The spirituality of insecurity

"When I sing the hymns of faith in Jesus' love, I am drawn by their intimacy, their allure, their poetry. But in the end, such faith is simply not available to me. I can't do it.  I lack the resources to render my capacity for love and my need to be loved to supernatural Beings. And so I have no choice but to pour these capacities and needs into earthly relationships, fragile and mortal and difficult as they often are."  (Ursula Goodenough, The Sacred Depths of Nature)

I recognize this quandary.  There is that in us which reaches back through time to our mother's breast, even the womb, to a security and succor we have been hard-pressed to find and maintain in our adulthood.  The scriptures, saviors, and guardian angels of our traditions are no longer within reach of our needs for assurance.

I do envy those who say they've never turned to God for that assurance, or they've never needed heaven at all in any form.  If they're being honest they have a rugged sense of individuality I'm not likely to achieve.  But I wonder if they're also not missing out on something.  The constant tug between the draw of religion and the quest for the ever-elusive horizon of knowledge is itself character-forming.  Maybe the stalwart prefer to be rock-solid in their world view.  I prefer the soft crumbling loam of insecurity and growth.