“If you
had to send one of us away, like take one of us out of Hosea’s Heart, and you had to pick one of us… who would you
pick?” One of my teenagers sprang the question on me and caught me off guard. I
think she noticed my frown of confusion because she continued without allowing
me to answer. “Because I think it should be me. You would send me away, right?”
“Why
would you say that?” I was still trying to put the pieces together in my head
as to where this question was coming from. But I didn’t have to work to find
the answer; her heart came out in the next breath.
“Because
I’ve done a lot of wrong things this year, and I…” her eyes glistened over. “I
just feel unworthy to be a part of Hosea’s Heart anymore.”
My heart
lurched to new life at feeling – in my own stomach – the ache in her chest.
“I won’t
lie to you,” I gently set my hands on her shoulders and looked deep into her
hungry eyes, which were now at full attention. “Yes, you’ve had a tough year.
And yes, I’ve been very disappointed at certain times…”
She
nodded, accepting the weight of her own “failure,” but I quickly continued.
“But you are not a disappointment. Given the
choice I would never send you away. So, get those lies and thoughts out of your
head.”
“Really?”
her tears disappeared with surprise.
“I’ve
been disappointed, but you are not a
disappointment,” I repeated. “There’s a fine line between guilt and shame.
Guilt is the feeling that you did something wrong; it brings on humility and
confession, which gives you healing and freedom. But shame is the feeling that you as a person are wrong – a failure –
and that only brings on depression and hopelessness.”
“Yeah, I
think I’ve been giving in to shame,” she replied, still looking defeated.
“Listen,
sweetheart,” her eyes lifted back to mine. “I am proud of you.” I saw her take
in the weight of those words with a sharp breath. “I’m proud of you, not
because you’re perfect, but because you were willing to take responsibilities
for your mistakes. You had such great courage to confess, even in front of all
your sisters, risking complete embarrassment and shame, and you took the
responsibility of your own poor choices. That takes courage. That takes
strength. That takes both humility and authority.”
“Wow, I
didn’t know. I thought you wouldn’t want me here anymore,” she shook her head,
exhaling the inner pain of believing she wasn’t worthy anymore. “Thank you,”
she hugged me.
“No,
thank you. You have potential to change the world. I know it.”
Her eyes
lit up like a wild fire. I could tell her passion was reignited. And I knew in
that moment, I was also newly alive. Encouraged by her vulnerability and
inspired by her humility, I thanked God for allowing me to be a part of small
but significant moments like this.
Sometimes, all it takes is a
word. One spark can start a fire, and one word can heal a soul.
After all, it was a word that
began it all: “And God said, ‘Let
there be light,’ and there was light” [Gen 1:3].
And the Word that saved us all:
“In the beginning was the Word, and the
Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with
God. 3 All things
were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was
made. 4 In him was
life,[a] and the life was the light of men. 5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”
[John 1:1-5]
