Devotional Part 7: Lip Gloss, Loyalty, and the Lunchbox Incident
“Two are better than one… If either of them falls down, one can help the other up.”
—Ecclesiastes 4:9–10 (NIV)
Childhood friendships are rarely small things.
For some children, they are companionship. For others, they are protection. For a child who has already known fear, exclusion, or instability, friendship can feel like oxygen.
Ecclesiastes reminds us that we were created for connection. From the beginning, Scripture acknowledges that falling is part of life. The gift is not perfection, but partnership—someone to help us up. Looking back now, I sometimes wish I had understood more clearly that Jesus was not only my Redeemer and Comforter, but also my Friend—the One who remains steady even when human support wavers.
In early childhood, friendship is not just social; it is formative. The way we are treated by peers begins to shape how we understand belonging. When a child who has already endured trauma finds even one loyal friend, that friendship can feel sacred. It becomes evidence that not everyone is unsafe. Not everyone will leave.
At the same time, when survival has already shaped a child’s inner world, attachment can take on extra weight. Being chosen may feel like safety. Loyalty may feel like rescue. A nervous system that has learned to anticipate rejection will hold tightly to acceptance. For me, that first experience of true peer acceptance created a loyalty bond that felt sacred. I did not yet know how to separate gratitude from over attachment, and in time that confusion would affect how I formed boundaries in other relationships.
And yet, Ecclesiastes does not say two are better because one completes the other. It says two are better because they support one another. True friendship lifts. It does not consume. It steadies. It does not control.
God’s design for connection is not rooted in desperation, but in mutual strength. We are not meant to attach out of fear, but to bond out of shared trust and safety. The friendship that once felt like survival may have been exactly what I needed in that season. It was not a mistake. It was provision.
And over time, God gently matures what once protected us, teaching us how to move from survival into healthier ways of loving and trusting.
A Prayer
Jesus,
Thank You for the friendships that carried me when I felt alone. Thank You for the first time I felt truly accepted by someone my own age. That gift mattered more than I understood.
You know how deeply I longed to belong. You know how sacred that loyalty felt to me. You also see how early wounds shaped the way I attached and held on.
Thank You that my desire for connection was not wrong. It was human. It was how You created me.
Teach me to recognize the difference between gratitude and over-attachment. Help me form relationships rooted in safety, mutual respect, and healthy boundaries. Where loyalty once felt like survival, grow in me a steadier understanding of love.
Thank You for the friend who stood beside me. And thank You that You are the Friend who never leaves, whose presence does not waver and whose love does not confuse.
Continue shaping my understanding of connection—not from fear of losing it, but from confidence in who I am in You.
In Jesus’ name, I pray,
Amen
A Song for Reflection
There is something powerful about being chosen.
As children, we often measure our worth by who includes us, who defends us, and who stays. When acceptance has been rare, it can feel life changing. In third grade, having one loyal friend shifted something inside me. I felt seen. I felt protected. I felt, for the first time, truly accepted.
But human acceptance, even when sincere, can still feel fragile. It can awaken both gratitude and fear—gratitude for being chosen, and fear of losing it.
You Already Like Me
Written by: Zach Bolen and Joel Houston
Performed by: Citizens
“I’m more of myself when I’m with You.
There’s nothing that I could ever do to disappoint or impress”
These words speak to a deeper belonging than childhood friendship alone could provide. The acceptance I felt from a loyal friend was real and meaningful. But Christ’s acceptance is steadier. It does not fluctuate. It does not require performance. It does not disappear when I fall short.
When I understand that I am already liked by Him, I am free to form friendships without clinging, to value loyalty without losing myself, and to rest in an identity that is not earned but given.
As you listen, consider where you may still be striving to secure approval. Then let this truth settle in: you are already known, already accepted, already chosen.