I lugged a heavy suitcase down the stairs, hearing some unidentifiable thuds along the way. When I looked back to investigate the source of said thuds, I discovered the following: a pair of socks, a shirt, a swimsuit, a bottle of lotion. A trail of breadcrumbs down the steps behind me.
I forgot to zip up the suitcase before I carried it downstairs. No big deal, right?
It was a mistake, a mundane, inconsequential one at that.
But without warning, this thought violently pinballed through my brainâ€”
On another occasion, I was folding laundry in the living room when I accidentally spilled a little wine on the couch. (Yes, I drink wine to make it through all the folding. Donâ€™t judge me. )
There it was againâ€”
Like a demented Sam I Am, this particular lie of shame is annoyingly persistent in my life these days.
You are dumb going down the stairs. You are dumb sitting on chairs. You are dumb here and there. You should feel ashamed everywhere.
As if my mistakes mean my insufficiency.
I feel it heavily as I attempt to finish my book on overcoming shame. Who am I to tackle such a massive topic? I must be dumb, that’s who.
C.S. Lewis said, â€œGod did not die for a man because of some value He perceived in himâ€¦He loved us not because we were lovable but because He is love.â€ (The Weight of Glory)
In the face of Shame-I-Am, I will try to remember this: I belong to the One who loves me, not because I zip up suitcases successfully, or never spill wine, or even write a perfect book.
He loves me because He can’t help but love. It’s His very being.
In Jesus, I will not feel ashamed here or there. I will not feel ashamed anywhere.
I am no longer Shame-I-Am’s.
I am I AM’s.