Attachment & Spirituality
Drawing some parallels between parent-child relationships and the ways we relate to God.
I was having a conversation yesterday in which I was asked what the general attitude in churches toward mental health looks like. That’s a huge and multi-faceted topic, but it did bring me back to another side of this attachment science model that I’ve been reading, thinking about and discussing a lot over the last few years. If you’re not really familiar with attachment theory and different attachment styles, hopefully my newsletter a couple of weeks back will give some helpful context.
In Christianity, the imagery of God being like a parental figure is really significant. Jesus particularly referred to God as his ‘father’ and encouraged people to relate to the divine in this intimate relational way. In evangelical traditions the language of having “a personal relationship with God” is used a lot. With this comparison made between the parent-child dynamic and the way God relates to humanity, it makes sense to think about how attachment science might be relevant to Christian spirituality.1
Let’s look again at how a child benefits from having a secure attachment with a caregiver. When we have that deep relational security, it provides us with a sense of self-worth and identity. We feel confident that we are unconditionally loved for who we are, and we have a safe place to be completely vulnerable, knowing we’ll be given care and comfort when we need it. Secure attachment helps us to assume that, like us, other people are inherently good. It gives us the confidence to face the challenging aspects of life independently, knowing that we can always return to our caregiver for support as needed.
Reading through that, if this kind of secure attachment is something people can gain through a connection with God, surely this is the very best that Christian spirituality might be able to offer. That would be worthy of being called ‘good news’.2
However, this isn’t the way many of us have experienced our spirituality. It sounds like how we might describe our faith to others, and perhaps we have experienced something like it at times. But for a lot of people who would identify themselves as having “a relationship with God” things are bit more complex.3
So, we know that childhood attachment is formed through a caregiver's attunement and care towards their child. And that this is experienced through the caregiver's physical closeness and responsiveness, and observable things like facial expressions, body language, words, and their tone of voice.
But how do we experience an invisible God? For the most part, we experience God through the way we’re treated by other people who represent God - our church leaders and those in our faith communities. We might get a sense of God’s closeness and posture towards us during prayer and singing worship songs. And, within most Christian traditions, all these experiences flow from what we are taught about God. Which depends hugely on how our churches interpret, understand, expound on, and put into practice what is in the Bible.
I find it fascinating to compare the attachment strategies we use in our human relationships (with both our parents/caregivers as children and other close relationships as adults) with the ways many of us approach our connection with God, either consistently or at certain times in our lives. And because these ideas didn't arise out of nowhere, I also want to prompt us to think about some teachings that many of us who have spent time in evangelical spaces are familiar with. Specifically, teachings that contribute to the relational insecurities that some people experience in their connection with God.4
Anxious spirituality
Those of us who have spent time in Christian spaces have been given a picture of what it looks like to “walk with God.” The emphasis varies from one church type to another, but it might include having regular personal prayer times, living out values in the community, singing passionately during worship times or volunteering for church programs. Sure, all of these things are probably really good, positive things to do. And when we’re devoting our time and our thoughts5 to living out our faith in these ways, we might really get that sense of God’s closeness and our own belovedness.
But when there’s a sense that we need to keep doing these things to keep that closeness with God, it can be a source of underlying anxiety. There can be this fear that if we don’t keep up the effort and constantly keep tabs on how we’re doing, we might backslide, drift away, or lose our faith.6
In sharing my own story earlier, I’ve described that sense that I needed to constantly strive to live in a way that pleased God. There have been many times I've worried that God just might be perpetually disappointed in me. The idea of just chilling and not taking faith so seriously is something I wasn’t able to imagine through most of my life.
But the belief that it’s up to us to keep God close or risk falling out of that relationship simply doesn’t ever allow for the kind of peace and rest that would come with a secure connection.
Avoidant spirituality
In that early parent-child relationship, perhaps reinforced in other adult relationships, some of us have learned that uncomfortable emotions are not welcome, and that these need to be suppressed or managed on our own in order to maintain those close connections.
A lot of people also see emotions like fear, anger or sadness as not being part of a life of faith. If the fruits of the spirit are love, joy and peace, surely God wouldn’t want us dwelling on anything else, right?7
For those of us who have become well-practiced at shutting down our feelings, even the concept of God as an intimate parental figure may feel uncomfortable. It may be more comforting to rely on our knowledge and understanding of theology for confidence in our connection with God. If we are striving to find certainty about God's closeness through theological competence, then we probably also don’t see any need to seek emotional comfort through spirituality.
But just because we lock away those feelings, it doesn't mean they're not there. Emotions serve a purpose in our lives. They help us identify our needs and foster empathetic connections with others. Even if we struggle to be vulnerable in our other relationships, teachings that reinforce the idea that an all-knowing God is also turned away by those parts of ourselves only make it harder for us to explore and embrace our own inner world with compassion. This approach hinders our personal growth and prevents us from fully flourishing.
Disorganised/fearful spirituality
Some children grow up feeling like their parents don’t really like them, and like there must be something inherently unlovable about themselves.8 We know that even children who have been treated really awfully by their parents, who are terribly afraid of their parents, often still crave that closeness to them. So the strategy they learn to try and keep that connection is to turn the blame for the way they’ve been treated inward, and to believe it is somehow their own fault.
This approach to connection sounds uncomfortably similar to the way some of us relate to God. How does God see us? Do we believe that we are sinners and unworthy of God's love, and that we can only be in God's presence because Jesus took the punishment we deserved? That God just has some kind of divine obligation to tolerate us?
An emphasis on God’s wrath and our own sinfulness can’t go hand in hand with relational security. There are many religious practices that might encourage us to focus on how unworthy we are if we want to come to God. In doing so, the very act act of seeking closeness causes inner pain, and spirituality is intertwined with fear and shame. We know this dynamic in a parent-child relationship is hugely harmful to a child’s wellbeing, so is there any place for this in healthy spirituality?9
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Interestingly, research has shown that people who grew up in the church are more likely to relate to God using the same attachment strategy they used to keep their parents close.10 Perhaps it’s inevitable that when we tell kids God is a “heavenly father” the main point of reference is their own parents. I think of when my child was younger and we would pray before bed, I once asked them what they thought God might want to say to them. They responded something like, "Probably that I need to tidy my room." Of course, I rushed into trying to explain that God wasn’t actually as petty and easily irritable as their earthly parents, but it was certainly revealing.11
On the other hand, the research suggests that those who converted to Christianity later in life are less likely to have this direct correlation. For them, faith may even be the place where they found the secure parental-type relationship they didn’t have earlier.
It seems that we can all be in the same church environment and hearing the same teachings, but they can open up relational insecurities in some of us in a way that they might not for everyone.
So what now? What do we do when we read a passage of scripture that seems to increase our anxiety or cause us to shut down parts of ourselves, or that fills us with shame? What do we do when science shows that this can actually bring harm instead of healing?
How you proceed is really up to you. Maybe Christianity isn’t somewhere you can see ever being a place of secure connection, and honestly, fair call. Let it go if you need or want to. There is so much possibility for relational security and flourishing outside this complicated concept of a divine parent-figure.
But for those of us who are still exploring this space, one thing we can do is to approach our theology with curiosity. Let's talk with one another about the ways we've been taught to see or relate to God, and whether or not it helps or hinders our wellbeing. From there, the way I choose to approach a teaching that isn't contributing towards human flourishing is to basically conclude that it doesn’t line up with my understanding of the redemptive meta-narrative of the Bible. I really don’t care what others’ theological arguments might be, I’m going to be looking for another way to understand the scripture that is more conducive to wellbeing.
Quite apart from this biblical head-knowledge aspect, there are also ways to foster a healthier connection with God through our experiences.
One way is by being part of faith communities that show genuine compassion and care. Surely being in communities that don’t leave us feeling rubbish about ourselves is a good start toward a healthier sense of how God relates to us.
Personal spiritual practices can also give us secure experiences where we can be ourselves. It can be beneficial to connect physically comforting or enjoyable experiences with our spirituality. For example, we can think of God's comforting, nurturing care while doing things that have a calming effect on our nervous system, like taking a warm shower, cuddling a pet, or walking in the garden. Perhaps these might be safe times to start to reflect on some of the difficult, vulnerable situations or uncomfortable feelings we might be avoiding.
Or we can associate God’s closeness with doing the things we really love, whatever that might look like for each of us. Just like we delight in seeing a child having fun, we can imagine God delighting in our enjoyment.
It's important to remember that we don't need to do any of these things for God to be close to us. These practices are simply reminders that God is always near, loving us, and finding delight in us. By embracing this understanding and allowing ourselves to relax into it, we open ourselves up to experiencing the safety, positive self-image, hope, and trust that a secure parental figure provides. Maybe, hopefully, we can find solace in the comforting presence of God, knowing that we are cherished and valued, just as we are.
This NZ Geographic piece on religion in New Zealand gave this really helpful distinction between religion and spirituality that I keep coming back to. In this case, we’re talking more about that personal inner experience of spirituality, while acknowledging in Christianity the communal elements inform that experience.
“Religion has always had two faces, inward and outward, private and public. The private, personal face is encompassed by the word “spirituality”, the individual’s experience of the sacred, mystical or divine (whichever word a person prefers to use). When the public, communal expression of that inner experience is structured around a set of shared beliefs, moral values, rituals of worship and acts of community service, that is religion. You can be spiritual without being religious—one in five New Zealanders say they are in this category—and religious without being especially spiritual, but most religious teaching encourages both.”
We talk about Christianity as being “good news” a lot within religious spaces, but I’m not so sure we can make those sweeping statements about the entire religion. It still feels worth seeking and naming the parts that have the potential to be good, hopeful, healing and transformative.
Over a few years of working as a tertiary chaplain, it stood out to me that even people who currently identified with Christianity rarely sought comfort or support from a religious figure in times of distress. Most people seemed more likely to avoid engaging with anything religious until they were coping well and feeling ok about themselves. It certainly got me thinking a lot about why that might be.
I need to credit therapist and writer Krispin Mayfield for a lot of the insight into this topic, and the beautifully understanding and compassionate way he explores attachment and Christian spirituality in his book Attached to God. If you’re keen to listen in on some great discussions on this topic, he also had a podcast from a few years back called Attached to the Invisible.
It’s worth reflecting on the idea that God not only observes our actions but also knows our thoughts. When considering the strategies we might employ to maintain a close relationship with God as an attachment figure, how much bigger is the impact when it encompasses even our most private thoughts?
Are these concepts familiar to you, and something you hear talked about in churches? I’m interested to know of specific teachings, phrases, or even worship song lyrics you notice that reinforce this anxiety.
Have you come across teachings suggesting that if you have enough faith in God, feelings like fear, anger or sadness will disappear? The phrase “spiritual bypassing” is helpful for describing the way people often use spirituality concepts to minimise uncomfortable feelings and experiences.
Disorganised or fearful attachment in children is usually associated with abuse or neglect from the caregiver.
I’m really curious to know how this stuff hits for those of you who are committed to church and faith, especially knowing that in some traditions we are taught that seeing ourselves as inherently bad is a crucial part of Christian doctrine.
See the research work of sociologist Blake Victor Kent, or his podcast conversation on this topic on Attached to the Invisible.
Please tell me I’m not the only parent who has these moments of realising what my kids are actually learning about God looks quite different to what I’ve been trying to teach them?!
Very insightful! Thank you. I posted on Notes recently about the film "Women Talking" about a remote Mennonite colony (fictional) where the women have been horribly attacked and raped by their men. As they decide whether to stay or leave, on of their primary concerns is how to continue in their relationship to God.