still wanted, always wanted

I've messed up too much.

I'm too tired. 

What's the point?

Just leave me alone.

I still want you.

This sermon addresses the topic that makes us grimace. Squirm a little in our seats. Makes us excuse ourselves from the room. Avert our eyes. Cross our arms protectively.

Shame. 

It's true. Once you realize what shame really is (in its many forms) - you see it everywhere. I hear it in the narratives of almost everyone I know. I ate too much, I feel so gross. I'm not dressed nicely enough to go there. I felt so stupid for being upset. 

Shame is insidious and toxic. I realized how much shame had run rough-shot in my own life and was astounded. My tank was full and I had been running on high-grade shame. No matter what I did, said, or or looked - I was never good enough. I internalized it, projected it onto others, ignored it.

Where does that leave us, weary shame-filled souls?

In a clear voice, without a touch of irony or own personal gain - He says, "I still want you."

You are worthy. Your love, your work, you. 

Me? Am I willing/able to be wanted? Loved? Seen as valuable?

Jesus, will you please take me into your arms and allow me to be loved? I don't know how to do that because I've lived so long believing with every fiber of my being that I wasn't worth it.  

Grace. A belief, even if it is a nascent one, that what we are - is worth something. He goes to that place that hurts so much we think we will die and offers us grace and love and hope and mercy and an invitation to live with a tank full of them. Those other voices of shame will dissipate as we begin to believe such audacious, beautiful, life-giving truth that I am still wanted.

I'm going to say it again - you are wanted.