THE GOSPEL AND ATTACHMENT
Before we learn language, before we understand rules or reasons, we learn one thing first: whether we are safe.
Psychology tells us that human beings are wired for attachment. From infancy, the brain forms around presence—around a face that stays, a voice that responds, arms that return us to calm. Secure attachment produces peace, resilience, and trust. Broken attachment produces anxiety, fear, and restless striving. We do not merely want connection; we are formed by it.
The Bible says the same thing in older words.
In the beginning, humanity walked with God. There was no hiding, no fear, no distance. Presence was normal. Trust was effortless. But when sin entered the world, the first emotion named in Scripture is fear: “I was afraid…and I hid myself” (Genesis 3:10). Separation precedes disobedience; hiding comes before judgment. Attachment is broken, and the human soul begins to ache.
From that moment forward, the Bible is the story of displaced attachment. We cling to idols, power, approval, pleasure—anything that promises security but cannot hold us. Even good things become false anchors. “All we like sheep have gone astray” (Isaiah 53:6)—not charging into rebellion, but wandering in search of safety.
The law can identify what is wrong, but it cannot restore closeness. Commands do not create attachment; presence does. What the human heart needs is not better instruction, but reconciliation.
This is why the Gospel is not God shouting from heaven, but God drawing near. “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1:14). The eternal Son enters our fear-filled world and calls us by name. Jesus touches the untouchable. He eats with sinners. He allows children to climb into His arms. Again and again, He communicates the same truth: you are not abandoned.
At the cross, Jesus experiences the deepest rupture of attachment: “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Matthew 27:46). He enters the terror of separation so that we would never have to. The secure bond we lost in Adam is restored in Christ. “Having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ” (Romans 5:1).
The resurrection is the Father’s answer to the Son—and to us. The bond holds. Love remains. Death does not get the final word.
Now the Gospel speaks in the language our nervous systems understand: “I will never leave you nor forsake you” (Hebrews 13:5). “Abide in Me, and I in you” (John 15:4).
Salvation is not merely legal forgiveness; it is secure attachment. We are adopted, not tolerated. Held, not merely helped. “You received the Spirit of adoption by whom we cry out, ‘Abba, Father’” (Romans 8:15).
The Christian life, then, is learning to rest where we once ran. Prayer becomes returning. Obedience becomes trust. Worship becomes staying.
And one day, attachment will be complete: “The tabernacle of God is with men, and He will dwell with them” (Revelation 21:3). No anxiety. No distance. No fear of abandonment.
Until then, the Gospel continues to speak to the deepest human need—not merely to be right, but to be held.
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Father, draw me back into Your presence. Where fear has taught me to hide, teach me to rest. Let my soul find its security in You alone, through Jesus Christ. Amen.
BDD
