Yellow Shorts

And we are put on earth a little space,

That we may learn to bear the beams of love.

-William Blake

Earlier this week, my two-year old daughter Aurora got out of bed, put her bright yellow shorts on, bounded to the mirror, and declared: “I LOVE myself.” Do you ever have moments that melt your heart and pierce your soul at the same time? It is profound to witness the way a pure drop of childlike wonder can dissipate a sea of cynicism.

Aurora was full of herself in the best possible way. This expression has come to bear negative connotations. When we hear someone described as ‘full of himself,’ we often deduce that he is critical, willing to place himself to advantage by putting others down, or at best, chronically self-centred. Somehow I suspect that comparison or criticism was the furthest thing from Aurora’s mind. She was simply full of the unique beauty God had given her, full of all the vibrant joy He packed inside her little body, and full of the humble pleasure that a pair of bright shorts can bestow. 

Why does this image carry so much impact? I honestly cannot find an adequate word to capture the mix of joy, sadness, and longing that flooded over me while watching my daughter. Almost like I was simultaneously celebrating and grieving something precious that had been lost. I wonder if these kinds of fleeting moments offer a snapshot of the earth God originally created, a world without shame. 

For something as old as time and immense as space, shame is often mislabeled or outright ignored. Perhaps, somewhat like a black hole, we can only begin to comprehend it by the movement that surrounds it. Sometimes we circle it like planets locked into a perpetual orbit. The simultaneous push away from past failures and push towards elusive perfection can send us spinning with a dizzying momentum. We also might weave an elaborate web of illusions, deceptions, and blatant lies to mask its existence. 

And then, there’s those raw moments that shame completely engulfs us, making any type of motion feel completely impossible.

Every year, there’s about five or six dates I wish I could rip clean out of the calendar. Today is one of those dates. I did not wake up thinking about bright shorts and I certainly did not wake up pondering my awesomeness. As soon as I opened my eyes, I felt myself being smothered by something older than reason and stronger than logic. A thousand silent accusations covered me like a weighted blanket, targeting not merely my actions, but my very identity and worth. And the weight literally felt like it could crush me. 

This is the point where a sensational writer would pivot to a profound realization, leading to another powerful yellow shorts kind of moment. I am not a sensational writer, and sadly, I don’t own a pair of yellow shorts. I do possess a healthy amount of Dutch stubbornness, and a deep conviction that shame can only thrive in the dark. So, I did the only thing I knew to do. I got up, and simply kept putting one foot in front of the other. Every time shame began to create a dark corner, I gave it a name and found a combating beam of love, straight from the heart of God. 

I am chosen (Eph 1:4)

I am known (Psalms 139:13)

I am cherished (Hosea 11:4)

I am loved (Romans 8:38-39)

I wish these days would stop being hard. Honestly, if I could skip them entirely I likely would. However, after a few rotations around the sun, I have slowly started to experience them differently. When old wounds reopen, shame can sting like acid. But, grace also has an opportunity to heal in the deepest ways. 

For every dark canyon, there is a beam of love potent enough to illuminate every crevice. God beholds me with unfailing love, unbridled joy, and overflowing delight. He doesn’t see an imposter, a failure, or a reject. He sees His Son. If it takes a lifetime of painful anniversaries to learn to bear this truth, I will continue to welcome them as a gift.