You believe in God; believe also in me.
Yep. I’m still in verse one here and there are so many things to consider already. First, this word believe. Sigh. This is such a tricky word. My “I think therefore I am” influence begins to show itself here. In my left-brained, Western thinking I can read it like this:
Believe in God.
Believe in Jesus.
Check. And, check. As if getting out my “statement of faith” and giving it a good once over will set me right again. Only thing missing here is the Holy Spirit box, and I can check that one too. Whew! I’m all good here.
Except, I’m not.
My heart is still distressed, right? My belief boxes are somehow incapable of creating the transformation I need.
Oh wait! I know what to do! It always helps to check a few other translations. And here I do find help from the Complete Jewish Bible (CJB):
Trust in God and trust in me.
That’s right. I remember now that important distinction the CJB always makes with this tricky word. It is almost always translated as trust there. Now I’m headed in a better direction. I’ve moved out of the theoretical and am making my way toward the practical. I’m moving away from what I “know” into what I can “sense.”
Trust is based, not on what I should think, but on what I’ve experienced.
Trust is built over time, one small act of attachment building on another. When an infant cries, and a loving caregiver shows up, an invisible strand of trust is formed between their hearts. Answered cry after answered cry is forming an attachment that is not easily broken. An old wise mama I knew called it heart strings. The psychological community would call it a secure attachment.
When we have a secure attachment to our heavenly father, we know that when we cry, he will come. And when he does, we will be safe. Head knowledge of God’s power and omnipotence will not do the trick. It must be the experience of His presence that washes over us. And when we are in a season or moment of distress, our souls bear the brunt of the dissonance between what our mind knows and what our body has experienced. So which one wins?
Even though we may have hundreds of memories where God has been attentive to our cries, we may have thousands of other memories when our heart’s cry was unmet, even by the most loving and well intentioned caregivers. And though we may have forgiven and think we have worked through it all, our bodies tend to believe the thousands over the hundreds. This can leave us with a less than secure attachment style with the Lord, as we project whatever attachment style we developed through childhood onto Him.*
And if you also factor in our brain’s negativity bias design, those thousand turn out to be more like tens of thousands, simply because our brain weighs them that way in order to keep us safe. And it does its job really well! (Remember…the amygdala is our friend!)
So what are we to do?!? Sounds like we’re stuck. But we’re not. We can develop a secure attachment with our perfect Heavenly Father. And this is where the next sentence is going to drop the bomb.
But first, let’s pause to consider.
How do you picture the Lord responding to your distress? I’m not asking how you should picture him, or how you wish you pictured him. See if you can answer that question without judging yourself or needing to fix it. Just notice.
When you try to picture it, does an image come to mind? If so, notice everything you can…his posture, facial expressions, proximity. Do you picture him near or far? Busy or attentive? Warm or cold? If not an image, do you get a sense or a feeling about God & your distress?
Then, when you feel ready, simply ask…
Lord Jesus Christ, how do you feel about my distress?
Write down what you hear, sense, or feel. I promise, He is excited about having this conversation with you.
*For a more in depth look at how attachment styles impact our relationship with our Heavenly Father, I highly recommend The Emmanuel Promise, by Reverend Summer Joy Gross
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