“Only those thoughts I think with God are real.” — A Course in Miracles, Lesson 45
There is something quietly radical about this statement. At first glance, it sounds poetic, perhaps even sentimental. But like much of A Course in Miracles, it doesn’t merely aim to comfort — it intends to dismantle.
What we call “thinking” is often a ceaseless swirl of worry, judgment, planning, reminiscing, defending, regretting, fearing, imagining, labeling. But the Course insists that most of these activities aren’t thinking at all — they are echoes of a mistaken identity. They are the mind’s attempt to affirm itself as separate, threatened, and alone.
To say that only the thoughts we think with God are real is to strip away an enormous chunk of what we casually accept as our mental life. And if that’s true — if most of our thoughts are not real — then we’re not merely suffering from bad moods. We’re suffering from false perception.
Let’s test it. Consider some sample thoughts you might recognize:
- “I’m not good enough.”
- “Something terrible is going to happen.”
- “They never appreciate me.”
- “I can’t forgive what they did.”
- “I’ll be happy when I finally get what I want.”
- “I’ve wasted too much of my life.”
We’ve all thought them. Some are familiar guests; others are full-time tenants. But ask yourself: Could God think this with me? Would Infinite Love join me in this thought?
Would the Voice for Truth ever whisper, “You’re not enough”? Would God forecast doom and hold grudges? Would the Creator of Time declare a life “wasted”? Of course not.
These are thoughts of fear, scarcity, blame, and shame — the very ingredients of separation. They speak not of what is real, but of what is believed. And belief, as powerful as it seems, does not create truth.
Now compare:
- “I am loved beyond measure.”
- “I am safe in the mind of God.”
- “My brother and I are one.”
- “I forgive because only love is real.”
- “Right now, I can choose peace.”
- “There is another way of looking at this.”
These are not merely affirmations — they are reminders of our real inheritance. They do not come from us as separate selves; they come through us when we quiet the noise of the ego. These are thoughts with God — thoughts of peace, healing, safety, unity, and joy. They do not condemn; they correct. They do not divide; they join. And most importantly, they do not fade — they feel eternal.
The Course doesn’t ask us to stop thinking. It invites us to choose a different source of thought. The ego mind is a compulsive chatterbox, constantly spinning stories of lack, defense, judgment, and attack. The God-mind is still, quiet, and clear — always speaking of love, always offering peace, always present.
So why do we keep returning to the ego’s thoughts? Because they feel familiar. Because they echo the world around us. Because they seem urgent, important, actionable. But urgency is not a sign of truth — it’s often a sign of fear. And truth, like love, needs no urgency. It simply is.
There is a simple litmus test for whether a thought is real: Does it bring peace? Not temporary relief, not righteous victory, not smug satisfaction — but deep, unshakeable peace. If not, it may be a thought about something — but not a thought with God.
The idea that “only the thoughts I think with God are real” isn’t meant to condemn our human thinking. It’s meant to liberate it. It’s not that you shouldn’t think — it’s that you were meant to think with Love. When you do, your thoughts stop hurting you. They become healing agents for yourself and others.
This is not about striving for some holy mindset all day long. It’s about noticing — gently — when you’re choosing thoughts that God could never share. And then, in that pause, inviting something greater.
A Course in Miracles often reminds us, “I do not understand what anything is for.” But it also reminds us of the Voice that does understand — and that waits, patiently, to be heard.
When you think with God, your thoughts are not alone. They carry the power of Heaven. They do not pass — they extend. And in that extension, they bless. That is your natural inheritance — not as a reward, but as a reality waiting to be remembered.
So today, if you find yourself in a storm of thoughts, ask: Would God think this with me? If the answer is no, then choose again. A better thought is waiting. It always is.I’d love to hear your thoughts—yes, even the ones you think with me. If this essay stirred something in you, or if you have questions, reflections, or ideas for future topics you’d like me to explore, I warmly invite you to reach out. You can email me directly at robert@dinojamesbooks.com. I value this dialogue and welcome your voice in the ongoing conversation.
