fractured, but future eyes
No one comes into a relationship as a clean slate. No one comes in without baggage. We all have done things we are ashamed of, and if we haven’t we’re afraid to. This is captivity. Shame stops us from being free. It isolates us, leading us into separation from God and others. It’s a cycle that recreates itself. If we don’t deal with shame first, hope of freedom in relationship with God and man is limited.
Shame isn’t self-generative; it doesn’t spring up by itself. Shame itself calls upon a high standard in order to inform its accusations. There’s a “correct” narrative that my actions are matched up against in order to be labelled “wrong.” Shame is heavy and sticky, especially when it comes to something as vulnerable as our hearts in romantic relationships.
In all honesty, I feel marked by what I could term as my “past.” Really it’s a story that I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life. What is past is out of my control now. What is in my control is how I choose to carry it. I have always been afraid that I’ll be forever tainted, somehow unworthy, never able to “get over it” or how hard it was for my heart to brace against the pain of emotional abuse and the shame of looking back at my actions and realizing that I was pushed beyond what I was comfortable with sexually. The reality is that significant events do mark us, both the good and the bad. It was and is a long process to accept that God means that fact for GOOD and not for evil. It’s a process to realize that not only is God walking with me he is carrying my story for me.
Many are probably like me. The only books I’ve ever read on dating or marriage are how-to books, tips on staying pure until you get hitched. But what happens when it’s too late? I suffered a lot of unnecessary heartache while I was convinced it was “too late” for me to be pure. I was convinced that it was too late for me to be in a relationship that honored God. I was convinced that because of my past, any future marriage would not be pleasing to God. I felt that I had failed a test that couldn’t be retaken.
It is my hope that if you’ve never heard this said to you before, that you hear me when I say that the truest reality is that God does not withhold blessings because you are unworthy. It is precisely because you are unworthy that God fills what you lack with his goodness. Our sin demanded the greatest good: the sacrifice of Jesus himself. My scars narrate the grace of God in my life. My lack is his glory. And his love is my freedom. I encourage you to put aside pride that causes us to self-flagellate and take up the forgiveness that’s freely offered. God will not withhold a god-honoring partnership from you just because you’ve had sex before marriage. He will not withhold a compassionate partner from you because you were addicted to pornography. But turn, reorient yourself, centering the grace of the cross and the call of the kingdom, and you will find, as I have, that you lack nothing.
Suffering through emotional abuse, depression, and actively suicidal seasons has taught me the meaning of hope. Ironic, I know. There are several layers of irony there. I now look forward to the future more than anyone else. Getting through those hard times and the heaviness of shame has taught me, yes, that I will never truly be unmarked, but that one day, the true guaranteed future of the coming of Jesus means that in the end I will be truly free, truly unmarked and unmarred.
The challenge is to find or be found by a partner with future eyes, who sees you in the light that God sees you with mercy, compassion, and in light of the resurrection.
