Built by shame.

I don't consider myself to be the type of person who will respond with aggression to external circumstances, but I felt the need to make an exception this past Christmas. I was spending time with Hunter, his brother, Jesse, and his wife, Jordan, while my son Judah played with a few other kids in the same room. My back was turned to them, and it wasn't until Jesse stood up to leave the room and suddenly commanded one of the other children to stop what he was in the middle of doing, that I realized something was happening. There was urgency in Jesse's voice that you don't usually hear, since he's a pretty laid back guy, so this alone put me on edge. Upon investigation, I discovered that Judah had been kneed to the ground by a bigger kid, and was being held, face down in the carpet. Jesse had stood up to leave the room, and was able to intervene just as the bigger child was gearing up to jump with both knees, straight onto Judah's back. I cringed thinking about the potential for life long consequences that could have occurred had Jesse not seen, and done something about what was going on.

While driving home, I sat quietly in the car, reflecting on the incident. I felt angry, and a sense of injustice surrounded my memories of that moment. I struggled with seeing the other young child as anything but his actions and forgot entirely that he was just a little boy too, and most likely, simply playing and not even intending harm. As my thoughts continued to wander down paths of self righteous anger, a small voice in my mind whispered, "For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten son." and I broke.

Before writing this post, I toyed with the idea of not describing in detail what happened between my son and the other boy. It sounds, at least to me, extreme and in some ways unnerving. Maybe that's just because it is my son who is being "victimized." But then I realized I wanted you, whoever you may be, to feel the same indigence and even desire to defend and avenge my little boy that I felt. Because with out that deep sense of injustice knotted uncomfortably in your gut, you could never be fully enveloped in the same sense of shame and utter awe of what the gospel's message means.

Shame has become a dirty word in today's world. We are told that we should be proud of who we are and what we do and what we believe, but with out shame, we can't experience the soothing balm of God's remedy for the things that cause our shame.

I was angry at a child, an innocent little boy who did not even intend harm to my son, and I felt no love in my heart for him in the moments following their interaction. When I contrasted this to what our God did for us, by sending His perfect, beloved Son, with whom He shared a bond that cannot even be compared to my love for Judah, to die a cruel death at the hands of the people who He was dying for, I couldn't help but crumble in shame.

This shame, I feel, is so crucial to Christmas and the beginning of this New Year. Let it sink in, let it melt you. I've felt so stiff in my ways and my thoughts. I have so little room for growth because I've hit the limits of the mold I've allowed myself to fill out. I am Emily Foreman, and this is the foundation upon which all growth and change must bud from...unless I allow myself to be demolished by this truth; that I killed the Creator of my world, my son, my husband, my daughter, my very self, with my hateful heart and sin-filled nature, and in response, I receive unending love and life eternal. From there, a new life and a new hope can be born. Daily, I must be broken down and rebuilt, because daily, I sin and forget who I am and to Whom I belong...but that is the beauty of Christmas and Easter, and the New Year...we've been given a new beginning, and His mercies are new each morning.