Guilt

It creeps through me like a cancer bent on destroying my soul tissue. Five letters to that word, guilt. But oh, what five letters doth that word make in my life

It roared havoc my way this morning. I was driving from the bank, and pulled left, only to see a car in front of me. I stopped, avoiding the car. Waved my hand in sorry-ness. I felt mortified. And the lady in the car sneered at me. She yelled, too, but I couldn’t hear her diatribe. No matter. Her angry words somehow made it into my head.

You’re a terrible driver.

You should pay better attention.

You aren’t worthy to be here on earth.

Yep, my guilt takes side trips. It starts with the voice of accusation for the situation at hand, then morphs into a terrible blanket statement about my worth (or lack thereof).

Sure, I know the verses. About truth setting us free. About Jesus setting us free from the law of sin and death. I know that. But it’s hard for me to believe it.

Just before the car incident, I had breakfast with two dear friends. One said this: “Mary, you’re good at telling the truth, but you need to start believing the truth.”

And the truth is, even if I make a mistake at the wheel, I am deeply cherished and loved by my Creator. He has infused in me worth from the moment He shaped me in my mom’s belly. Even if I stopped being able to produce things, or if my “beauty” faded like an autumn sunset. Even if my intellect slipped. He would still cherish me. Because He made me.

That is the truth.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary: When will you believe that truth?

I don’t know, Jesus, but I’m on the road. My feet are on the path, gravel between my toes. I want to walk this path of believing, but it’s so hard. I’ve grown accustomed to the lies in my head, the sneering lady who barks unworthiness. Free me from her, Lord. Please. Because I’m longing for freedom. And joy. And peace. And the ability to smile even when I fail. Help me take steps on this journey of belief. One step at a time. Amen.

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