Shalom, no room for shame. (May Downloads)
For hellos and goodbyes and all the 'on earth as it is in heaven' days in between... (two prints & lock screens for you)
In the middle of the week…
At the end of the month…
In the blurry in between of one season fading into the next…
Amidst goodbyes and hellos, fresh starts and teary eyes…
Here, too, in the unknown…
Shalom.
Sometimes subtle but always a sure thing, ever-present even when we don’t feel it, right there at the center of the Story and the Kingdom.
Shalom, shalom, shalom.
A full month has passed since the lyrics played through the car speakers, my mouth singing one single line on repeat again and again and again and again until I made it home, put the car in park, and reached for my phone to google the rest of the song. Four weeks have gone by and just as many big decisions have loomed large over these days, yet I keep returning to one word—one specific word written down that Monday afternoon, there in the middle of a post of in-process thoughts.
Posted on the All The Things Instagram account:
“I heard shame told you a story that you can’t escape your past…” - Ben Fuller, But the Cross lyrics
There are plenty of quotes from our April book, Tell Me the Dream Again, that I could share here on the feed. I put several in Stories today, but this is the one I’ve continued to come back to and just—sit with. Reflect on. Wonder. Consider. Like I’m picturing the word ‘shame’ in my left hand and ‘shalom’ in my right, staring at how similar the words appear while recognizing the great chasm between.
Shame entered the story in the Garden, but one day, at the end that is also a beginning, it will cease to exist. Can you even imagine? Just—absolutely no shame? Instead: full, complete, forever and eternal shalom.
The Kingdom Come Down… Coming ever closer, even now.
I have no big take-away, just Tasha’s quote + a song lyric that played on the radio today + in-process thoughts on how shame and shalom look similar and yet they don’t—can’t—go together at all. Maybe next time shame shows up and whispers, tries to get a word in or set a weight down on our shoulders… maybe we can instead say “Hi, yes I see you there. I feel your presence, but I’m turning my attention elsewhere. You don’t get to say a single word about my past because you are what belongs in the past. For today, and one day forever. There’s a countdown clock on your existence and I’m looking toward shalom.”
A glimpse for now. A taste of what will be. “Shalom, shalom” as they often said and still say as a greeting or farewell… peace, peace I leave with you, Jesus said. Peace as you arrive and peace as you go. Shalom, no room for shame.
On Sunday mornings, after the first song, we “pass the peace.” It might look like worship is paused for a minute or two (or, occasionally, five, because sometimes it goes on for a while as voices rise and conversations stretch further), but really it’s a continuation. A practice that goes back many, many years, each person turns to someone nearby. One will say “peace of Christ”, often while extending a hand or leaning to hug a familiar friend, and the other responds “and also with you.”
Peace of Christ…
and also with you…
Repeat, repeat, repeat.
We pass peace along, gently and generously offering what we’ve been given to whoever happens to be nearby, neighbor or best friend, stranger or spouse, the person we’re annoyed by or someone visiting for the first time. Everyone, all of us, echoing the familiar refrain, speaking shalom over one another.
At the end of each service, we say the benediction I now know by heart, lines I could repeat anywhere at the drop of a hat, words I whisper aloud on the Sundays I’m out of town.
Shalom at the start and a blessing at the end… I thought of this weekly rhythm as I read these words from Emily P. Freeman in her latest book, How to Walk Into a Room:
“In Hebrew scripture, the word translated into English as peace is “shalom.” It means to make restitution and to restore. It also implies an overall sense of wholeness or completeness, to be full of well-being. This is the kind of peace we long for, the kind that is an outcome of being deeply okay, not necessarily because all is well without but because all is well within. This is an inner kind of peace, an inner knowing and receiving peace with God and a desire to impart peace in the world. If you travel to Israel today, you may hear “shalom” as both a word of greeting when you enter and as a blessing when you leave. “Shalom,” holding both blessing and benediction, a word to meet us as we cross over thresholds; peace as we enter in and as we walk out, a greeting and a farewell. May it be so, within us, around us, and among us.”
A blessing and a benediction…
A greeting and a goodbye…
Shalom, shalom, shalom.
As I designed the May print, I attempted to create something subtle yet striking, simple yet speaking to a larger story. The ‘creases’ are there on purpose, a visual reminder that even in the blur or the mess, the worries or the frustration, as we pray on earth as it is in heaven while living our already-but-not-yet days very much still here on this broken, beautiful earth, shalom remains.
Peace, in the middle of it all. Peace, always at the center. Because the Prince of Peace is the Author of the Story, and (thank God for God) we don’t have to wait until Then to have glimpse of it Now.
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. (John 14:27)1
Peace as you arrive and peace as you go. Shalom, no room for shame.
Prints:
As a ‘start of summer’ extra gift → I made two designs, one with the letters of shalom interlocking and one straight across. Personally, I’m a sucker for a message within a message, so the in-between-ness of the first is my favorite… but I know a few of you will prefer the simplicity of the second, and so with you in mind, I’m happy to offer both! 💛