Within Our Own Walls

During my summer in Puebla, some friends took me to visit the Secret Convent of Santa Monica. Hidden in the heart of the city, Santa Monica housed daughters of wealthy Christians who had become pregnant out of wedlock. The silence of their shame still filled the convent's tight corridors and inner gardens. One large room felt hollow and empty, the focal point being a tall blank wall. Holes covered the wall and connected the empty room to a public cathedral on the other side. Girls would stand at the holes to watch their friends and family attend mass and reach for the smallest connection to their former lives. My friends told me that there were children who never saw the outside of the convent. They were born to their unwed mothers, raised by the nuns, and died within four walls tucked in the heart of a busy city...a city unaware of their existence.

Last week I was telling my brother-in-law Bobby about a friend of mine. I commented that she had an incredible heart, but beat herself up a lot. We both reflected that this seems to be the case with most Christians. We have perfected the art of self-deprecation.

We are born, raised, and die within the silent walls of our own shame.

"I shouldn't have said that to him." "I need to pray more." "Why can't I break this addiction?"

I wonder that we have lost the message of Christ so quickly. It's as if we BELIEVE Jesus lived and died...so that we could pass our lives beating ourselves up!

But Jesus came so that we might live, free from shame.

Romans 8:1, 14-16 "Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus...For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God. The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry 'Abba, Father.' The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God's children."