Attachment has been a subject of growing interest in the mental health field for some time. It is the relational bond that starts in infancy between a child and caregiver. We carry it with us throughout our lives, a template for forming all new relationships. Attachment styles vary along a spectrum of relative health and unhealth, and are a contributing factor to mental health or distress. They also help explain the repeated patterns in our own and others relational histories.

While fixed, they are also malleable. Meaning, that if you inherited an unhealthy attachment style from your parents, you are not necessarily stuck with it. It is hard work changing attachment patterns, but it can be done through therapy. A growing body of research endeavors to help people do just that. It’s all very fascinating to me.

I think about attachment a lot, because of my work. But the other day I found myself thinking about it in reference to my relationship with God.

One of the key concepts in attachment literature is the idea of a secure base. It refers to the way children use their caregiver as a relational launching point from which to go out and explore their world, and to which they regularly return to recharge. You can observe it most easily in infants and young children, because of the frequency with which they return. As children grow, they become more independent and are content to go for longer and longer periods of time between these check-ins. 

If you’ve never noticed it before, keep an eye out the next time you are in a place with tiny humans. Maybe a park. Maybe a family reunion. Maybe one of those padded climbing play spaces in the mall. If you stop and observe silently for 30 minutes, you will likely see multiple repetitions of tiny humans venturing out… and returning… venturing out… and returning… venturing out… and returning.

So I was thinking about this… and God.  And it struck me: what if prayer is just supposed to be me returning to God as my secure base? What if, in this crazy world, God wants to be my emotional docking point? Not my phone. Or food. Or any number of other good-or-sometimes-not-so-good things in my environment. Maybe that is part of the invitation of Christ to “become like little children” (Matthew 18:3).

And here’s what’s beautiful: God is different from us. He never gets tired, or stressed out. He never has a bad night’s sleep, or a lousy work day, or unresolved conflict with another member of the Trinity. The endless childish bids for attention which sometimes wear us human parents out… God doesn’t get overwhelmed like that. He is the (only) Perfect Parent. Full of limitless love, and energy, and listening capacity.

So maybe today, when you feel yourself wearing thin… maybe it’s time to just sit with Dad for a minute, before going out to deal with the universe some more.