Abiding and Trauma Bonding

 

Abide in Me, and I in you.
 As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, unless it abides in the vine, 

neither can you, unless you abide in Me.
“I am the vine; you are the branches.
He who abides in Me, and I in him, bears much fruit; 

for without Me you can do nothing.
John 15:4-5 

        This morning, I noticed something subtle but striking on my grapevine. And as usual, I clicked a photograph to show you.

        A young tendril had reached upward, but instead of wrapping around the trellis or post, it had curled itself around another tendril, one that was slightly higher and seemingly stronger. For a moment, it looked like support. One lifting the other. A kind of companionship.

        I am no vine expert, but even I knew that something was wrong. That’s not how vines grow well.

        Tendrils are meant to cling to what is firm like a trellis or wire, something steady and immovable. When they latch onto each other, they might look like they’re helping, but over time this "clinging" becomes dangerous.

        This is what Google had to say: tendrils wrapping around each other don’t find true support because both are flexible, making the whole vine unstable. They can damage or strangle one another, collapse under their own weight, limit upward growth, and reduce fruitfulness due to poor sunlight exposure.

        So, I did what any wise (or a novice) gardener would do; I gently unwound the lower tendril and redirected it toward the trellis. And in that small, quiet moment, I heard the Spirit whisper into my heart, "This is what abiding looks like.”

        In our hunger for connection, affirmation, or safety, it’s easy to cling to one another. We hold on to the strongest voice near us, the warmest hand, the next comforting opinion. But people, even well-meaning friends, were never meant to be our structure.

        Relationships can begin to pull us sideways, away from the direction of God’s call. And in time, even something beautiful can turn into a burden.

        Abiding in Christ means finding our source, our rest, and our identity in Him alone. Not in our reflection in someone else’s eyes.

        If I’m clinging to others for worth or direction, I can’t truly serve them. I can’t lift others if I’m still entangled. I can’t be rooted in humility if I’m still reaching for validation.

        But when I’m anchored in the Vine, I am free to love without needing to be loved back. I am free to walk into unfamiliar places, not as a guest performing, or a host controlling, but as someone already deeply rooted and already supported.

        Sometimes, the most loving thing we can do both for ourselves and for someone else, is to gently unwind the tendril. To say, “This won’t hold. Let me point you toward what will.”

        This is wisdom, not judgment. This is not control, but the path to restoration. We don’t do this to shame anybody, but to make space to produce fruit that lasts. We do this because we remember that the goal is not disconnection but redirection.

        There’s a difference between helping someone grow and becoming their structure. Paul said, “Imitate me, just as I also imitate Christ.” (1 Cor. 11:1).  Not cling to me but let me point you to Him.

        The healthiest relationships are not where we depend on one another for identity, but where we both look upward together. Not entangled but aligned.

When Clinging Is a Survival Response

        Still, I couldn’t dismiss the beauty of what I saw. The higher tendril, perhaps already anchored elsewhere, had reached back. The lower tendril found direction, if not yet strength. In the same way, God sometimes places people in our lives, mentors, friends, encouragers, people who are slightly ahead of us, already rooted in Him. They cannot hold us up forever. They are not our source. But sometimes they are the graceful bridge God uses to guide us to something firmer, something eternal.

“ But encourage one another daily, as long as it is called “Today,” so that none of you may be hardened by sin’s deceitfulness.” 
Hebrews 3:13

        Vines do not grow straight up on their own. They need a structure. Likewise, our lives need the unshakable framework of God’s Word, His presence, and His promises. There’s a subtle difference between support and dependence. One leads upward; the other entangles. Relationships aren’t meant to bear the full weight of our need for meaning, for identity, or for stability. We can walk alongside, reach for one another, even point each other upward. But we cannot become the vine.

        Clinging to others might give us comfort or temporary direction, but true fruit only comes when we are anchored to Christ and not just inspired by someone who knows Him, but personally grafted in, abiding daily.

“Those who trust in the Lord Are like Mount Zion, which cannot be moved, but abides forever.”
Psalm 125:1

The healthiest relationships are not where we cling to each other for dear life, but where we help each other find the One who truly holds us.

Trauma Bonding

        If you’ve lived through trauma, especially in relationships, clinging may not feel like a choice, but it may feel like survival. This is called trauma bonding. It is when deep emotional ties form with someone who also causes harm. Like two tendrils wrapped tightly together, it can seem like closeness, but over time, it drains life instead of giving it. Jesus does not bind us in fear. He invites us to abide in Him, in safety, truth, and gentle love. Where trauma distorts connection, abiding begins to heal it.

        If you sometimes feel trapped within your own trauma, let me assure you that there is a safe way out.

“He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me.” 
Psalm 18:19

        Let this truth sink in. Jesus is not repelled by your clinging. He understands it. But He gently leads you to a place where your soul can breathe, where love is not tangled with fear, and where strength does not come from survival, but from abiding. Spend a few quiet moments with this verse. Where do you feel entangled right now? What would it look like to rest in the spacious place God is leading you into? Let the words spacious, rescued, and delighted speak healing to your heart. You are not a burden. You are beloved. He is your trellis. He is also the gardener who gently unentangles the tendrils and leads the branches to cling on to the structure.

“I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.” 
John 15:5

        In this statement, Jesus isn’t just offering comfort. He is declaring Himself to be the only true source of growth, direction, and fruitfulness. He is the Vine, not just nourishing, but the very structure that holds everything together. Remaining in Him is not a suggestion but a lifeline.

My lifeline. It can be yours too.