Step Forty: Shameless

Dear Readers,

Like most cutters, I have scars that crawl over my arms and legs. They are a testament to what I have done to myself. The older ones are nothing but thin white lines that disappear in the movement of my skin, these can only be found when you are searching for them. The newer ones, though, stand out as ugly, dark blemishes – tainting my flesh. From time to time, I find myself tracing my scars. Sometimes it is in desire and still others it is in disgust. Sometimes I am so ashamed of them, I want to cover them in foundation, hide them away from the world, so that no one will see what I have done to myself, so that no one will see what I have done to God. It is not easy baring your greatest weakness upon your arm, like a bright yellow post-it note inviting any and all who see to judge. It isn't easy to witness the looks of shock, pity, and disgust when people realize those scars are self-inflicted, or to look in the mirror and realize that you have marred your own beauty. 

Recently, I was holding my "adopted" baby brother. Watching him sleep in my scarred arms, the comparison was surreal. Here was new life, new hope, and a beautiful creation... cradled by death. In that moment, God spoke. He asked me if I liked our love story. Did I like that He had been my prince, swooped in and saved me from death's embrace? In the world of fairy tales, it doesn't get more awesome or romantic than that... white horsed princes riding in to save the day. Of course, I responded, how could I not? Then why are you ashamed? Those are not just scars, not just mistakes, they are our beginning. Our tale would not be the same without them. Our tale would not be OURS without them. 

My scars are ugly, but they tell the tale of my life and my love, like words etched into a page. I will (try to) have no shame. They were mistakes, every single one, and I am in no way condoning cutting. But all of us have mistakes, be they easily visible upon our arm, or hidden in the depths of our past. Too many of us are living in shame of those mistakes. That stops here and now. Each screw up, each mistake, is another chapter of our love story. It is another time the Lord was generous and merciful and continued to love, even in our lowliest state. There is no point in living in shame, not when we could be allowing that same mistake to bring glory to our Father. 

"... and she'll pray 'I want to fall in love with you.'" Jars of Clay "Love Song For a Savior"