“Not this, Lord. Please don’t make me do this. “ I silently pleaded as I sat, hugging my knees to my chest. “I want freedom, but there must be another way.” I watched admiringly as my squad of 44 took turns stepping into freedom, admitting to things that make them feel scared, inadequate, or shameful. I wanted to release my shame in a moment of deep vulnerability, but I was afraid. I’d never shared this with a group so large.
For a long time I have been burdened with the same voice of shame. A voice telling me to be ashamed of the way I look, or physical differences and “flaws.” Often this voice is crippling, affecting how I interact with myself and with others, and shaming me into feeling ugly or unlovable.
Shortly before I came on the Race I had been intentional about praying for healing from this shame. The Lord and I had been walking in this process for months, but here I was, faced with the opportunity to actually release it, and I was second-guessing it?
Shame’s voice was fighting to the death, because shame thrives when it is in the dark.
I have given my shame darkness to hide in for so long it had taken up residence – a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence and everything. As much as it was going to hurt, I knew that the only way to be from of my shame was to bring it to light.
Brene Brown says it best in her book, Daring Greatly, “Shame derives its power from being unspeakable…if we cultivate enough awareness about shame to name it and speak to it, we’ve basically cut it off at the knees. Shame hates having words wrapped around it…language and story bring light to shame and destroy it.”
I was tired of being enslaved. I was tired of being afraid. I knew what I had to do. It was time to destroy shame. Shaking, I stood up awkwardly, unsure what to do with my hands or my words, and I spoke my shame out loud. With a last fist pump to the sky and an “I am beautiful” I sat down, astonished by what I had just done.
But now I walk in freedom
Never did I think I could walk in freedom from this voice after ONE MONTH on the Race, much less walking in it in the presence of 50 people, and again, recounting it on the internet for everyone to read.
Shame is a liar. It tells you that it will be far more painful to allow others to see the cracks in you than to eradicate the lies. To walk in vulnerability is terrifying,
but I am tired of being afraid.
Over the last two months my team has become obsessed with Harry Potter. Some, like me, have read the entire series multiple times and are enjoying rereading them again. Others are reading for the first time (seeing someone experience the greatness that is Harry Potter for the first time might be one of my favorite things I’ve discovered). When I was reading the first book this month I stumbled across the perfect words to describe my freedom.
The antagonist in the series is named Voldemort. He is so feared in the wizard community that he is referred to as “He-who-must-not-be-named.” They are so terrified by him, they won’t even speak his name aloud. Harry, the protagonist, is speaking with his wise Headmaster, Dumbledore, when he calls Voldemort by his actual name, and then apologizes. Dumbledore wisely resets his apology, encourages his to continue calling him by his name and says these famous words,
“Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.”
Later, Harry is speaking to his friend, Hagrid, when he utters Voldemort’s name:
“An’ don’t say his name!” says Hagrid. “VOLDEMORT!” Harry bellowed “…I’ve met him and I’m calling him by his name”
I’ve met my shame and I am calling it by name. I’m not afraid anymore. I will bellow it out because it has no power over me anymore. Its plot of land has already been sold and filled by the One that died to take away my shame.
