By My God, I Can
One day, as we were checking in and seeing what was new in the lives of our sisters, I was sharing about feeling anxious about a new opportunity.
Right now, I cannot even remember the specifics of it, but what I can remember is the gaping hole of emptiness that seemed to open up in my chest as I began to talk about it.
Maybe I was considering a new job or perhaps the prospect of moving my son and me out of my parents' home, but whatever it was, was producing a storm of treacherous emotions in the sea of me: I knew that I did not have what it took to be able to accomplish the next steps I had to take, and it caused me great pain to come face-to-face with my own insufficiency.
The shame storm raged as I shared, and my chest pulled in on itself. My pulse began to accelerate and my eyes began to swim in their own sea of hot tears as they escaped down my cheeks.
I had walked up to the top of the the summit. Inched my feet toward the edge. Managed to coax myself till teetering on the rim of this terrifying abyss of insecurity. And I was shaking like a leaf.
Ironically enough, as keenly aware as I was of the vacuum in my mind between what I knew I was able to do and what life was requiring of me, this puzzled my friends. Before them, they saw a woman able-bodied, intelligent-minded, determined, strong, and willing to do what it takes to accomplish this next (and still unable-to-be-recalled) challenge.
But what they didn't know was that I had a secret: a secret gaping hole where my ability was to reside, a secret abyss where my courage should have been living, and an impossibly wide, secret chasm where everyone thought "what it takes" dwelt.
As I opened up, the pain kept on coming. You may be wondering what hurt so badly -- and this pain was an emotion called shame. Shame happens when we let someone else own and tell our story. While guilt zeroes in on a thing we did, shame assaults our identity and who we are. It's a lying veil that shrouds our true essence and tries its darnedest to keep us imprisoned. And it does this by making us think that in order to preserve ourselves, we must hide our truth.
Our inadequacy.
Our insufficiency.
Our short-comings.
Our mistakes.
Our misgivings.
Our sins.
Our flat-out mess-ups.
Our lack.
Our fear.
Our emptiness.
Our accidents.
Our intentions.
Our abandonment.
Our imperfections.
Shame tells us a lie that because of any and all of those things, that we are inherently disqualified... disqualified from being lovable, being worthy, being worth it, being good, being able. It tells us that we must be bad at the core and it tells us that we should reject ourselves based on all of it.
Essentially, I was having a shame attack there before my friends. I had previously been so terrified by the brewing storm of emotion within me that I'd refused to interact with it. I decided not to bravely attempt to leap across the chasm, but to try to bury it alive. And in so doing, I effectively handcuffed myself to misery.
But, that day in our little ladies' group, something happened. I began to own my story and shame began to lose its power over me. Telling my truth, as painful as it was for me, was the most healing and liberating thing I could've done. And, how grateful am I for the unconditional love of my dear sisters who received me with such grace and beauty?!!!
Things had begun to shift in me that day. They're still shifting, in fact, and a huge chunk of progress was made when by God's grace, I allowed myself to actually feel my feelings. We get lied to here too: "If I feel the pain, it will then overwhelm/control/own/sink/kill me." But don't believe it!!!
The opposite is true: bury the feelings alive, and they'll kill you; allow them to surface, experience your emotions from a place of love, and then you are walking in freedom!
Over these past few years, I've come to learn that my truth is that on my own, I do not, in fact, have what it takes. And before you get mad at me yelling at your screen, "Yes, Geri, you SO have what it takes!!" hear me out for a moment. On my own, I don't. I've also learned that the fact that I don't is NOT a bad thing!!!
My truth is that in my humanness, I have all of those things in that list: insufficiency, short-comings, imperfections, fear, lack, etc. And my truth is also that I am totally lovable in light of all of it -- not any of that makes me un- or even less-lovable. Through learning about the truth about who I am, I've been able to begin to re-learn my identity.
I'm like an empty keyhole designed by a Master Maker who has lovingly designed me to be unlocked by Him. So, all the places I lack, I fall short, I feel inadequate, unequipped, or insecure are all places where my Master Maker can bring his key of Love and unlock me to be the person I was made to be --- if I invite Him.
No longer do I need to hide my imperfections and no longer can shame own me because I am no longer a slave to fear. Instead, I believe the truth that I am a child of God who perfectly fills in my every gap, crack, fissure, fracture. And since it's not about me anyway, I get to watch this God shine as he works all of this together for my good because I love Him.
Don't misunderstand that life is without trial these days.This "insufficiency shame" just came up in my heart again this week, in fact. I'm just learning who I am, and like a toddler learning to walk, it's clumsy!!! And, the truth still is that I'm human and I'm in a battle. Fear comes knocking. Shame tries to silence and suffocate and strangle me. The difference is that today, when I come to the chasm...when I face the abyss...when I arrive at a wall, I mostly do not turn around and cower away in fear. Instead, I look up. Today, by my God:
I stay.
I fight.
I fail.
I persevere.
I run.
I come back.
I fall.
I get up.
I rise.
I no longer have to fear my insufficiency because I have a God who promises to be strong where I am weak. I love a God whose power is made perfect in my weakness (2 Corinth 12:9-11). I can trust that I do have what it takes to surmount the challenges in my life -- and not by my strength but by my God, I can leap over a wall (Psalm 18:29).
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