Returning to the Wounded Places
Lately, I’ve found myself returning to this idea of reparenting, and how it might be a doorway into grace. Reparenting is a term I first encountered in therapeutic language, but the more I have reflected on it, the more I wonder if it has something to say about spiritual formation as well.
Reparenting, in psychological terms, is the process of learning to care for the parts of ourselves that didn’t get what they needed growing up. If love felt inconsistent or conditional, if safety was lacking or affection was only offered when we performed, those experiences can leave a deep mark. And sometimes, without realising it, we carry those same expectations into our spiritual life.
Conditional Love and the G♡d we imagine
I am beginning to notice how hard it has been for me to really believe in a G♡d who loves without conditions. I can say all the right words about grace. I can affirm the theology. But there’s still a part of me that flinches (a younger part of me, perhaps) that believes love has to be earned.
Be good enough.
Be useful.
Don’t mess up.
Somewhere along the line, that became the script. And it’s a script I’ve projected onto G♡d.
So what happens when we begin to let G♡d rewrite that story?
Letting G♡d reparent me
This is where the language of reparenting has started to open something up for me. What if part of following Jesus means allowing G♡d to re-father or re-mother us? Not in a way that erases my childhood or dishonours my loving parents, but in a way that gently tends to the wounded, striving parts of me that still don’t quite know how to receive love.
To be reparented by G♡d, I think, is to let myself experience love that does not require anything of me. Love that is not earned. Love that simply is.
Love that comes first
There are moments in Scripture that speak so clearly of this kind of love – a love that comes before performance.
“But G♡d showed His great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners.” (Romans 5:8)
Not when we had our act together.
Not once we repented properly.
While we were still sinners.
And then there’s that beautiful moment at Jesus’ baptism:
“This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.” (Matthew 3:17)
These words are spoken before Jesus has done any public ministry, before the sermons, the healings, the cross. The Father’s love and pleasure are not the reward for a job well done. They’re the foundation.
What would it mean to hear those words spoken over us? Not as a motivational quote, but as a voice from heaven saying,
“You are loved. You are my child. I delight in you.”
Becoming like Little Children
I wonder if this is part of what Jesus meant when he said we must become like children to enter the kingdom (Matthew 18:3). Not childish, but childlike. Able to receive, trust and willing to be loved.
To me, that feels like sacred work — especially for those of us whose instincts still whisper that love must be earned. Unlearning that pattern doesn’t happen quickly. It takes time to trust that we are loved simply because we are. And sometimes, even receiving that kind of love can feel unfamiliar, even a little uncomfortable. But perhaps that is where grace does its quiet work, not in dramatic breakthroughs, but in the slow softening of our defences.
Reparenting with G♡d doesn’t happen overnight. Sometimes I can only take in love in small doses. Sometimes I resist it. But I’m learning that even the resistance – the hesitation, the struggle – are part of the process. Healing takes time, and that’s okay. G♡d is patient with us, even when we are still learning how to be loved.
Still unlearning, Still becoming
I don’t have a tidy ending for this. It’s something I’m still unlearning, still becoming. But I sense that G♡d is patient with me. And perhaps patient with the little child inside who is still learning how to trust.
If any of this resonates with you, if you too carry stories of conditional love, or if receiving grace still feels awkward or foreign, you’re not alone. Maybe G♡d is inviting us to rest, to receive, to be reparented by love itself.
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