Have you ever tried going out on a date with God? It's a fun way of getting a new perspective on your relationship with the Divine.
 

God is gender neutral, so if you're a guy, you can date the feminine aspect of God and if you're a girl, you can date the masculine aspect of God. But be aware, you may have to pay for both of you up front because God's a bit like the British royal family in that He/She/It doesn't carry cash. You'll get the money back later because God plays fair, I promise!

Here's the story of my first date with God: I live in the heart of England and I was heading for London on the train for a day of business meetings. Throughout the journey my cell phone kept ringing; by the time I was in London, every single meeting had been cancelled. I had a choice: I could go straight home—or I could spend a day being free in a big city in scarlet heels and a fabulous business suit.

I knew I needed to take some time out, so I swallowed the guilt at not working and decided that this was as good a time as any for focusing on prayer. For once, I would allow God to be in charge of my life. I would go where He wanted me to go and do what He wanted me to do. So I asked God to take me out for the day. It meant letting go of any preconceived ideas of what I should do or where I could go and allowing the Universe to guide me 100 percent. God and I arranged to meet up at Euston Square tube station five minutes' walk away, and He was right on time. He offered to buy me some lilies from the flower stall outside the station, but I declined as I didn't want to carry them around with me all day.

We took the tube into the center of London. I asked God to draw my attention to an advertisement to tell me where we were going on our date and committed to letting go of control of the outcome. That was quite easy to do because I assumed that it would be something like a lunchtime concert at the Church of St. Martin-in-the-Fields. That would be relaxing and familiar—not too taxing for the heels! The first advertisement I saw was for the Victoria and Albert Museum. Resistance set in at once! It was a long way away from where we were, murder on the feet, and not at all spiritual. Going to a museum, I thought, would probably be rather boring—and suddenly I wanted to go shopping ...

“We're going to the museum,” said God. “Trust me, you'll like it.” Trust God? What an interesting concept.

On the way, God had a go at disconnecting my ego consciousness by suggesting that I look at the people in the tube train carriage through eyes other than my own. “Let me look through your eyes and tell you what I think,” He said. So I did, and I saw beauty and wisdom where otherwise I would have seen nothing to praise; I saw gentleness and strength where I would have made judgments. Only one person looked back at me, but there was such love in that glance that my heart jumped a beat. Interesting, no one except God sat next to me all the way to South Kensington.

We got to the museum and went in by the entrance that displays crockery from all around the world dating back to the Middle Ages. I really am not a fan of crockery, but God and I looked at two blue and white plates for a whole 20 minutes. Every time I tried to move on, I saw another fascinating image in the glaze. I looked for glory instead of passing by on the other side—and I found it. I thought about the people who had made the plates, and God told me how much He had enjoyed making the plates with them. I became a part of how their hands moved, how they reflected their own lives in their work. I envisioned where they lived, what kind of lifestyle they had. I wondered how they painted, what they used for color, what their workplace was like.

After two hours, God and I were about a quarter of the way down the gallery.

“Hey God,” I said. “We won't get round the museum at this rate.”

“Why do you want to get round the museum?”

“Well, to see everything.”

“You won't see anything, Maggy,” said God. “You'll just browse and move on. You won't see the splendor of creation because you won't be looking for it.”

We had a brief argument at that point because my persona wanted to disagree with this unpalatable truth. It had had enough of blue and white plates. After five spirited minutes (fortunately with no one else in the gallery at the time), we came to the resolution that we would move on but that God was to signal one thing in each gallery that He wanted me to see through His eyes.

Fabulous! I have never seen so much beauty, craft or delicacy. I have never had so much fun in a museum. I observed things that I never would have seen alone and thought thoughts I'd never thought before. I became aware of God's joy in the creativity of humanity; of how we had thought of things to make and do that God had never thought of on His own. And how incredibly proud and in awe of us God is when we are creators. “This is what I wanted of you,” He said. “Just this. Just the joy of creation in you.”

We got along well; it was like being with the best friend in the world. God checked out my feet in the scarlet heels and gave me a quick foot rub in the ladies' loo (nobody noticed Him there). My feet felt fine even though I was walking so much. We even told each other jokes in the Roman section while we were having a sit-down and a muse at the wonder of how we humans made metal and worked it into shapes that could serve us in a hundred ways. God knows all the best old jokes and, apparently, they're even better after a couple of thousand years of rest.

At 3 p.m. I was tired. “Shall we go somewhere else?” said God.

“Yes, please. Where?”

“Fortnum and Mason. Afternoon tea.”

Oh, boy, the resistance! Fortnum and Mason is the department store for the wealthy and privileged. It was miles away from the museum and far too expensive; I didn't want to have that much to eat; I didn't want to sit on my own in a restaurant—especially without a book or a magazine.

We went to Fortnum's. God does a neat job of temptation sometimes, promising me that we could just go and look and, if it was too scary, buy some chocolate instead.

The restaurant at Fortnum's is on the top floor. It is very elegant. You can have a full afternoon tea for about $50, with enough food for a small army with delicate manners. I truly didn't want that much, but there was always the possibility that they'd let me just have a cup of tea and a cake.

In through the swing doors I went—and straight out again. The room was full of suave-looking people in groups enjoying themselves, and it felt really intimidating. “Stop!” said God as I was halfway down the stairs. I stopped, reluctantly. “What's the matter?”

“I'm not going in there alone.”

“You're not alone; you're with Me.”

You know when there's a turning point in life? That was one of them for me. Did I want to believe what I was experiencing or to turn away from all this fun and abundance because I was embarrassed?

Oh, darn.

We went in together, God and I, and there was a little table with two armchairs free. The waiter was charming and sat me down there, and brought tea and two tiny, exquisite cakes. And I sat there for an hour, seemingly alone, dealing with all the suppositions that I had inside me about middle-aged women alone in restaurants. And after I'd dealt with all the rubbish, I did a kind of sacred idleness meditation with chocolate cake. And it was fine. After all, nobody else there cared who I was or what I was doing there; it was only my stuff. And it was very nice cake.

God and I had a good chat during tea. I learned a lot about self-esteem and not putting myself down and how I often used bravado instead of bravery and things like that. And we decided that we'd like to see each other again soon.

Then it was time to pay, so I paid—actually no more expensive than Starbucks! And I made my way to the station to take the train home to Worcestershire.

God saw me onto the train and let me go with a kiss (I had a good book to read, and I wanted some time on my own; He quite understood). I took a rain check on the lilies he offered me at the station for the same reason as before, but I did say it was a rain check and not a “no.” He promised he'd send them later.

As I took my ticket out to show to the inspector on the train, the receipt for Fortnum's came out of my bag too. I looked at it idly, preparing to scrunch it up to throw away.

“Tea and cakes for two,” it said.

God had landed me with the bill for his tea!

But how amazing that the staff at Fortnum's knew that I had had a companion sitting with me in their restaurant. I had not been alone for tea and cake, just as God had promised me. And how lovely it was to be picked up by my husband, Peter, who greeted me with a kiss and a big bunch of lilies. “I just got the urge to buy them on the way,” he said.

Well, he would, wouldn't he?

Thank you, God.

To comment on this story, send e-mail to Toni Lapp, lapptm@unityonline.org.

MAGGIE WHITEHOUSE, author of The Book of Deborah (Time Warner), The Marriage of Jesus (0 Books), The Little Book of Prosperity (T0L).