Salvation Story not Shame Story

I’ve been going through a stressful time. I’m in limbo land, which is my very least favorite place to be. I’d rather know either way about something. I let it affect my health. I clearly have not been trusting God as I should. Instead of drawing close to God once I recognized this, I went further the other way and went to my place of escape – books and eating. Why would I do that? After a couple weeks of this, today, I got fed up. Or maybe God just got on his mega phone and said, “Hello!” Either way, I decided to finally investigate why I do this. Why I hide from God when I get to a certain stress level.

One reason I discovered was I turned God into one more thing I have to do in a day to feel as though I’ve done enough – to feel as though I’m good enough. God is not a thing to cross off my to do list. God is not that monthly phone call I make to a relative that I don’t want to call, but know I must so I will be considered a good daughter, niece, or grandchild. God is in me. His throne room is a place of refuge that is only a thought or a thought of a thought away. When I think of God in us, the word tesseract comes to mind. I found this image online. I believe this is a good image of God in us and us in God. Tesseract image

Another reason that came to mind was there was something I was placing between myself and God. I asked what it was and the word shame come up once again. I asked myself what was my first shameful thought – something I had control over. A thought came to mind. I asked God to forgive me for what I did. I then had this picture of the deed going up in flames. I felt I was suppose to write down what I did and burn it. I did a poor job of burning it as I dropped it into a wet sink before it really burned, but I got the picture. I saw the ash. I watched the water wash over the ash. I watched the ash disintegrate before it even got to the drain.

The shame does not stand in the way of God and I. It no longer exists. I am clean. When and if the memory comes back, it is seen through the eyes of one who is forgiven. Like I did something wrong and was going to prison, only to have the judge set me free with the deed completely expunged from my record because someone else paid the price for me. It is something I can look back on and say, “Thank you God for taking the punishment on yourself and completely wiping the stain off me.” It is a memory of relief and thanksgiving.

My past is my salvation story not my shame story.

Forever Reign by Austin Stone


A friend said…

I friend of mine said, based on what we had been discussing, it sounded as if I hadn’t let go of my past or at least come to accept it.

I’ve been thinking about that and I realize she is right. I think most folks would understand why. My mother left me when I was 2 ish and then again when I was 4. I have two memories of my mother between the ages of 2 and 4. One was when I was on the floor of the laundry room and she was sorting laundry. The other was when I was at my grandfather’s house and she was visiting. She sent my older siblings out of the room and sang me a lullaby. I did see my mother after that every other weekend and then later lived with her for a few years. My mother never did anything to me per se, i.e. strike me, ground me, or really discipline me in any effective way. I guess that’s just it. She didn’t behave as a mother. I put up a wall for as long as I can remember. Something wasn’t right. The bond just wasn’t there. I have since tried and I know she has tried to repair that and we’ve made some improvement.

As an adult I can see what led to her decisions. As bad as my childhood was, her’s was worse. The fact that she is alive now is a true testament of her survivor instincts. Something I have definitely inherited. I can say that I love her and she loves me without hesitation.

More to come, however God has me write it. I put this picture in just because it’s beautiful.