Finding Security Amidst the Storms: How to Find Your Secure Attachment in God-With-UsSample

Sometimes the spiritual life feels more like wrestling than an invitation to an embrace. It feels more like the story of Jacob in hand-to-hand combat than the glorious visions of the angels ascending and descending the ladder to heaven. Just remember—both of these experiences happened to the same person. It may seem like a contradiction, but it’s a clear picture of the uncomfortable dissonance in most of our spiritual journeys.

But dissonance, dear friends, can lead us straight into the arms of God even though we’re wrestling. The question is, Will we continue wrestling through the night, inviting God into our doubts and pain, holding on until the blessing is given, or will we walk away?

Dear one, what if God is inviting you to bring Him your fiercest battle? He desires you to place the full power of your inner storms into His waiting arms. He prefers your authentic engagement over your limp assent.

In the wrestling of the dark night of the soul, ego and self-assuredness are stripped. Everything we have been using to control our world has experienced a disruption. For most, the darkness reveals the cracks in our image of God and the way we’ve coddled our false ego.

In suffering, our pride is dismantled brick by brick.

As our titles are stripped, we find we are blessed to be a child of God, no more, no less. We are no longer naming ourselves or asking others to name us, because we are named by another. We find we are in the school of love. We become open to relationship with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, not using Him for our ends, but ready for a new type of cruciform surrender. We become softer, more compassionate.

Our job? To keep wrestling. Paying attention to our questions is brave. Don’t be afraid of doubt. Doubt can be the doorway to a deeper faith. Dear one, He can handle it. He’s big enough to hold it all.

Finally, I want to encourage you to keep wrestling with your face turned toward God. Part of our ultimate healing is allowing every doubt, each “Where were you?” and every “If only you had been there!” to rise up before Him. We stay in the ring with God, even through the hot tears, the disappointments, and the dismantling.

In our wrestling, we feel His compassion. He knows what the questions have cost. He understands the suffering that has led us to this point. We sense Jesus, our Emmanuel, the same One who cried out in Gethsemane, drawing near with compassion—refusing to leave, holding us through the weeping.

Eventually, the one we wrestle with becomes the one whose arms we rest in. Eventually the dawn comes, and we receive a new blessing, a new name, and the invitation to a new vocation.