Safety, Security, Happiness, and Belonging
AM Psalm 88 • PM Psalm 91, 92
Num. 13:1-3,21-30 • Rom. 2:25-3:8 • Matt. 18:21-35
Psalm 91 bears the words and images that have shaped my relationship with and trust in Christ. When I read lines like,
He will cover you with his feathers,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.
You will not fear the terror of night,
nor the arrow that flies by day,
nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,
nor the plague that destroys at midday.
A thousand may fall at your side,
ten thousand at your right hand,
but it will not come near you.
And definitely,
If you say, “The Lord is my refuge,”
and you make the Most High your dwelling,
no harm will overtake you,
no disaster will come near your tent.
For he will command his angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways;
they will lift you up in their hands,
so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.
You will tread on the lion and the cobra;
you will trample the great lion and the serpent.
I feel, deep inside and for a moment, the way I continually long to feel and have since childhood: protected, secure, and immersed in pure love. Not long ago, I was watching a sermon by a pastor I admire very much, the Reverend Dr. Donna Allen, who leads the congregation at New Revelation Community Church in Oakland, CA. I am paraphrasing here (follow her on Facebook! Her sermons are posted there each Sunday!), but one Sunday not long ago, she was talking about the way we seek the feeling of safety, security, happiness, and belonging in other people—in relationships of all kinds—and she went on to posit that those precious states, the feeling of true safety, security, happiness, and belonging are what we find in our relationship with G_d.
It sounds really simple and on some level, I know this to be true, but at that moment, I really heard what Pastor Allen was saying, and I understood it in a different way. It is easy for me to point to the relationships in my life that have felt spiritually fulfilling and allowed me to see G_d working in my life. I have felt a spectrum of deep emotion in these connections—some have been uplifting, exciting, and warm; some have challenged me intellectually and emotionally, and have been a source of growth in those areas of my life; some have been disappointing and painful. I know that I have expected some of the relationships of my life to provide me with the complex set of feelings I equate with love: safety, security, happiness and belonging. Others have expected that of me in relationship, too, and that is beautiful, in that it points to trust, intimacy, and hope. We really can do a lot of this for each other in relationship, but we are just people. We mess it up all the time, bless. We try so hard! We do.
The timing of Pastor Allen’s message likely had something to do with my change of heart and mind on the subject. I was deeply grieving some faltering connections and examining my patterns in relationships over a span of many years. Do you know the expression “come to Jesus?” That. I was having a real “come to Jesus” moment. In that painful, vulnerable moment, I wanted more than anything to feel deeply loved, safe, secure, happy, and as if I belonged. When I heard Pastor Allen’s words, I realized that I had been looking at it all wrong, and that there were no 100% safe bets in the game of life for me right then. Still, I was longing to know I would be protected, secure, and immersed in pure love forever. Like, forever-ever.
When the sermon ended, I found my notebook and pen and wrote a request to my Creator to give me (say it with me) safety, security, happiness, and belonging. Feeling bold, I also asked G_d to let me have more fun and recreation (I mean, why not?). I acknowledged that I wanted to feel G_d’s love in that moment, so I wrote that, too: “G_d, let me feel your love.” This last request felt the most bold. I’m accustomed to feeling like I need to show G_d how much I love them and to give that love away in my words and actions. Giving myself permission to make this request has made the experience of love feel radically different to me, and if the idea of making these requests resonates with you, I encourage you to try it, dear friends.
Written by Jane V. Blunschi
Jane is a writer living in Fayetteville, AR.