Come, Especially In Your Shame

I get tripped up easily when I lower my gaze to settle on myself.  Not only do I miss the extravagant beauty of my Savior, His worth, and the joy which comes from spilling myself out so He can fill me up, my heart darkens.  My heart is no longer worshiping Jesus, but my own miserable self.

I am discouraged by my sin, I reek of selfishness, and I make choices that leave me feeling bloated from gluttony of self.  It’s an altogether miserable life to live, with a heart, mind, and body postured not in humility toward Jesus, but in self-service.   It’s a consuming sickness that only spirals downward until there is intervention.

At the height of these noxious feelings and habits, my weak cries for help to the only One who can deliver me from myself really do break into the inner court where He not only hears me, but has been interceding for me all along (John 17:6-11).

“Christ Jesus is the one who died–more than that, who was raised–who is at the right hand of God,

who indeed is interceding for us.”

(Romans 8:34)

What breaks the locked-knee hardness of heart is the knowledge that He responds.  He is attentive to my cries–however weak or strong–and He is pleased to answer.

My sin, my darkness of heart is not too dark for Him.

“If I say, ‘Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night,’

even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day,

for darkness is as light with you.”

(Psalm 139:11-12)

He’s showing me, as I come to Him in the secret place, that the only way to experience deliverance from myself is through Him.  But something is required of me.  Yes, much is required.  Sometimes the pain is so much I think I might die, as I wrestle to lay my very own self on the altar of Love.  It’s the most painful of sacrifices, to offer myself.  My desires, my ambitions, my selfish love.

It will be burned up, and in it’s place is put a Love that is other-worldly.  A Love that is all-consuming, fierce in determination, humble, beautiful.  But, I often wrestle because I forget (or don’t believe) that what this process yields will really take place.

See, when I feel the need to wrestle, it’s because I’ve lowered my gaze.  I’ve chosen to stop worshiping God for the moment and choose to worship myself.  I set myself and my fleshly lusts on the throne, as if to say to the Lord that He isn’t who He says He is.

I must run to that secret place (which can be in the middle of a crowd or in my prayer closet) and cry out to Him–whether I feel it or not.  Because despite how I feel, I know that He’s worthy of my worship.  He is God.

It’s in that place of crying out, confessing sin and pouring out my heart, that He meets me.  And I’m undone.  My tendency is to avoid Him out of shame, but He beckons me come, especially in that shame.  It’s in that place that He reminds me of Who He is–and begins to strip away moldy layers of self.  He spends time not in recounting each sin I’ve committed, but priming the walls of my heart with Truth about Himself.  His light takes the place of the darkness that was there just a moment before.

And it’s there that my gaze is lifted and new DNA is inscribed.  I am in awe of a God who is glorious and offers that glory to me to enjoy.  Because, as I enjoy His glory, I worship Him.  And as I worship Him, the temptation to sin against Him lessens.  I forget myself. And He is in His rightful place in my heart.

As I spend time purposely adoring and worshiping Him, He, in His tender, compassionate Self, does speak to me.  Gentle words of encouragement:

“I will accomplish what concerns you; my lovingkindness is everlasting; I will not forget the works of my hands (Psalm 138:8).  Your sin is not too much for me. Kelly, take refuge in Me, how blessed you will be if you do!  (Psalm 34:8)  My eyes are toward you, I hear your cries. (Psalm 34:15) Your love, weak as it feels, delights me!”

When I cease to adore, I cease to thrive.  Death begins creeping in and threatens to overcome my soul.  This God, who made Himself Man and has taken up residence in my heart, must have room–all of it.

“The king is not saved by a mighty army; A warrior is not delivered by great strength.  A horse is a false hope for victory; nor does it deliver anyone by its great strength.  Behold, the eye of the Lord is on those who fear Him, on those who hope for His lovingkindness, to deliver their soul from death, and to keep them alive in famine.  Our soul waits for the Lord; He alone is our help and our shield.  For our heart rejoices in Him, because we trust in His holy name.  Let Thy lovingkindness, O Lord, be upon us, according as we have hoped in Thee.”  (Psalm 33:16-22)

Lord, all of my weak attempts to save myself from my sin are empty, done in vain.   In those moments, I act as an abandoned orphan left to fend for myself.  But You always have Your eye on me, ready to help as soon as I call for You. You never intended for me to shake myself free of my sin.

Thank You for never taking your eye off of me, thank You for not abandoning me, but for rescuing me.  Thank You for the deliverance and life that is in You.  It’s not a maybe or “would be nice if,” but reality for those who fear You.  For me, who fears You.

Thank You, that as I willingly put my trust in You, as I seek to wait on You, as I let You help me, defend me, and protect me from lies and attacks from the enemy of my soul, that joy comes.  I rejoice in You, Father, who is Holy and who is wholly trustworthy.  For it is You who gives me faith to put my trust in You and You who imparts endurance to wait on You.

It is You who delivers me from my sin and delights in doing so.