My inbox is full.
A quick glance through the
subject lines will reveal that Old Navy is having a sale, you can fly
from Phoenix to Boston for $188, my kid is missing a math assignment,
aaaand.... oh, the world is full of broken people with
terrible secrets who are longing for absolution and acceptance.
Somehow my inbox has
become the bearer of the world's guilty conscience, a virtual
confessional for people who need to get some pretty heavy junk off
their chest. I'm humbled by these letters; incredibly honored (if
not terribly ill-equipped) to be the recipient of so many sad,
beautiful, personal stories. And I will gladly take on this role, the
catcher of broken hearts and cradler of spilled guts, if it means
giving someone a chance to let go of the shame that's been eating
them alive, or keeping them up at night, or making them stress-eat an
entire pan of fudgy-super-chocolate-chunk-brownies with half a jar of
peanut butter...
The thing that haunts me about my inbox is the sheer volume of people who are aching to know if
they're still worthy of love. There are so many people drowning in
shame because they're certain they'll lose everything if anyone ever
finds out how messed up they are. It saddens me that there are way too many people who
willingly and mistakenly
place their worth in the cruel hands of men, when it is God who
created them and knows their value.
Sometimes people ask me
how I do it, how I lay all my crap out there for the whole world to
see, open to judgement and ridicule. They ask me where I've found the freedom
to be myself no matter who's watching. They wonder how I “get away
with it”, as if I'm breaking some unspoken law of Christian living
that says “Above all, never stop pretending to be perfect.”
My answer is always the
same:
I can be "authentic" or "transparent", or whatever, because I don't give a hot shit what you think of me.
I can be "authentic" or "transparent", or whatever, because I don't give a hot shit what you think of me.
That is to say,
I have a very deep sense of where my value really lies. It just isn't that
big a deal to me if a few judgmental a-holes deem me "broken"
or "unworthy". Think about it - to be found wanting by
other people,
who in reality are every bit as broken and unworthy as I am, is
just... stupid.
I
love the story of Adam and Eve, in Genesis. It always gives me pause
when I get to the part where it says they were 'naked and unashamed'. Mmhmm, bare-assed and unashamed at
the core of our creation. It's not until later that we get all
mortified to see that our junk is showing. It's not until after the
fall of man that we start hiding in the shrubs and fashioning leaves
into underpants. That's where God finds us, shivering in our fig and
ivy blend bloomers, and He asks, “Who told you that
you were naked?”
Seriously. Who
told you to be ashamed?
With
everything that's in me, I want my life to be a fulfillment of the person God Created me to be. I understand that because of my brokenness I don't get to
spend my days waltzing through Eden. But, in the story of Adam
and Eve, I can hear Him whispering my name, saying,
“Baby
Girl, you weren't created to hide in the bushes, you were made to
live in the garden... Be
who you are. I love you that way.”
I
found freedom when I stopped wasting time and energy hiding my junk
behind a layer of superficial shrubbery. I'm confident in my
messiness because I realize that Jesus doesn't bind me to my shame,
He releases me from it...
…. …. ….
It's time to step out from behind the bushes. Who told you to hide your junk, anyway?
