not in cloisters or sermons, but in his daily labor. As he peeled potatoes or washed pots, he prayed constantly, saying that he “possessed God as much in the kitchen as at the altar.” This was friendship — the quiet companionship of the soul with its Creator. His life reminds us that prayer is not confined to the lips, but breathes through every act done in love. It is not ceremony, but communion; not performance, but presence.

So let us understand, then, that sincere friendship towards God is not reserved for prophets and priests alone. It is offered to all who will look upon Heaven not as a throne of judgment, but as a friend’s dwelling. To cultivate such friendship is to awaken the spirit within, to let every heartbeat become a prayer, every act a token of love. When one truly knows God as a willing, intelligent Being, one no longer prays out of fear or custom, but out of a deep and burning desire — to see Him known, to see Him glorified, to walk in His light as friend walks with friend.

Therefore, my child, learn this lesson well: pray not because you must, but because you love. Seek not only blessings, but companionship with the Divine. Speak honestly, as a friend would speak to one who understands. Give thanks not only for the gifts of life, but for the Giver Himself. And above all, live so that your every thought, every labor, every breath, is touched by sincerity. For in the end, as Jonathan Edwards knew, the greatest glory of man is not in his deeds nor his wisdom, but in his friendship with the Infinite — a friendship that transforms prayer into presence, and presence into eternal joy.