Enough

Photo by Briana Autran Photography

Recently, I listened to a new friend's heartbreaking account of a painful moment with her child. It’s not my story to tell, but her takeaway was one I am far too familiar with: the feeling of inadequacy. “When will I be enough?” she asked. We grieved as we sat in that tension with her. Very clearly, I felt the Lord tell me to pray for my friend in that moment. But I froze. I told God, “What could I say to bolster her spirit? I battle the same feeling almost every day of my life, and I have no idea how to fight it. I wouldn’t even know what to pray.”

Yes, I know. It’s a selfish response for many reasons. Why was I trying to be her Holy Spirit? I didn’t trust God enough to speak for me, and I certainly didn’t trust Him enough to use a clumsy, imperfect prayer from my mouth to help my friend. Why did I feel the need to be tidy before I could sit in the grief with her? Well, the moment passed, and we moved forward. But that whisper—you’re not enough—kept ringing in my head.

That story of not-enoughness keeps coming up for me in therapy, too. Whether I’m talking about my childhood, friendships, job dreams, parenting, marriage, money, WHATEVER, the story under the story is constantly the same. You’re not enough, Mel. If you were this or had that, then you would be happy, and you would finally make others happy too. It’s kind of fascinating, actually, to look at my soul from a bird’s eye view and watch myself come to the same conclusion over and over again. Like, really… What is up with that?

Thanks to Jasper’s job at the Bible Project, his team got to hop on a Zoom call with Curt Thompson, a Psychiatrist and Author who wrote books like “Anatomy of the Soul” and “The Soul of Shame.” This man loves Jesus and understands the stories we tell ourselves so well. So when a Q&A time came up, I just had to ask the expert…

I said, “In therapy, I keep coming to the conclusion that I’m not enough, I’m not enough, I’m not enough. And as I’ve gotten older, I’ve noticed that many, if not all of us, feel the same way. So I guess I’m curious why this is such an insidious shame story, especially for those who know we are saved by grace. We know we could never do anything to earn what was freely given to us at the cross. So why is “I’m not enough” such a hard lie to shake? And what do we do about it?”

His response was so eye-opening. He said the thought “I’m not enough” and shame are not separate entities—they are one and the same. So when we feel not enough, we are simply experiencing shame. And just like it’s easier to learn how to ride a bike at age 6 than at age 36, it’s incredibly hard to unlearn a shame response that’s been ingrained in us since childhood. It’s all we’ve ever known.

He said, “Imagine a kid’s red wagon rolling towards you. You could easily stick your leg out and stop the wagon, right? Well, shame is like a train chugging towards you. And there’s no easy fix for stopping the train. Sticking your leg out will not save you anymore. The only thing that can stop the train is a bigger train. And the bigger train is our trinitarian God-With-Us and gospel community. Which is to say, you’re not responsible for changing that shame story—we are. We are riding that train, and we are fighting with you to rewrite the narrative.”

Phew. Isn’t that the most comforting thing you’ve ever heard? Hearing shame is normal, and fighting shame is a group effort led by our reigning King. That’s why we get to sing, “Shame, where is thy victory?” Because it has been defeated by Jesus forever! And as we are sanctified, we get to link arms with godly community, bring shame out of the shadows, and tend to the children in us who just wanted to belong.

On this Mother’s Day, I am more aware than ever how much women in particular hear this lie that we have to be everything to everyone. And, sisters, that lie is running us into the ground. So, in this moment, I’m saying ENOUGH to shame. Enough, punk—you will not get the final word. You will not leech the life from me and my sisters in Christ with this narrative that we’re not enough. Our train is coming for you, broski, and you don’t stand a chance against the mercy and kindness and almighty power of our King.

——

I ended up reaching out to my friend. I messaged her to confess my fears and repent of my inaction. Of course, she was gracious, and she allowed me to pray for her via text. So here’s my prayer for her, but it’s also my prayer for you and me as we battle this thing called shame. I’m so glad we get to battle it together.

Sweet Shepherd, thank you so much for my friend. For her vulnerability. For her faithful ministry. For her very raw emotions about an impossibly hard circumstance. I pause to sit in that tension with her now.

And Lord, you know I hear the same words whispered over my soul all the time—you’re not enough. You’ll never be enough. You will only ever let down the people you were called to love. My heart shares her sorrow. And I just want to stop and grieve that feeling with her.

It’s debilitating, Jesus. And I guess that’s the point. Those whispers are meant to take us out. To leave us numb to our hearts and striving for an unachievable goal. So in the face of what feels like a really big lie that she and I don’t know how to shake, I’m going to go back to the basics of the gospel.

Do You call us to “be enough?” Is that the kind of language You are even using in relation to us? Or did you send Your Son to the cross because we are physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually incapable of being enough? Is enoughness off the table completely because of the work You did on our behalf? Yeah, I think it is. I think You’re looking at us, striving and grieving our insufficiencies, and just like in the garden, you’re saying, “Who told you that you are naked? Who is speaking those words of shame over you?”

With all my heart, God, I know this to be true: YOU ARE NOT.

The enemy—crafty little jerk he is—is using our not-enoughness as a horrifically effective distraction from our actual call: intimate dependence on You. Walking in the cool of the day with You. Bringing You our joys and our grief, our belly laughs and heart-wrenching cries. Needing You for every single breath. 

You never called us to be our children’s savior. And that is a scary truth, because I would like to protect my kids from the effects of this fallen world. But that is a cross only You are strong enough to bear. So Jesus, we release the grip. With faith and shaky hands, in this moment, we release the lie that we have to be everything to everyone. We release the lie that YOU are telling us to be everyone’s hero. YOU are the Hero. You’re the only one worthy and able to hold that title.

Savior, empower us when those whispered lies come back again. Help us to verbally speak rebuke when the enemy attempts to hold court in our brains. Send him back to hell where he and his thoughts of enoughness belong. Thank You that YOU ARE ENOUGH, LORD JESUS. YOU ARE ENOUGH, AND WE DON’T HAVE TO BE. What good news that is! What a deep relief! The pressure is off, and hope is cranked up to 100, for YOU ARE OUR HOPE. YOU ARE OUR CHILDREN’S HOPE. And You love them more than we ever could.

Phew! Thank You, Lord! Help our hearts believe it to be true. That You, King Jesus, are more than enough, and as long as You reign on Your throne, we can confidently move through our lives messily and imperfectly and deeply dependent on the steady, perfect One.

We believe, Lord. Help our unbelief.

Amen.