Speaking with a new artsy friend recently, I said I could NOT draw. Her eyes got big and she intently noted that many people believed things about themselves because someone TOLD them a lie about themselves that they then unfortunately choose to believe.

She’s not wrong.

I pondered what she’d said for several days, knowing it to be true, and then internalizing as I continue to reacquaint myself with, well, myself. 😉 I realized that I knew people with severe verbal impacts from their past, holding them back. But then while I have compassion for others’ hurt…hey…bet I have some I didn’t realize I was carrying either.

I do. Well, did. When I was about four, I was singing during children’s sermon and mom turned the tape deck off early. I argued with her that I wasn’t done. She said, “that’s enough, Sarah.” But I’d practiced and would not be deterred in completion. I had incredible confidence in me, my skill, and my performance. I was four.

Fast forward 1999. Over a decade of human experience…and human breaking. Kids can be cruel, I wasn’t the cool kid, and my parents had personal challenges and a semi-nasty divorce. It was Christmas Eve, and I had to leave mom’s family party soon, to sing a solo at a church service. Grandma asked why I needed to leave, and I told her. She asked if I would sing it for her. Of course I would, I LOVED the lady. I retrieved the tape, the deck, and was ready to push play. Grandma had been distracted, and when mom asked what I was doing and I told her, her response was: “No one wants to hear that, Sarah.”

I wept all the way to church. Why was my response in youth so much more confident than in my young adulthood?

Maybe you were passionate about a project or wanted to express yourself through art…and someone said you were terrible.

Perhaps you had problems in school, and a teacher said you wouldn’t amount to much?

It’s possible you didn’t have a lot growing up, physically or emotionally. Maybe you believed the lie that you didn’t deserve much, and now you think you’re incapable of changing your circumstances…or aren’t worth the effort.

Who told you to stay quiet? Who told you that you couldn’t?

This morning, I prayed around this more and sensed biblically a garden story.

In this story, the evil one, the serpent, the father of lies, tempted Adam and Eve into original sin. Who told you you couldn’t eat from that tree? The devil introduced polarity and comparison into the world that day, and by speaking lies with authority that wasn’t his…and they believed him. WE still do. No doubt. But then, there was another voice in the garden…

“Who told you you were naked?” aka “Who have you been listening to? Who told you to hide?”

He may call us out….but He’s always calling out to us.

He made us with purpose. With talent. He made us to experience joy, love, and life, to the full. Not self-condemnation, drawing more deeply into shells we think will keep us safe from the next lie or attack.

Believing the lies keep us bound. Keep us from experiencing. Keep us from joy. Keep us from stepping out in faith. Believing the lie may even keep us from our God-given purposes…and isn’t that the evil one’s goal?

We always have a choice regarding to which voice we listen. If the story you’re hearing is filled with shame, it’s not Jesus…but we’re welcome to listen. An infinitely better alternative, though, is Our Father. He knows the serpent has been chatty, and He knows sometimes we listen. So, hear Him today as He says, “Who told you you were naked?” to our spirits.

“Who told you you couldn’t?”

“Who said you should feel ashamed?”

Today, we listen to the one who says WE CAN. WE CAN do all things through Christ. We are clothed in His splendor. We are His radiance. We are valuable, of infinite worth. And we are so, so loved.