From Shame to Freedom
Day 4: Finding Freedom in the Messiest Places
Hey friend,
I want to tell you about something that's been on my heart lately—about those moments when we find ourselves in the most unlikely places, feeling like hope has packed up and left town. Maybe you've been there too. You know what I'm talking about: that dim motel room of the soul, where the fluorescent lights buzz a little too loudly and everything feels worn around the edges.
I've been thinking about how transformation has this funny way of showing up in the places we least expect it. Not in the perfectly lit sanctuary or the Instagram-worthy quiet time corner, but in the raw, honest moments where we can't pretend anymore.
Here's what I've learned: God doesn't wait for us to get our act together before showing up. That musty motel room, the hospital waiting area, your cluttered kitchen table at 2 AM—these can become holy ground too. Sometimes it's the very lack of beauty or comfort that opens our hearts wider than any cathedral could.
I remember sitting in a place like that once, surrounded by nothing impressive, feeling like failure was written all over everything. Just floating down a lazy river of shame. But you know what? In that stripped-down moment, with no distractions and nowhere to hide (more like run), something beautiful began to stir. It wasn't dramatic or Instagram-worthy. It was just... real.
Then He said, “Do not draw near this place. Take your sandals off your feet, for the place where you stand is holy ground.”
Exodus 3:5
For the Scripture says, “Whoever believes on Him will not be put to shame.”
Romans 10:11
but as He who called you is holy, you also be holy in all your conduct, 16 because it is written, “Be holy, for I am holy.”
1 Peter 1:15
Instead of your shame you shall have double honor, And instead of confusion they shall rejoice in their portion. Therefore in their land they shall possess double; Everlasting joy shall be theirs.
Isaiah 61:7The Quiet Revolution of Gratitude
When shame is whispering its familiar lies—you're not enough, you've messed up too much, God couldn't possibly want to meet you here—gratitude becomes our quiet rebellion. I'm not talking about fake-it-till-you-make-it positivity. I'm talking about the small, stubborn act of noticing what's still good when everything feels broken.
Sometimes it starts ridiculously small: clean sheets, breath in your lungs, the fact that you woke up to try again. But here's the thing about gratitude—it's like a gentle lever that shifts our whole perspective. Each small "thank you" loosens shame's grip just a little more.
I started keeping lists. Messy, honest lists of tiny mercies I could find even on the hardest days. And slowly—so slowly I almost missed it—those lists became stepping stones from fear to trust.
The Difference Between Shame and Honesty
Can we talk about something for a minute? There's a world of difference between honest self-reflection and drowning in shame. One keeps us stuck and paralyzed; the other actually moves us toward healing.
Honest reflection looks reality in the face through the gaze of Jesus Christ—seeing both the mess and the possibility. It's admitting where we feel lost or afraid without setting up permanent residence there Still choosing to follow after The Good Shepherd. It's praying with open hands, desperately honest, but still believing change is possible.
Shame, on the other hand, is a liar. It tells us the mess is all there is, that we're beyond help, that God couldn't possibly want to work with this level of brokenness. Therefore we should punish, loathe, and quit ourselves. But friend, I've learned that God specializes in meeting us right in our mess.
When Worship Gets Real
I used to think worship was about having it all together, about performing the right emotions at the right volume with the right words. But the most impactful moments of worship I've experienced have been the raw ones—sitting in silence with tears I couldn't explain, whispering "help me" instead of singing hymns, or simply showing up broken and being okay with that.
There's something liberating about dropping the performance and just being present with God. Even as the music fades and the only song playing is the one from my heart. Whether you're in a crowded room feeling invisible, or alone in your car during lunch break, or standing in your kitchen wondering how you'll make it through the day—worship can happen there too.
Real worship isn't about getting it right; it's about getting honest. It's less "Am I doing this right?" and more "God, where are You meeting me in this exact place?" Proper anticipation.
Freedom That Doesn't Depend on Circumstances
Here's what I'm learning about freedom: it's not about having all your problems solved, avoided, or your prayers answered the way you want. Real freedom in Christ comes from knowing you're not alone in the mess, that God's love doesn't hinge on your performance or your situation.
Circumstantial freedom says "I'm free because things are going well." But relational freedom says "I'm free because I'm known and loved, whatever today brings." That second kind? It changes everything.
Moving Forward Together
The journey from shame to freedom isn't a straight line, and it's definitely not a one-time event. It's more like a daily practice of choosing honesty over hiding, gratitude over grumbling, and trust over fear. Some days we nail it; other days we barely remember how.
But here's what I want you to know: you don't have to wait for perfect circumstances to meet with God. You don't have to clean up your act before you show up. The Lord is available right where you are, in whatever ordinary, imperfect place you find yourself today.
So whether you're in your own version of that dim motel room, or sitting pretty but feeling empty, know this—you're not beyond the reach of grace. Your mess doesn't disqualify you; it might just be the exact place where transformation wants to begin.
Take heart, friend. God specializes in making beautiful things out of broken places.
Leave your shame in the Potter’s Hands.
