She couldn't have been more than 5 years old, but already she was well-acquainted with shame. Oh, I doubt she could have articulated a concise definition or even used it in a sentence. Yet her hasty sideways glance and involuntary clenching told me more than her elementary tongue ever could.
I had been reading a book in the food court when I noticed this girl out of the corner of my eye. She had just settled down in her chair when the bag of popcorn in her hands was upset with one clumsy gesture. As several kernels took their place on the ground, her eyes darted upward, desperately hoping that her action had escaped her mother's awareness.
The movement was slight and the incident relatively insignificant. But it immediately transported me to another time and place. This time I am the girl. And instead of popcorn, it is scattered feathers that are the source of guilt. I am blissfully immersed in an imaginary store, using my parents' pillow cases as merchandise. As I play, the pillows' free falling feathers seize the opportunity to find a resting place on my dad's pants - the pants that he would put on for church in mere seconds.
Within seconds of my dad's entrance upon the scene, I am fully conscious of his displeasure. His tone is severe and his lips taut as he questions how his pants had acquired feathers.
It is in this moment that I experience the captive-making effects of shame. Everything in my 5 year old frame longs to run and hide. And though I remain rooted in front of my father's towering figure, I retreat internally - hiding all knowledge of my misdeed and refusing to shed any light on the truth. As many times as he asked for the truth, I denied him access to it. Hiding. Deceit. Darkness. Fear. Shame.
It is to this shame-filled and imprisoned heart that God announces this great news:
"In Christ and through faith in Christ we may approach God with freedom and confidence."
No more wrath...it has all been poured out on God's perfect Son, so that we can come close. Amazing grace.
