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When Trust Feels Unsafe

Updated: Nov 8

“You received the Spirit of adoption, by whom we cry, ‘Abba, Father!’” (Romans 8:15)
“You received the Spirit of adoption, by whom we cry, ‘Abba, Father!’” (Romans 8:15)

In the last post I pointed to trust in God, or filial trust, as a practice related to well-being in the Christian life. Filial trust is a concept woven throughout the Gospel, but often without directly being named. It makes an appearance in the Gospels of Mark and Luke as Jesus states "whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it."


Shall not enter it. That's a pretty firm statement.


How does a child receive God, or relate to God? With filial trust. It is with the confidence of a beloved child in the goodness of their Father. Its earthly parallel is the secure attachment of a well-cared-for toddler. They do not worry because their faith in their caregiver is strong. Meals appear. Bed is cozy. Tears are met with compassion. It is the heart of Christian faith: not only believing in the existence of God, but believing in the goodness of God, God's providence, and God's care through our difficulties. Saints like Thérèse of Lisieux show us this childlike openness, surrendering every fear into God’s care.


For for many, especially those carrying wounds from trauma, this kind of trust does not come easily.


St. Thérèse...or Tyler Durden?


I found utter clarity in what was going wrong with my faith in the 1999 classic film Fight Club. The antagonist Tyler Durden, played by Brad Pitt, was breaking down the hero. He pushes the unnamed protagonist:


"Our fathers were our models for God. If our fathers bailed, what does that tell you about God? Listen to me! You have to consider the possibility that God does not like you. He never wanted you. In all probability, he hates you."


After so many disappointments in authority figures across my life, that spoke straight to my belief about who God was. And to who I was to God. Perhaps I was fortunate because I had these small touchstone moments with my dad and mom where through my chaos I could see that they loved me. Because for some reason there was still a sliver of belief that God loved me. I just couldn't hand myself over in trust, and I needed to just go it alone and take care of myself.


The Wounds of Trauma and Neglect


The call to “trust like a child” can stir confusion or even pain when childhood itself was marked by fear, betrayal, or neglect. The nervous system learns to stay alert and to jump into high alert when the unpredictable happens. In such a state the very idea of “letting go” can feel threatening rather than peaceful. Control, for so many, is what creates a sense of safety.


This struggle does not mean a person lacks faith. It means the human mind and heart is doing what it learned to survive. God understands this. He is not surprised by our guardedness, nor disappointed by our need to move slowly. When we bring our fear of trust into prayer, and when we can simply say, “Lord, I want to trust You, but I’m afraid,” that honesty itself becomes an act of trust.


Healing: Moving Towards Filial Trust in God


In healing, God gently teaches the heart and mind what safety feels like again. Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) offers a parallel insight: that growth begins when we stop fighting our feelings and allow ourselves to be present, even in discomfort, while choosing to live by our deepest values. For Christians, that means continuing to turn toward the Father, even when our emotions lag behind.


Because filial trust is not a feeling. Nor is it a single moment of surrender, but a relationship that matures with time. God does not ask for perfect confidence. He only asks for the willingness to keep returning to Him. This truth of the Father's love and the nature of humanity is built into our faith, down into the core of our sacramental life. Return to Him. Seek reconciliation and repair the relationship. Return to Him. Receive the Eucharist and be reunited. As we do, He shows us that His love is steady enough to hold both our faith and our fear.

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