Weekly Devotional: March 24
Secure Child
By Summer Joy Gross
From pages 75-77 of The Emmanuel Promise
For ten years, my husband and I pastored a church in South Haven, Michigan -- Priscilla and Aquila style, passing babies back and forth between the sermon and the announcements. All three of our children were born right there in the village hospital. We loved our town.
The grass of the city block-sized park on the bluff in South Haven runs nearly up to Lake Michigan. You can watch kids on the monkey bars and turn and see a white sailboat catch a breeze beside the red, metal lighthouse. We lived where others vacationed.
Our little yellow cottage was just five blocks away from the park. On summer afternoons, I piled the kids into the stroller. Maddie rode in back, standing on a step stool, just peeking over the orange umbrella. Caedmon dribbled a soccer ball beside us, learning to anticipate the sidewalk's uneven folds with every bounce. Xavier sat in front in a blue Superman shirt borrowed from a pajama ensemble, a red cape Velcroed to the shoulders.
As soon as we arrived and parked the stroller, Maddie and Caedmon ran off to visit their favorite sections of the wooden park. They are nineteen months apart-easy companions. Every once in a while, they returned for a juice box before running after newly made friends.
But Xavier's big blue eyes never strayed from my gaze for long. The more attached a child is at that age, the more they will keep their caregiver in view. As he climbed steps and slid down slides, his Superman cape flying, he glanced up as if asking, "Did you see that, Mom?" looking for my delight to match his. Occasionally, he came back for my hand, and I coached him over the balance beam or held him up to grasp the monkey bars. After a scrape, he buried his face in my shoulder, angry, frustrated, and hurt. I smelled his salty, sweaty head and held him close until he calmed down enough to sit on my lap, looking outwards. Eventually he grabbed a handful of Pepperidge Farm fish crackers I offered him. Then, comforted, he ventured off again.
No one had told him to discount his emotions or dismiss his needs or stop listening to the ups and downs of his nervous system. Children who are securely attached are intuitive in seeking care. Hungry? Run to mom. Frustrated? Run back to her arms to calm down. Relaxed and regulated, they venture forth to conquer. They experience comfort and care in the secure base of their mother's arms, venture out to explore, and then run back to security over and over as needed, searching for Mom's attentive gaze.
We see this same intuition to seek care clearly in Psalm 18:
In my distress I called to the LORD; I cried to my God for help, From his temple he heard my voice; my cry came before him, into his ears. (v. 6)
He reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters. (v. 16)
He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me. (v. 19)
Later in the chapter, after David rests in God's delight, he once again feels empowered and ready to explore.
It is God who arms me with strength and keeps my way secure. He makes my feet like the feet of a deer; he causes me to stand on the heights....You provide a broad path for my feet, so that my ankles do not give way. (vv. 32-33, 36)
Somewhere along the road, we stopped listening to our bodies basic messages. We learned to grit it out and turn off the messages of our healthy needs. We stopped crying out. We learned which emotions were acceptable to our caregivers and earned comfort and which ones we needed to drop from our repertoire. Unfortunately, this sifting ended up creating little caricatures of our true selves. We became either people pleasers who were more in tune with our parents' inner world than our own or children who stopped listening to our needs altogether. We stopped running to parental arms for comfort.
Listening to our bodies' messages becomes part of our journey to secure attachment to God. It is an invitation to become childlike. Listen to the words of Emmanuel: "Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven" (Matt. 18:3). We need to become guileless again.
In order to develop an earned secure attachment, we start by relearning our instincts and listening to our needs. Please note that I didn't say obeying our instincts. We listen and come, allowing God to discern them with us.
Scripture
Psalms 18:6 NIV
“In my distress I called to the Lord; I cried to my God for help. From his temple he heard my voice; my cry came before him, into his ears.”
Practice
Close your eyes. Imagine yourself as a child. Reach out to God, maybe even physically by raising your arms. Call his name. Imagine him turning to you in love and meeting the needs you bring to him.
Journal Reflection
Is it easy or difficult to imagine God as a good Father who pays attention to you, helps you, loves you, and watches over you? Why? Talk with God about what you notice and ask him to heal your view of him as a good Father.
Prayer
God, you are a good Father. Help us to trust in your love and in your care. Help us to turn to you continually to have our needs met, to find security, to be encouraged, and to find love. Remind us that you love it when we come to you. Thank you, God, for the way you love us. Amen.
