Seeing the Exchange

I was haunted by my weakness and believed every lie of the enemy that I had somehow forfeited the promises of God, every prophetic word spoken over my life, and had done something wrong to lose my portion of the promise. Considering I couldn’t see anything for myself in the light of truth, I believed him.

Redemption that is self-reliant makes reaching the end of yourself resemble reaching the end of your life.

Living for the expectation that my suffering would soon cease, I prepared for the holidays. This Christmas my entire extended family would gather from across the country at my grandma’s house. Christmas 2016 would be the perfect time to say goodbye. I spent hundreds of dollars purchasing everyone gifts and cards, including the family and kiddos I worked for. I would bake three different desserts and two side dishes for the holiday meal. It was going to be my final memory, so I had to offer my best. I wanted to leave a legacy of love behind—that each one of them mattered to me, that they were worthy and innocent in my eyes.
One of the final tasks on my holiday to-do list was my hair appointment. Like many women—black women especially—I have had a close bond with my hair stylists over the years. One in particular has been styling my hair since I was four years old. Despite my efforts that morning to put on a warm smile, she could tell something was wrong from the moment I sat down in the salon chair. Within minutes, tears were rolling down both our faces as I shared my hopelessness battling depression and how ready I was to end my life. She hugged me tight, got her therapist on the phone, and booked me an appointment with him for that afternoon. I had never been to therapy before, but she assured me it was a step toward help that I would not regret. She prayed over me, handed me his address, and said, “You’re going to be okay.” As I drove straight to his office, I remember thinking it wouldn’t matter what he had to say. I was convinced that an end to my existence was the only way to escape my shame and alleviate the perpetual cycle of rescue that my life demanded of those around me. Little did I know, this session would mark the beginning of unearthing the innermost root of my shame.

When unaware of the freedom found in surrender or of submission of will that brings healing, physical death appears to be the only liberation.

Time slowed down as he said to me in conclusion of our session, “Until you know what it is that you want, not what you think others want from you, you will not be happy. What is it that you want?” I felt hollow as my mind went blank. I had no idea who I was nor what I wanted, just who I thought I should be. I wanted to be composed, stronger, independent, and successful. It had not occurred to me that who I thought I should be and who I truly was were two different identities. My shame and disappointment were yoked to striving to live up to a reputation of a simulated identity. My perspective began to shift as I asked myself, who was I? And who did I want to be? I went through two more therapy sessions before I understood we were circling these same questions. I would wrestle with my identity, shame, and overwhelming anxiety about the future until I could see these were questions I could not answer on my own.

At the time, my brain computed life as pain and death as healing. Consequently, I defined hope for healing as hope for death. I viewed suicide as an act to freedom from all the dishonor my life carried and an escape from the unending roller coaster of depression and anxiety. I was subconsciously upholding reverence for shame. My continual focus on my failures allowed for its illegitimate authority over my life.

Shame is always subject to where you permit influence and therefore is self-inflicted.

You read that right. Shame is self-inflicted. Now bear with me; my shame stemmed from failure to fulfill what I believed to be my purpose. I was deceived, which came from consenting to other ideas of truth in order to fill in gaps of my understanding. From that foundation of deception, I built my thoughts, which triggered my emotions, grief, and shame. The truth of my purpose would not and cannot lead to shame, for God does not shame; He redeems. My decision to believe less than the truth and my failure to put on the full armor of God gave permission to allow other influences into my life, leading to my shame. God never once shamed me about my inadequacies, He completed them in Christ and had warned me to access His protection.

Yet I would spend another season of my life building on a foundation of deceit. I would then fail again and grant further permission to shame. It was this perpetual cycle of seeking to self-govern, then failing, then feeling shame. Over and over again. It was not until I could see the futile nature of self-governance that I saw (in contrast) the valuable nature of surrender. Surrendering to truth is harder than surrendering to deception. Truth requires all of you; deception requires just a piece.