My two-month old loves to be held closely. When I can't use my arms, I'll put her in a carrier sling and secure her safely to my chest. She loves the feeling of being snug. She likes to be wrapped tightly. It makes her feel secure. It makes her feel safe.
I remember when my first baby was born at the hospital. My husband and I were full of first-time-parent feelings. We were nervous, tired, and emotional. I would cringe when the nurses would come in to check my newborn. I knew that what they needed to do was important, but I also knew that he would cry as soon as they took him from my arms. I wanted our son to feel safe and secure, and it pained me to let go of him...even for a moment. The tension melted away when the nurse would swaddle him and place him back in my arms. His cries faded into a soft whimper, and before I knew it we were both quiet and content.
Like my children, security is a feeling I desperately desire. I desire security because my security is so closely linked to my identity. When I feel secure in who I am, I am confident and unshakable. In those moments I feel inspired and creative. I open the door to make great discoveries and have amazing accomplishments.
All children are born with the need and want to be secure. It reminds them of the close-quarters of the womb. I'm sure I felt that way when I was born too. I'm positive of it. But, at some point in my life I stopped liking it. I developed an independence that made me not want to be held anymore. Thinking back to my adolescence, I remember feeling really upset about the way I looked. I was overwhelmed by my acne, my braces, and my need for glasses. When my mom tried to comfort me and hug me I would just push her away. I didn't want to be comforted. For some reason, I was more interested in feeling insecure and frustrated than secure and affirmed by my mother.
I can feel myself doing this to God. When I start to feel insecure in my identity I know I'm pushing Him away. I start to feel sad, upset...even depressed. That blanket of security--the one that swaddled me safe in the arms of the Father--was ripped away from me. And, now the foundation of my identity in Christ is being tested. I start asking all of these questions like, "who am I?" and "what's my purpose?"
It's only when I allow myself to be put back into the arms of God that I'm reminded of who I am. I am a child of God.
"The Father has loved us so much that we are called children of God. And we really are His children." (1 John 3:1a)
As a teenager, I thought letting my mother hold and comfort me would be restrictive. I thought I would be pigeon-holed into feeling a certain way, or being told to act a certain way, or even being told to feel a certain way. Many times I recognize those same fears in people who are unsure in their faith. But, what they might not know is that a life wrapped in the Father's arms isn't restrictive at all. No, it's freeing. It's confidence-creating. It's adventurous and exciting.
"God’s Spirit beckons. There are things to do and places to go!
This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It’s adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike “What’s next, Papa?” God’s Spirit touches our spirits and confirms who we really are. We know who he is, and we know who we are: Father and children." (Romans 8:14-17a)
So as I rest in the security of my loving Heavenly Father, I listen to what He has to say. I let him tell me who I am, and who I am meant to be. As I believe His words, I find out who I really am. With confidence, I say, "What's next, Daddy? Where will you take me?" And, here, in His arms, is where my adventure begins.
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