Meghann Easley
It’s interesting, isn’t it, how Shame tiptoes in. It slides through the crack in an open door and paralyzes you like a snake. It doesn’t need to even whisper, you know it’s there, behind the eyelids, under the shadows, lights on and curtains opened doesn’t frighten it away.
The truth is that Shame doesn’t care about Truth. Shame feeds on misconception and fear - it feeds and grows in the arenas hidden and dark. But Truth, truth is the light shining into the mist. Reflecting light and clarity. But how often can we fear trusting our own inner guidance. Is that Truth, or more of my mental roundabout.
Sigh - there are days the whispers are louder than others. Past years and current fears fighting for attention in the what-should-have-been or if-I-hads. It’s a pointless game that the Enemy wants us all circling “the mouth of Sheol” over.
But what if we choose to say, “no”. To not let the lies entangle our feet? Choose to remember that in order to walk with a crown one must learn to stand tall? Standing tall means nothing but that you have less backaches when you are finished scrubbing those toilets but it also means you know who you are and whose you are. You are loved. You are safe. You are not threatened or in danger. You are not alone.
You are not alone.
Sometimes we need to remember that. On days when we work alone, live in silence alone, have only child sized voices calling to us, we are not alone.
The first book Brad ever gave me was one about a dear soul named “Brother Lawrence”. Brother Lawrence excelled at several things, first he was an excellent potato scrubber and if I remember correctly a master at mending shoes. Both of which were perfect for working in quiet, dark basements. But did he find shame in his position in the bottom of the monastery? No! He delighted in the time he had to “Practice the presence of God”. He poured his thoughts and hearts out in letters, memorialized not because of who he was at the time but because of who he was writing! His conversations were with some of more important people of his day. Thus his penmanship survived to this day.
I was reading about another young man, left for years in a basement prison. He had a gift for interpretation of dreams, but not much wisdom as to whom he shared those with. That left quite a few people angry and Joseph spent years learning wisdom while in another basement. Only to finally jump from basement to King in one swoop - I suppose he had finally leaned his lesson on discretion. This story ends with a young man saving a country and his family and yet he had to learn some important lessons - one of those was not to take Shame with him into the throne room.
Shame is a poor friend and a worse motivator. It alienates and divides, devising a plot to divide one side of the heart from another until all that’s left is pate.
So, instead I decide to visit a mountain. A mountain of Holy Truth. It casts a long shadow but one that comforts and protects, guides and directs. This truth may sting at times but it always points us forward to the next thing. Truth isn’t ever a liar, it isn’t always safe, but it’s always good.