My nine-year-old son Alex and I have a pact to make friends with just about every service provider we meet. We visit the same places frequently, so we see the same clerks, servers, cashiers, and lifeguards on a regular basis. We learn about their families, their ailments, and their future plans. Most of them are happy to talk. I think it breaks up their day when it’s not just business as usual. But not every service provider is naturally gregarious. Every now and again, we encounter a more stoic individual. I can relate to them because I’m a pretty serious person by nature. So, when we do find someone who is harder to get to know, Alex and I pace ourselves, not overwhelming them, but gradually getting to know them. 

One of our friends at a gas station was an extremely hard nut to crack. I didn’t think he liked us at all, but we kept trying. Then one day, when I went into the gas station by myself, he asked, “where’s your sidekick?” I knew then that we’d crossed the bridge to becoming friends and that has been true ever since. Another woman started work at a drive-thru I visit for my morning soda fix. She didn’t seem interested in speaking beyond the exchange necessary to complete the transaction. I felt sure that I would wear her down after a while, but one morning, I was in a bad mood and felt I just couldn’t expend the energy to be overly friendly. That was when she surprised me. She handed me the drink and asked in a cheery tone, “see you tomorrow?” She’d noticed that I wasn’t my normal self and made an effort to pull me out of my funk. It worked because I felt seen and comforted by her words. We were on our way to becoming friendly. 

In the New Testament, Jesus used the imagery of a mustard seed a couple of times. The most familiar is when he said if we “have faith as small as a mustard seed,” we can move mountains. (Matt. 17:20-21). But there is another instance when Jesus said, “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his field. Though it is the smallest of all seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds come and perch in its branches.” (Matt. 13:31-32).

Faith strong enough to move a mountain is a hard concept to get my head around. But the kingdom of heaven being like a mustard seed that turns into a shrub big enough to host aa flock of birds makes more sense to me. We can all plant little seeds of kindness every day, everywhere we go. We may not know whether our small gestures will flourish into something more or not, but our efforts are still important. It may take time for the seeds we plant to show any growth, but if we don’t try to reach out to others, it’s possible that no one will. Some people may go days without seeing a smile directed at them, hearing a nice word, or feeling as though another person cares about them. 

As we go about our daily lives, let us spread compassion in small ways. Even if we only interact with others for a moment, God can use our words and deeds to remind them that God loves them and that they can rest in God’s comfort just like the birds who perch in the tree sprung forth from the tiny mustard seed.

“What does that mean?” My kids have asked me that question numerous times over the years. Usually, the question revolves around some reference to my childhood. Like, “why do you say you’re going to tape a show instead of record it?” I had to explain that back in the days of VCRs, the cassettes actually had tape inside them. Or when I fell back on my Arkansas upbringing and said, “cheese dip.” With their Texan sensibilities and looks of dismay, they asked “why did you call queso cheese dip?” And in response to me asking them, “whatcha talkin’ ‘bout Willis?” when I didn’t understand what they were telling me, they asked what in the world I meant. They were unfamiliar with 1980’s sitcom “Diff’rent Strokes” and Arnold’s catchphrase to his brother Willis. 

My daughter Riley was at counselor training at the camp she’s attended since she was 8 years old. While she was familiar with the camp lingo, she noticed that the newly hired counselors who hadn’t grown up there didn’t understand the phrases. She told me about a situation in which one of the upper-level counselors used a lot of camp lingo in one sentence, and a new counselor said, “I have no idea what you just said.” 

Sometimes we use jargon out of habit or nostalgia. Sometimes we develop a shorthand from immersion in a profession or world that requires or promotes the use of certain terms or acronyms. But sometimes, when we use a particular vernacular, we end up excluding people, whether inadvertently or purposefully. 

Even church communities fall into the use of “Christianese,” which may feel particularly cliquish to those who have not grown up in church settings. This problem is not new. In the days of the early Christian church, an angel of the Lord led the disciple Philip to approach an Ethiopian man who served as an important official for the queen of Ethiopia as he traveled from Jerusalem.  “Philip ran up to the chariot and heard the man reading Isaiah the prophet. ‘Do you understand what you are reading?’ Philip asked. ‘How can I,’ he said, ‘unless someone explains it to me?’ So he invited Philip to come up and sit with him.” (Acts 8:30-31). Their discussion led to the Ethiopian man’s baptism. When we use specialized terms or refer to the past or shared stories, whether in church or elsewhere, we must consider others who may not understand and therefore feel left out. We would do well to include others in the conversation and offer to explain. 

But blessed be the ones who ask the questions. Who are willing to be vulnerable and admit they don’t understand; who risk being ridiculed for admitting they need clarification; who don’t take things for granted or at face value; who challenge the status quo; who demand that people explain their words. 

We can create open environments that encourage people to ask questions. Those questions could lead to new understandings and amazing results.  Let us try to explain ourselves when we fall into the trap of repeatedly using lingo and also celebrate those who ask, “what does that mean?” 

I cringed when I saw the “Dead End” sign while my nine-year old son Alex and I were driving to a get-together. When Alex spotted the sign, he said, “what does THAT mean?” I explained that the street was like the cul de sac we live on, but these days the signs usually say, “No Outlet.” We agreed that “dead end” sounded ominous and negative. Both terms described the same thing but the images and feelings they conjured were completely different. 

Alex had taught me a lesson about labeling the week before. He explained to his siblings that he’d graduated from the dyslexia program at school. For two years, he had worked with a  dyslexia teacher for 45 minutes every day with remarkable results. He told them he wouldn’t be pulled out of class anymore, but said, “I’ll still get the perks.” Alex referred to the accommodations that he receives as part of his individual education plan, like getting extra time on a test if he needs it. Some people might take a negative view of his dyslexia, but Alex knows that his hard work paid off and he benefits from the “perks” that help him.  

Language can make a difference. Social scientist Brene Brown said, “we have compelling research that shows that language does more than just communicate emotion, it can actually shape what we’re feeling.” (Atlas of the Heart). In other words, the way we talk about how we feel may help dictate what we experience, not merely describe what we experience. And that goes for the way we talk about ourselves too. If we call ourselves negative names – loser, failure, lazy, stupid – we will believe that those names accurately define us. But God doesn’t see us that way.

In the Bible, God changed the names of several people. In Genesis, we see two examples. Abram and his wife Sarai were old and childless. But in an encounter with God, “Abram fell facedown, and God said to him, ‘As for me, this is my covenant with you: You will be the father of many nations. No longer will you be called Abram; your name will be Abraham, for I have made you a father of many nations.’” (Genesis 17:3-5). God wanted Abraham to believe even though the promise seemed impossible. Abraham didn’t always follow God’s directions and ended up in some difficult circumstances, but God fulfilled his covenant. 

On another occasion, Jacob was on his way to meet his brother Esau whom he’d cheated years earlier. The night before the meeting, Jacob felt anxious and went off by himself until a “man” appeared and wrestled with him. When the man demanded Jacob let go, Jacob demanded a blessing. Jacob ended up with a hip injury and a different name. ^“Then the man said, ‘Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, because you have struggled with God and with humans and have overcome.’” (Genesis 32:28). Israel would need the reminder that he was an overcomer throughout the ups and downs of his life. 

In the New Testament, Jesus’ disciple Simon said that he believed Jesus was the Messiah when Jesus asked who he thought Jesus was. “Jesus replied, ‘Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by flesh and blood, but by my Father in heaven. And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it.’” (Matt. 16:17-18). Even though Peter would eventually deny Jesus three times on the night of Jesus’ arrest, Jesus continued to make Peter the foundation of God’s church.

God didn’t change who these men were but simply relabeled them. They still made plenty of mistakes afterward, but God gave them names that they could live into. Their new monikers were reminders of how God saw them and what God wanted for them.

God calls us his beloved children. When we resort to degrading orr destructive labels, we deny who God says we are and hurt ourselves in the process. God aspires for us to believe in his love and in ourselves. Let us choose labels and language that build people up. We are God’s people, made in God’s image, and God proclaims that we are “very good.” (Genesis 1:26-31).

When we moved to Frisco, Texas in the fall of 2006, our daughter Riley was almost three years old, and our son Jed was nine months. Our sons Clay and Alex hadn’t been born yet. I was a bit heartbroken when we left St. Louis despite our great opportunities in DFW. The people at First Presbyterian of St. Louis nurtured and cared for us as a young married couple. They’d nicknamed my pregnant belly “Smiley” even before they knew we intended to name her Riley. She was baptized there, attended Session meetings as a tiny infant with Ben and I, and yelled out “DaDa” when Ben assisted with the liturgy during worship. 

So, when we moved to Frisco, we started attending Faithbridge Presbyterian immediately. We needed to become a part of a new community. We’d been at Faithbridge for only a few months when the fire alarm sounded loudly in the middle of Sunday morning worship. One of the nursery teachers ran into the sanctuary to assure the congregation that there was no emergency. A child had pulled the fire alarm. When we went back to pick up our children after service, we said, “it wasn’t one of ours that pulled the alarm, was it?” The nursery caregiver informed us that actually it was our kid. Riley had always been tall, and the fire alarm was low on the wall, so she’d given it a try. And that was how we made ourselves at home with our new church family. A family that has embraced and loved us for over fifteen years now. This Sunday, Faithbridge will honor the high school seniors, and this year Riley will be included. In a beautiful tradition, the quilters from our congregation will present each senior with a hand-made quilt as a symbol of support and love. But before they do, I want to express my gratitude for our church.

The people of Faithbridge who’ve taught my kids in Sunday School, on Wednesday nights, at VBS, and on various other occasions explained the Bible stories certainly, but they also poured their compassion, kindness, and creativity into my children. My kids have never doubted that they belong at our church because they’ve always been accepted. They’ve learned about social justice from the pulpit, the classes, and how our church serves others. They know it’s good and appropriate to question, and even challenge, notions about spirituality and religion. They know their voices matter. Over the years, numerous church members have come to Riley’s dance recitals. They didn’t have to, but they did it to show their support for her. My kids experience God’s love from the way the people in this church embrace them, figuratively and literally.   

But most importantly, my kids have learned what it means to be in a caring church community. They know that the people in this church will always be in their corner and always have their backs. The church will miss Riley when she’s at college, help support us as we adjust to life with her away at school, and gladly welcome her when she returns home. The people of this church have demonstrated what it means to be the body of Christ in ways too numerous to count. 

I pray that my children hold onto the feelings that come from being fully involved in a church community and hope they find the same type of church in their adulthood. We’ve been blessed to find two churches who loved our family well and for that I will be eternally grateful. The people of Faithbridge will celebrate my daughter this Sunday, and I celebrate them for being the epitome of the loving church that God calls us to be. 

When I was a teenager and my mom entered her 40s, we both experienced changes in our vision. I could no longer read the board in school without straining or asking a friend, and mom couldn’t read words close up. Before I finally got glasses and mom purchased readers, we had an interesting and somewhat comical time trying to share a hymnal at church. We would laugh as she held the book out as far as her arms would reach to see the lyrics, and I tried to pull her arm back toward us so that I could read them. 

In the Christian Ethics class that I’m currently taking, we’ve learned about liberation and social justice ethics. As such, I’ve been thinking about how we view the world. My mom and I couldn’t see the same thing from the same perspective because of our physical limitations. But many times, our viewpoints come from the way we approach situations. Some people see the big picture. They think about how an organization can be its best or make progress. The organizations can vary in type and form, from our families and workplaces to our churches and communities. The high concept planners use their imaginations and experience to cast a vision for the how the group can improve and thrive in the present and the future.

Other folks focus on the details. They’re on the ground, in the trenches, dealing with the daily grind. They know how the system works in reality versus theory. They may not focus on developing a long-term, all-encompassing vision for the entire organization. Instead, they are determined to put an effective plan into action. 

Both ways of looking at things have value and are necessary to the successful operation of any organization. And both are essential when examining and challenging the status quo. But so often, we don’t take the time or make the effort to take into consideration the viewpoint that differs from ours. We need those who have the foresight to see all the group can be, and we need to listen to the people doing the work to find out if the vision can be accomplished in ways that are productive and authentically fulfill the mission of the organization. Especially in our churches and in our organizations whose goals are to help others, we must have vision, but we must be attentive to those we intend to help – what they say they need and how they need it. 

God cares about the big picture and the daily minutia. When we are searching for purpose for ourselves or our groups, we can pray for God’s guidance. When we are trying to implement good practices, we can invite God into the process. We can also accept God’s support through trusted friends and advisors. The Psalmist said, “I lift up my eyes to the mountains – where does my help come from?  My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip – he who watches over you will not slumber.” (Psalm 121:3). The God who made the universe (the biggest of big pictures) also cares about us individually to the point that he doesn’t want us to slip or doubt that he is always ready to help us.  

Let us make every effort to consider both viewpoints – the broad and the narrow – so that we make our groups and ourselves strong and healthy. And always remember that God will help us discern both the vision and the best ways to put the vision into action.        

The other day my twelve-year-old son Clay and I were discussing his recent track meet. Clay said, “I did everything I was supposed to do at the meet.” I asked, “what were you supposed to do?” He responded, “I got third in high jump. My 4×200 relay team got second. And I got first in my hurdles race. I did everything I was supposed to do.” 

Clay has always been fast, but we are new to the sport. I knew that you could win races individually. But until three weeks ago, I didn’t know that the team also earns points for more than first place. At the end of the meet, the scores are added up to determine which school team wins the meet. Even though Clay didn’t win first in every event, he was satisfied with his performance because he and his coaches had discussed his role beforehand. The kids worked on their individual races and also worked together, so the team won the meet.

I appreciated Clay’s approach to the matter. It’s not that he wasn’t trying hard in all his events. He ran his leg of the relay like a demon to catch up with the person who was in second at that point in the race. But he also had a realistic view of what he could accomplish and how he could best contribute to the team. 

The Apostle Paul famously analogized the body of Christ to the physical body:

“Just as a body, though one, has many parts, but all its many parts form one body, so it is with Christ. . . . [I]f the ear should say, ‘Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,’ it would not for that reason stop being part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be? But in fact God has placed the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. If they were all one part, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, but one body.” (1 Corinthians 12:12; 15-20). 

I’ve not always followed Apostle Paul’s advice, though: there’ve been plenty of times when I’ve felt that I don’t belong because I don’t have a particular talent or skill. Or because I’m not the best at the things I do. It’s so easy to focus on individual performance, or the lack thereof, and compare ourselves to other individuals.  Sometimes, I forget that we are all in this thing called life together, and we can’t do or be everything at the same time. 

I was thinking about this passage when it occurred to me that not even Jesus did “everything” when he was here on earth. Based on stories in Scripture, I don’t believe he healed everyone in the crowds surrounding him. He certainly didn’t give folks the formula for penicillin or tell them how to build a car – things that could’ve spread wellness and his message much more effectively after he left earth. He came here to do a certain job and spread his message at a specific time in history. Jesus knew he’d done what he’d set out to do when he said, “it is finished,” not because he was finished being a part of humanity’s journey but because he knew his role in that space and time was complete. (John 19:30).

We can take solace that Jesus couldn’t do it all or at least, chose not to do it all, while he was here. We can look at our families, churches, and communities and assess what our role is in a particular season of life. Perhaps, we can better realize we are part of a team in so many circumstances. We can look to others to help us. It’s not all on us individually. God doesn’t call us to do everything. If we take time to figure out what we are supposed to do for the time being, for the sake of the larger teams to which we belong, then we can feel satisfied knowing we’ve done our part for now. 

Clay fulfilled his tasks at the track meet and came away completely content and confident in his role. Let us pray that God helps us understand what God needs us to do, at this time, in this place, for our teams, so that we can act as the body of Christ and spread God’s love. 

We were shopping for new shoes for my son Clay when my nine-year-old son Alex said he might like to look at shoes as well. I paused for a moment. Alex is not always the easiest shoe shopper. He is quite particular about how the shoes fit and feel, especially their width. I looked down at his shoes and realized he would need some new ones soon, so I reluctantly agreed. 

I loosened the laces on a shoe, and he tried it on. When he didn’t immediately reject it, I handed him the second shoe of the pair. He walked around a little and then told me that I’d done something to the first shoe that I hadn’t done to the second. He pulled the shoe off and asked me to do my “mumbo jumbo” to the second shoe. I realized that he wasn’t using mumbo jumbo in a negative way, so I loosened the laces of the shoe and handed it back. He put it back on and nodded his satisfaction. “You did your mumbo jumbo,” he said. I started to explain how I’d merely loosened the laces when he put his hand up to stop me. Then he said, “Don’t ruin your magic.”

His comment got to me because I think a lot of us “ruin our magic” on a regular basis. We criticize ourselves and not in a constructive manner. Instead, we tear ourselves down with our cruel self-talk. We deemphasize our unique qualities, assuming if we can do it, anyone can. When someone thanks us for doing something for them, we may say “it was nothing.” We believe we don’t offer anything special or important to the world. Feelings of failure pervade our minds. The pressure we impose on ourselves to reach perfection is immense even if the task is impossible. We compare ourselves with others and almost always come up lacking. Maybe it’s just me, but based on my discussions with others, in particular other women, many of us spend a too much time denigrating instead of building ourselves up. We ruin our own magic. 

In the days before Jesus entered Jerusalem before his death, he visited with his friends Martha, Mary, and Lazarus in Bethany. After dinner one night, Mary took an expensive perfume, poured it on Jesus’ feet, and then wiped his feet with her hair. (John 12:1-11). In other versions of the story, she pours the perfume on his head, but in every account, the people grumble about her actions saying she should’ve sold the perfume and given the money to the poor instead. (Matt.  26:6-13; Mark 14:1-9). But Jesus would have none of that. “Leave her alone,” he said “Why are you bothering her? She has done a beautiful thing to me.” (Mark 14:6). She’d demonstrated her character and heart by caring in such an extravagant way for Jesus, and he wanted her to be celebrated not ridiculed. In fact, Jesus said, “She did what she could. She poured perfume on my body beforehand to prepare for my burial. Truly I tell you, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.” (Mark 14:9).

Jesus cares for us in the same way he cared for Mary. He believes that we are valuable and have much to offer the world. He doesn’t want others to treat us badly, and he doesn’t want us to treat ourselves that way either. I think that many of us are our own worst enemies. Jesus took on Mary’s critics, but if Jesus had expressed his deep appreciation to Mary, and she’d said, “oh, it was nothing,” I think he would’ve corrected her too. He would’ve told her he loved her, and he wanted her to love herself too. 

God pours out his love for us and wants us to embrace that love. God doesn’t like our unkind words and thoughts when they’re aimed at others or ourselves. What if we believe in the best versions of ourselves, the versions God sees? Perhaps we could stop our self-defeating behavior. When we start to beat ourselves up, let’s remember God’s deep and abiding love for us and adopt Alex’s words as our own mantra: “Don’t ruin your magic!” 

As Riley’s dance recital approached, I reached out to a couple of my dance mom friends assuming we would take the lead in collecting money from the dance company’s families to buy teacher gifts and flowers as we had for the past few years. But when I brought it up, they reminded me the tradition was that the moms of senior daughters didn’t do the gifts because they usually had so much on their plates. We agreed that we had a lot on our collective plates. My friend Kim noted that the moms of the younger girls would be happy to help and then said, “We’ve never even asked them to help.” In that moment, I knew she was right. I sent a group text the next morning, and within minutes, the younger dancers’ moms had gladly agreed to take over the process. All we had to do was ask. 

I think we choose not to ask people to participate in many situations. If we hadn’t asked the dance moms, they wouldn’t have known that we needed or wanted their help. If we don’t extend an invitation to join in conversation, we exclude others who might be longing for a chance to speak. If we don’t reach out to check on others, we miss the opportunity for connection. If we don’t tell people that we want them to come with us, we won’t give them the opening they need to become part of the group. We assume that if others want to help or be involved in any way, they’ll take it upon themselves, but this is rarely the case. All of us need to feel wanted. We need to invite others into our circles, our communities, and our lives.

Jesus invited people. When he first approached the men who would become his disciples, he said, “Come, follow me” (Matt. 4:19). After Zacchaeus climbed a tree to catch a glance of him, Jesus invited himself over to the man’s house. Jesus said, “Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today” (Luke 19:5). Jesus wanted the little children to come to him (Luke 18:16) and told Peter to come out of the boat and walk on water with him (Matt. 14:29). At one point, Jesus and his disciples were trying to have a conversation, but “because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, ‘Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest’” (Mark 6:30-31). And after Jesus was crucified and resurrected, he called to the disciples to bring him some of the fish they’d just caught saying, “Come and have breakfast” (John 21:12).

Jesus didn’t assume folks would join or follow him. Instead, he asked them to help him, to have a meal, or get away from the stress of life for a little while. The God of the universe invited people then and continues to call us today. God asks us to partner with him in inviting everyone to share in God’s community and his love. 

My family loves basketball. Jed and Clay play the game, and we follow the Dallas Mavericks obsessively. I’ve learned that the team that can set the tempo for most of the game is often the team that wins. Especially if the team likes to play fast and can get the opposing team to speed up more than they usually would. Our star player Luka Doncic is gifted in many amazing ways, but one skill he is known for is his ability to play the game at his own pace – a slower pace. He doesn’t cave into the pressure from other teams to unnecessarily hurry his shots. Recently, when asked about his ability to maintain his steadiness, he said, “I play at my own pace because I’m not fast. I would like to be fast.” Despite his desire to possibly play with more quickness, he has the self-awareness to stay within his abilities when he’s playing.

Last Saturday, I woke up at 6:00 am and ran nonstop until 6:00 pm (after staying up late the night before working on a project). My son Clay had two middle school soccer games followed by solo and quartet bass performances for orchestra. My husband Ben was out of town with our oldest son Jed and therefore couldn’t assist.  Thankfully, my daughter Riley helped with my youngest son Alex, or I wouldn’t have been able to manage the day. I felt harried but kept my head throughout the day until I had to rush home for something we forgot for orchestra. When a car cut me off, I honked, and the driver shrugged through his open window. That was when the pace of the day caught up to me. I honked again and gestured in a very un-Christian manner. After the anger subsided, I felt terrible about my behavior. I was so sped up with the rapidity of the day that I acted in a way that did not fit with the manner in which I want to conduct myself.  I wasn’t playing the game at my own pace anymore.

While I couldn’t control the speed of life that day, on most other days I have a choice. Sometimes, I strike the right balance between productivity and rest that allows me to maintain my equilibrium. At other times though, I let external factors control my pace. My to-do list makes my mind frantic, and my emotions frayed. And that’s when I’m in danger of reacting to others in ways inconsistent with the person I want to be. 

The author of Hebrews famously said, “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith” (Heb. 12:1-2). In the previous chapter, the writer detailed the journeys of many who’d gone before, such as Abraham, Sarah, Moses, Rahab, and others, who “by faith” had traveled their own unique journeys (Heb. 11). Then the writer advises us to persevere in our own race, looking to Jesus for help. He didn’t say we must all run the same race, at the same pace. Indeed, none of the people he listed encountered the same sets of circumstances.  

The race or game for each of us will be different. If we keep that in mind, then perhaps we can pause and reassess when we find ourselves playing at a tempo that is not our own. We can pray for God’s guidance to discern the best way to manage our pace in any given season of life. We can stay true to ourselves and play our own game if we look to God and act “by faith.”  No matter what, God will be with us every step of the way. 

I enjoyed my restful weekend getaway to Santa Fe. I soaked in the artistic vibe, visited historic churches, and ate delicious Southwestern food. All was well until I got on the escalator to catch the tram at the airport to travel from one terminal to the other to get back to my car. I wasn’t up very far when my roller bag fell, and I couldn’t grab it quickly enough. Down it went on the escalator, one step at a time as I backtracked attempting to catch it. But I couldn’t reach it. Thankfully, no one was behind me on the escalator, so my bag and I didn’t disturb anyone else as down we went. At the same time, there was no one to help stop the situation, so we kept going until we reached the bottom and the bag stopped, and I fell down where the escalator met the floor. 

A young man approached me and asked if I was okay. I bounced back up quickly and said I was fine. I started back up the escalator, bag secure, and hurried to the tram. I knew my knee and elbow didn’t feel great (see picture below of my knee complete with escalator track marks), but I didn’t take time to look at them. Instead, I got on the tram and tried to act like nothing had happened. I found myself swimming in embarrassment though, almost as if I were shrinking into myself. I felt like everyone had seen my tumble even though no one else on the tram had seen what happened. 

I think sometimes we walk through life wearing our mistakes as if others can see our worst moments. Even when others know nothing about what has happened or what we’ve done, the shame or pain may weigh us down and shape how we approach everything. We may carry the heaviness with us causing us to pull back from others. We put our guard up and hide our true selves afraid that if someone really knew us, they wouldn’t like what they see.

Yet, the One who knows us and knows all the choices we’ve made and all that has happened to us does not want us to live our lives in shame. God forgives us and wants us to work through the process of forgiving ourselves. The writer of the book of Ephesians said, “Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you” (Eph. 4:31-32). This advice to be kind, compassionate, and forgiving applies to how we treat others as well as how we treat ourselves. God doesn’t want us to talk to ourselves in hateful ways or berate ourselves constantly for the past. God doesn’t want us to always feel burdened by the pain we’ve experienced.

Working through pain and the past isn’t easy. It can take a long time, and we may need a great deal of support, including help from mental health professionals. But we must remember that God wants us to heal from the past wounds – those imposed by others and those we’ve imposed on ourselves.

When we find ourselves withdrawing into ourselves and away from others because we are convinced we are unworthy and unlovable, let us remember that God forgives us and loves us. God wants us to follow his example and forgive and love ourselves too.