Thin Air, High Hope

Feeling safe within a friendship has to be one of the most precious, treasured experiences. I am fortunate to have a few friendships that offer this kind of space, friends I can call in my ugliest moments, entrust with my most insecure thoughts, and share things that still haunt me long after others would grow tired of hearing. The way they listen and engage, the grace and acceptance they extend, is like fresh air, allowing me to breathe through whatever has been weighing on my heart. And then, as the conversation turns lighter, even toward laughter, I’m reminded not only that I’m loved, but that I’m enjoyed. I would say I don’t deserve that kind of friendship, but some things are beyond the question of deserving. They are, in their purest form, a gift.

Most of you know I’ve been exploring different aspects of friendship through the lens of Abraham’s relationship with God. When I asked the question, “What makes a good friend?” on Facebook a while back, over half the responses spoke to the importance of emotional safety. People mentioned things like:

• Non-judgmental and trustworthy
• Listens fully without interrupting
• Accepts you as you are, flaws and all
• Makes space for vulnerability without shame
• Lets you be completely transparent and still feel loved
• Believes the best in you, even at your worst
• Brings peace and steadiness, not chaos
• Encourages your worth and silences self-doubt
• Walks with you through hard, uncomfortable moments
• Offers unconditional love and steady presence
• Doesn’t withdraw love when you mess up
• Creates a safe space to be real, messy, and known

Safety is an interesting concept. In Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, it comes right after basic physical necessities like food, water, and shelter, and before love, belonging, esteem, or purpose. Safety is foundational for further development. A child who feels safe in their environment is more likely to explore, to ask questions, to take risks. Emotional safety is essential for growth and maturity. And yet, I don’t think we always approach our relationships, or even ourselves, with that priority. We seek out connection before asking whether the space is safe. And when trust is violated, we often withdraw in hurt or confusion. Many of us live in fear of being truly honest or transparent because we’re not sure we’ll be met with grace.

I believe one of the core beliefs of a healthy Christian faith is that God is safe. But how can that be, when scripture also speaks so often of His power, even His wrath?

I was recently reflecting on a scene from The Chronicles of Narnia, where the children first hear of Aslan. Mr. Beaver says, “Safe?… Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.” That tension between God’s power and His goodness is real. But later, we get another glimpse: Aslan romps through the grass with Lucy and Susan, the girls chasing him, laughing with joy. This safe space, allowing playfulness and intimacy, is only possible because they trust both His strength and His heart.

I see that same dynamic in Abraham’s relationship with God. Abraham grasped the magnitude of God and still ran to meet Him, questioned Him, dined with Him, laughed in His presence, and spoke honestly about his hopes and fears. He didn’t always get it right. He made mistakes. But there’s an openness in their conversations, a depth and comfort that only come when true safety is present.

Do you feel safe with God?

While I mentioned earlier that I’m incredibly fortunate to have a few “safe” friendships, each has fallen short at times, and unfortunately, I’ve fallen short in return. Even Jesus didn’t entrust himself fully to people, because he understood the fickleness of the human heart (John 2:24). But God. God is safe.

Some might argue that He only offers His safety to the faithful, the loyal. But my Bible speaks of a God who does not break bruised reeds or snuff out smoldering wicks (Isaiah 42:3). A God who devises ways to bring the estranged back to Him (2 Samuel 14:14), who longs to gather His children in His arms (Matthew 23:37), who will leave the entire flock to search for the one who is lost (Matthew 18:12), and who runs to the one still a long way off (Luke 15:20). My Bible tells the story of a God who is willing to die for the chance at reconciliation. Yes, He is powerful. But it’s that very strength that makes His safety something we can always count on. He is strong enough to back up His promise of safety.

What would it look like if we fully grasped this?

In the safety of His presence, would we be more willing to ask the hard questions? To make mistakes? To step out on faith when the outcome is uncertain? Would we feel more secure exploring beyond what we already know? Would we take more risks, doing those things that scare us? Would we have more courage to forgive others, worry less about approval, be less easily offended, knowing our own hearts and reputations are safe in God’s hands? Would we be more honest?

Like a child who knows their parent is just behind them, ready to catch them if they fall…Would we run ahead with greater confidence, peace and delight?

Do you receive from God what’s listed in the bullet points above? If not, (and I say this to myself as much as anyone!), it might be worth gently asking: why not? Not as a source of guilt or condemnation, but with curiosity. What experiences or messages, spoken or unspoken, might be shaping how safe, or unsafe, you view God?

Even if you fear that your own failures have put distance between you and God (because let’s admit it, failure is real!), I hope you’ll remember Him as the father on the road with the returning son: “But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him.”

Yes, God is powerful but that power is never separated from His love.

And those two together make Him very, very safe.

“One thing God has spoken, two things I have heard: “Power belongs to you, God, and with you, Lord, is unfailing love” Psalm 62:11-12