WAVES OF EXPRESSION

In the last post, we explored how our attachment patterns often shape the way we relate to God. We discussed how our earliest experiences of love, comfort, and connection can become the lens through which we interpret God’s character. But attachment styles don’t exist on their own. Underneath every attachment pattern is a story.

A story about love.
A story about safety.
A story about our worth.

Many of these stories were formed long before we had the ability to question them.

The Stories We Learn

As children, we are constantly making meaning of our experiences.

When a caregiver responds consistently, a child may learn:

“I matter.”

“My needs are important.”

“I can trust others.”

But when care is inconsistent, unavailable, or unpredictable, different conclusions may begin to form:

“I need to earn love.”

“My feelings are too much.”

“I can’t rely on others.”

“Something must be wrong with me.”

Children rarely blame caregivers because dependence requires trust. Instead, children often internalize the problem. If a need is not met, the child frequently concludes:
“The problem must be me.” These conclusions are rarely spoken aloud, but they become deeply rooted narratives that influence relationships for years to come.

When the Story Continues into Adulthood

The challenge is that these stories often continue operating long after the original circumstances have passed. We may find ourselves:

• Constantly seeking approval
• Avoiding vulnerability
• Feeling responsible for everyone else’s emotions
• Struggling to receive love
• Believing we must perform to be accepted

Many times, we are reacting not only to the present moment, but to an old story that still feels true. The painful part is that these narratives can become so familiar that we stop recognizing them as stories at all. They simply become “the way things are.”

The Stories We Carry About God

These same narratives often shape our spiritual lives.

If we learned that love had to be earned, we may unconsciously believe God’s love must also be earned.

If we learned that mistakes led to rejection, we may assume God withdraws from us when we fail.

If we learned that our emotions were unwelcome, we may struggle to bring our full selves into prayer.

Without realizing it, we can begin relating to God through the wounds of our past rather than through the reality of who God is. This is one reason spiritual growth can sometimes feel difficult. We are not only learning about God. We are also unlearning the stories that distort our view of Him.

Paying Attention to What Gets Activated

One of the ways we begin identifying these narratives is by paying attention to what activates strong emotional responses. Sometimes a seemingly small event creates a disproportionate reaction:

A delayed text.
A disagreement.
A feeling of exclusion.
A season where God feels silent.

These moments often point us toward deeper stories that are still operating beneath the surface.

The question becomes:

“What does this situation seem to be saying about me?”

Often, the answer reveals an old narrative.

Maybe it says:
“I’m not important.”

“I’m alone.”

“I have to handle everything myself.”

“No one will come for me.”

These are the stories that healing invites us to explore.

God Meets Us in the Story

One of the beautiful things about the Christian faith is that God rarely begins transformation by condemning our wounds. Instead, throughout Scripture, we see God meeting people in their stories.

He meets doubting people.
Fearful people.
Avoidant people.
Anxious people.

Again and again, God’s response is invitation rather than shame. Healing often begins when we allow God into the places we’ve spent years protecting. Not to erase our story. But to help us see it more clearly.

A Gentle Reflection

Consider spending some time journaling with these questions:

• What beliefs do I carry about myself during difficult moments?
• What do I fear most in relationships?
• What do I assume God thinks about me when I struggle?
• Where did those beliefs first begin?

Approach these questions with curiosity rather than judgment. You are not looking for flaws. You are looking for understanding.

Next Week

In the next post, we’ll explore the role of “protectors,” the internal parts of us that try to keep us safe from pain.

We’ll look at why behaviors like doomscrolling, overworking, numbing, people-pleasing, and withdrawal often aren’t the real problem.

They’re often attempts to protect us from wounds we haven’t yet learned how to face.