Coming Into The Father's Love: Where Love First Took Shape
- Rebecca Black
- Feb 1
- 5 min read
Updated: Feb 13
Most of us discover, at some point in our journey, that the way we relate to God is not as simple as we expected it to be. We can hold sincere faith, know the language of belief, and still find ourselves hesitant, guarded, or uncertain when it comes to closeness.
For some, prayer feels familiar but intimacy feels distant.
For others, trust feels complicated.
For many, there is a quiet tension they cannot quite name.
This is rarely a theological problem.
More often, it is relational.
Long before we had language for God, we learned relationship. We learned what closeness felt like. We learned whether it was safe to need, to ask, to rest, or to be seen. Those early experiences did not simply stay in the past. They quietly shaped how we learned to approach love itself.
Because of this, many of us approach God not only with belief, but with memory.
This is why the invitation to come to God can feel very different from one person to another. For some, the language of Father brings comfort and warmth. For others, it brings fear, distance, or resistance. Some feel safest approaching Jesus. Others find the nearness of the Holy Spirit most familiar. These differences do not reflect spiritual maturity or immaturity. They reflect formation.
There is no pressure here to correct any of this.
Only an invitation to notice.
“Be still, and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10)
Stillness creates space for truth to surface gently.
As I have been sitting with the Lord, I have been noticing patterns coming back into view.
We all carry familiar patterns, responses formed in our formative years in seasons where they were once necessary for survival. These patterns helped us cope. They helped us stay safe.
For me, some of these patterns show up as a quiet pull toward control, a tendency to stay busy rather than present, and an instinct to withdraw from my emotions when things feel tender.
I am not afraid to come close in the way I once was. I am no longer overwhelmed by emotion or vulnerability. And yet, as these familiar responses come into view, I am becoming more aware of how they still shape the way I respond when things feel uncertain or exposing. I notice how quickly I move toward managing rather than remaining present.
This awareness is not about going backwards or back-sliding. It is about going deeper. It is about the Lord gently revealing what still needs healing and bringing it to the surface. Not for me to work it out, but to allow Him to step into those places of pain. To allow Him to transform them so they no longer lead my responses when inner turmoil rises.
We know these patterns did not form in isolation. They were shaped in relationship, and so healing takes place in relationship too. As we learn to feel safe allowing the Lord to step into these places, He begins to show us who He is there. He demonstrates His safety, His comfort, and His love in places of our lives that may feel tender, messy, or difficult to look at.
Because these patterns were formed in relationship, they continue to influence how we experience God.
For many, our experience of the Father is unconsciously filtered through our experience of our own father. Where authority felt unsafe, distant, critical, or unpredictable, coming to Father God can feel intimidating or even threatening. Not because God is unsafe, but because love and authority were first encountered somewhere else.
In a similar way, our experience of Jesus is often shaped by our experience of siblings or peers. This can influence how safe closeness feels, how we experience belonging, or whether comparison quietly rises. And our experience of the Holy Spirit is frequently influenced by our relationship with our mother or primary nurturer. Where comfort and attunement were present, His nearness may feel reassuring. Where nurture was inconsistent, overwhelming, or absent, His presence may feel confusing or difficult to trust.
These relational flavours are not something we choose.
They are formed.
That is why one person may speak easily of resting with the Father, while another feels fear rise at the thought of approaching Him. Why some find deep comfort in the Holy Spirit, while others feel more at ease with Jesus. These differences do not mean anyone is wrong or lacking faith. They simply reveal where healing is still unfolding.
As we begin to notice these patterns, it can feel tender. Feelings may rise we would rather avoid. Fear, grief, frustration with ourselves, or confusion can surface quietly. There is no need to push past this. The Lord is not asking us to force closeness or manufacture trust.
As we start to see how we respond relationally in different situations, and where fear arises alongside our instinctive responses to it, we begin to recognise the very areas the Lord is gently drawing our attention to. Not to expose us, but to heal us.
These are the places we are invited to bring before Him.
Not only what happened, but how it still affects us.
Not only the pain, but the fear it stirred.
Not only the story, but the way we learned to carry it.
We are invited to share our hearts with Him fully. Our fear. Our grief. Our frustration with ourselves. Our longing for things to be different. All of it matters to Him. None of it disqualifies us.
It is in this honest sharing that the Lord becomes witness to our pain. And where pain is truly witnessed, exchange becomes possible. Grief can begin to give way to comfort. Heaviness can slowly lift. Not because we force it to, but because He is present with us in it.
“Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” (1 Peter 5:7)
What we are experiencing now is not the end of the story. It is simply where we are right now. And the Lord is faithful to meet us here, not to leave us here.
“He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion.” (Philippians 1:6)
He does not reveal these places to abandon us to them. He reveals them because He intends to heal them.
This journey is not about analysing the past or assigning blame. It is about allowing space for what is already present to be seen, held, and transformed. As these lenses are brought into the light, we are not losing faith. We are being given the opportunity to encounter God more honestly, without pretending we are somewhere we are not.
You do not need to correct what you notice.
You do not need to compare your experience with anyone else’s.
Simply allowing yourself to bring what is real is enough for now.
The Lord is not waiting at the end of the process for you to arrive.
He is present with you here.
And He is not finished yet.
Coming into the Father's Love series
Week 3:
Week 4:
Week 5:
This is exquisitely written, and from a mother’s heart. I’ve been walking this journey for decades, and you sum it up so beautifully. You are a gift to the Body of Christ. Don’t ever drop that pen, it’s from Heaven. Thank you.