Good morning…
Letting down our guard and sharing our genuine self is a lot easier said than done. In truth, our guard is an important part of us, serving us well until it doesn’t anymore.
We are handmade uniquely in our Creator’s image (Genesis 1:27) and filled with the living breath of God (Genesis 2:7). Freshly formed from our Father’s fingers, we each come into the world “naked and unashamed” (Genesis 2:25). But it does not take long before God’s enemy appears in our sandbox, luring us away from playing with God, tricking us into playing with fire (Genesis 3:1-4).
We see, we want. We want, we grab. We grab, we eat. (Visions of toddlers munching cheerios embedded in old carpet dance in my mortified mind.) We take and we eat whatever our heart desires before we share with others the fruits of our sinful nature (Genesis 3:5-6). The trouble with trouble is it first feels like fun.
Then WHAM our eyes are opened, our flaws are exposed. In shame we fabricate our own flimsy coverings (Genesis 3:7). Perfect smile. Impressive clothes. Little white lie after little white lie.
In the cool of the day, we hear the sound of our divine Daddy strolling through the garden. We scurry behind a bush, covering up our coverings. Our layering process continues, covering upon covering, hiding place after hiding place (Genesis 3:8).
Still seeing our soul, God’s voice somehow finds us, “Where are you?” Our voice trembles back, “I heard You in the garden, and I was afraid because I am imperfect, naked and ashamed” (Genesis 3:9-10).
Out of fear we cover ourselves, we self protect our flaws. Our layers serve us well until they begin to define our death. Eventually, the armor of our defenses becomes too heavy to bear and our true self, made in God’s image and sustained by God’s breath, clamors to grow free. Our shame screams, “No, no! Cover up your ugly nakedness.” Our LORD says, “I accept you just as you are. Please soak naked in My love.”
This spiritual war rages on until we recognize: the person God designed us to be is dying inside, covered over, closed off, hiding in hurt. When stagnation hurts more than transformation, we take the risk.
Your story is my story and our story is God’s.
…Sue…
