There is a progression in the Song of Solomon through which Madame Guyon defines maturity:
My beloved [is] mine, and I [am] his: he feedeth among the lilies.
I [am] my beloved's, and my beloved [is] mine: he feedeth among the lilies.
I [am] my beloved's, and his desire [is] toward me.
In her youth, the Shulamite focuses on how her Lord is hers. In her maturity, she forgets that she owns anything, remembering only that she is happy to be owned.
The other night, I was sitting around being happy that God was my God - mine - and Guyon rose from the fogs to chide my immaturity. Could His love be reduced to a thing I might possess? Did He rejoice that that I was concerned with what my possessions were and were not? Was I not entirely fulfilled just to be His?
And well, no, I wasn't entirely fulfilled just to be His.
Maybe it was immaturity, but I wanted Him to be mine, too. I started wrastling around verses and wondering what God thought of this question. This time that didn't seem to work. God didn't seem to think this way, or at least He had not said a whole bunch about the problem. This usually means it's not a real problem, but Guyon's progression sure seemed solid.
Then I realized something. If God were not mine, then nothing was. To possess a thing is to be able to use it, to enjoy it, to benefit from it as needed or even just wanted. Could that be said of my car? Hardly. In just a few short years it will be gone. It is at best an overnight rental. In a blink, I would have no car. Or friends? A friend is a friend up until I offend him. Brothers and sisters in the Lord? Here is an odd case. Brothers and sisters in the Lord are mine, and will be forever, but they are not entirely available to me now. Between the crush of time on our lives and their flesh and mine all working against the perfect bond of love, they will be dependable forever but are not terribly dependable now.
God is my refuge and friend now and forever.
If God is not mine today, nothing is.