Sage is lying in the
far corner of our bedroom. We sit beside her and take turns
talking softly to her, reassuring her that we are not mad. I
feel terrible for getting after her so harshly.
“You must have been frightened, Little Girl,” I say in a
mothering tone. “I’m so sorry!”
Within moments, she responds to our calmer, loving
tones with happy thumps of her tail against the floor. I place
my face near hers, and she licks my cheek. Acceptance and
relief replace her fear, disgrace and shame.
Sage was not the only one to know shame and disgrace. How
many times have I blundered in my life? How often have I
made bad choices to gossip, to not tel the complete truth, or
to falter and fail in other ways? I’ve ripped my own couches in
a manner of speaking, letting rage, fear or hurt overtake me. I
know what it’s like to have the stuffing ripped from my heart,
to give a retaliatory response. But later I cower guiltily in a
corner, afraid to face my failures and fears.
Like Sage, it’s easier for me to stay in my corner of
shame than to admit my error. However, Scripture tells me
I don’t have to stay in the corner. My disgrace and guilt
are covered by Jesus’ sacrifice. His blood atones for my sins.
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