Wells of Shame

I wasn’t planning on this time. To be alone. And I certainly wasn’t planning on how the Lord would call me to use it. Or rather, how He was going to use it.

Only in the past couple of years did I begin to uncover some of the truths about my soul wounds. First was understanding that they were in fact wounds. Eating disorders, self-loathing and deprecation just seemed like part of my human condition.  And while it’s true that they are a product of my humanity, I never believed they could be redeemed. I don’t expect they will ever go away. They have so permanently become a part of who I am and how I process the world. 

The vulnerability I experienced in my relationship with Chris sparked the first awakening of hope – that there might be an alternative way of living. Through his persistent ways, he began by showing me that the low and droning yet powerful dialog in the back of my head – the one that shaped and defined the filter through which I looked at the world – could both be seen and named. It wasn’t invisible like I had always thought. But rather it was exposed plain as day in my most vulnerable relationship and could be reached. Touched. Poked and Agitated. And brought to my awareness. And the idea of anyone having access to that sacred place, infuriated me. I was enraged that he could see and identify what was growing in that dark corner of my soul and I exploded in anger and self-defense. Subconsciously, I had so carefully lulled that dragon to sleep, locked him up in a dungeon far away but where I could keep watch and maintain control over him. The thought of waking him or worse, setting him free, seemed life threatening. To churn the peaceful waters and stir up the settled mud would make such a mess in the depths of my soul and seemed like a hopeless venture.

So why unlock these newly discovered wells of darkness? How did anyone, even G-d, think that was a good idea? What did He possibly hope to gain? Surely it was impossible to heal such a permanent cancer growing inside of me. And I began to grow agitated as that wound was poked with more frequency and the waters began to churn. And finally becoming paralyzed with fear I was left with only one alternative to defeat: surrender. Be they limp wristed, half-raised arms, I knew had to try to tackle the idea that there was a possibility for hope and even healing.

But where to begin? How do you process something you are terrified of, that you just recently learned exists? And the Lord has very gently begun to reveal his truth to me, in portions I can handle. Oswald Chambers shares his thought about overcoming despair in the face of our brokenness:

“The well of your incompleteness runs deep,

but make the effort to look away

from yourself

and look toward Him.”

This illustration made me realize that I didn’t have to jump off a cliff to get started in this healing process that feels so onerous. I just had to start by twisting a little deeper and testing my balance. As in yoga, I had to find the place where I could deepen my twist, trust my balance and begin to look away from my reflection in the mirror back over my shoulder.

The mirror I have been looking in my whole life reflects all of the shortcomings of my humanity. And what I have struggled with in this visage is that most of what is looking back at me is actually true. I AM limited in my humanity. I am going to fail people that I deeply love. Over and over again.  Where the brokenness and pain and wounds enter in this experience is around the implications of these truths... If I’m human and going to fail, am I hopeless? Do I just keep trying harder? And in the absence of an even bigger truth, this has always felt so defeating and led me back to the droning lull.

For this I have grown to be utterly disgusted with my humanity, all the while knowing it’s one of the most powerful tools we have to share Christ’s love and truth. My sentiment is so dichotic, I knew there was something broken about the way I was looking at it. 

Our pastor, Derek, recently preached on the “way of weakness” – how it is through Christ’s humility and weakness that we are made strong. He spoke about our natural reactions to weakness; humanism: overcoming and fighting against our weakness, and fatalism: enduring and accepting our weakness. And my entire life, my experience and reaction to my shortcomings and weakness has wavered on that scale.

Grace always seemed like a perfectly normal thing... for other people. I was always taught to put others before myself and since I didn’t hold them to the same standard, that wasn’t particularly hard to do. Extending love and grace and compassion towards others was something I always found the space for in my heart. I have accepted that others are limited by their human condition. In the external world I have learned how to see grace, blessing, power and control in the hands of our Creator. Surrendering to my external circumstances is an area where I have experienced tremendous growth in the past year and I have begun to accept that He reigns over all circumstances and truly has the power to fix, forgive, heal, save… 

... everyone but me. I’m too broken. Walking around with too much shame. Too many wounds. There’s no freeing this dragon from her dungeon. But Derek’s point was so simple yet profound, and brought me to the edge of a new place:

“If we resent our restrictions or weakness that result from our human condition, then we resent our own being.”

I HATE being second. Being sinful. Being created. And realized that I ultimately hate my own being.

Can that be reconciled? Even now it feels impossible. But in a very practical and real way, I was able to see this Easter that is exactly what happened on the cross. Not only were our sinful acts forgiven, but our sinful nature was redeemed. As if Christ were looking down on me from the cross and saying, "Carly, it is done. Not only are you free from your sins, but you are free from the expectation of perfection. You do not have to live any longer with shame or guilt or self-hatred. Your existence has been justified and your weakness is actually my strength.  You only have to invite me into all those cracks so that my greatness can be revealed to the world when you fall short. This is what I mean when I call you mine. Can you find the humility? Can you surrender your whole self?"

The journey seems long and daunting and endless as I think about ALL the places I have been protecting my heart from Him and from myself. I admittedly I am very early in the stages of awareness, let alone actually surrendering these things. But each day when I rise, I get to choose. And so the first step in all of this for me is to begin in stillness and dwell in the Lord’s presence. To remind myself of this truth that counters what I have believed my whole life. And slowly start to find my balance and begin to look away from the mirror over my shoulder and into the face of the Lord.  And choose surrender. 

All for the hope of one day being free.