Friendship with God

I love Genesis 18. Not sure I understand it, but I love it. Friendship with God. Abraham is hanging out at the entrance to his tent in the heat of the day when he looks up and sees three men. Here's the first thing I don't get -- verse 1 says that the Lord appeared to Abraham; verse 2 says Abraham looks up and sees three men. Now is one of these "men" actually God? Is he the pre-incarnate Christ? Who are the other two -- angels? Abraham seems to know the men are important or perhaps he doesn't get many visitors or perhaps all visitors are important. At any rate, he invites them to sit under a tree to rest and wash their feet. The text doesn't say this, but I'm thinking servants came to wash their feet and wait on them while Abraham saw to the arrangements for an impromptu feast. He had Sarah bake bread and a servant slaughter a choice calf. But he doesn't eat with them. He stands nearby while they eat. The Lord tells Abraham that he will return in a year's time and that Sarah will have given birth to the long-promised son. Sarah laughs, and God reminds the couple that nothing is too difficult for him. Then Abraham engages in a back-and-forth bargaining with God over the future of Sodom and Gomorrah. He is amazingly bold in his pleading that God spare the cities for a handful of righteous men. God agrees that for the sake of ten righteous men he will not destroy the cities, and the chapter ends. Laughter, food, foot-washing, conversation, boldness, a direct promise -- the stuff of real friendship.

In today's devotional, Oswald suggested that I think back to the last thing I prayed about. I prayed about my lost shoe. Disgustingly trivial, I know. Clearly, I am a long way from the scene described in Genesis 18. God has refugee camps flooding in Haiti to think about, and I'm bothering him with my lost shoe. The thing is, however, God's mind has no limits. I am not distracting him from more important things when I ask about my lost shoe, and God knows how immature I am. He knows how quickly I lose perspective when hunting through the house for one of the five or six things I lose every week. He knows how I deteriorate into self-abasement over my abysmal housekeeping and organizational skills, and how that grumpy tone affects not only my day, but all the people with whom I come into contact over the course of my day as well . . . so I prayed about my lost shoe. Was I devoted to my desire or to God's? Well, certainly at one level, my desire was to find my lost shoe, but on another level, I think my desire was to bring God into my everyday life. And, let's face it, sometimes my life is trivial.

I don't mean to imply that God is obligated to help me find my shoe, or a parking place, or any of the other trivial matters that I face on a daily basis, but neither do I believe that he is disgusted with me for turning to him. He knows that I am but dust, and in his patience, he teaches me patience, as well.