“Imagine yourself a living house,” C.S. Lewis wrote. “God comes in to rebuild that house.” 

Then “...he starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense.”¹

The Last Room at the End of the Hall

A couple of years ago I had an experience with Jesus that left me bewildered. And free. 

It was morning, and I sat in my spot by the window, in the last room at the end of the hall, going through my morning routine.

After fifteen minutes or so of praying, I felt it—some tension deep below the surface. It was a feeling, almost like dread, that I couldn’t quite name.

“What is this, Lord? Did something happen to me and I’ve forgotten?”

That was the feeling.

Then the prayer slipped out, an exhale of surrender. “Holy Spirit, you know. Search me. Show me.”

Suddenly I “saw” a scene, like someone pushing play on a movie in my imagination, of Jesus walking with me down the hallway of my childhood home, to the last door at the end of the hall, where my room was.

That room is a mixed bag of memory and emotion, some good, some bad. In this time with Jesus, a particular memory came to mind—a memory I had buried, hoping to forget. I suddenly remembered.

We came to the room, looked in, and I saw my ten-year-old self laying on the bed. It all came rushing back: I was afraid, terrified really, paralyzed by fear. I had struggled with night terrors, and my ten-year-old self could not cope. My young, innocent mind would spiral into a fear so real, so rational, and so final. I remember feeling completely helpless, overwhelmed, and alone.

“Why are we here, Jesus?”

“To rescue you.”

A Living House

Imagine you are a living house. Your heart has many rooms. It’s vast. And each room has a story, memories from all the moments of your life. Most of these memories are from actual rooms. What happened in those rooms shaped you.

Bedrooms, living rooms, kitchens, hospital rooms, classrooms, courtrooms…they all have a story.

Sometimes the story, as we remember it, is something we want to forget and never think about again, hoping time will do what it does in the wilderness of our souls, and cover the memory with sand. 

Sometimes it is something we cherish too much, and we don’t want to leave the room.

And some part of us gets stuck there, the door kept closed and barred shut. We believe we can live without it, that it’s best to keep out of the way so we can get on with life.

Whatever the case, the room itself, the memory, is not what keeps us stuck. It is the story we tell ourselves about what happened. 

The problem? The story we believe is not always the true story, even if we get the facts right.

Exposing the Story that Shame is Telling

Jesus is the author and finisher of our faith (Hebrews 12:2). Yes, every room has a story, and for all the rooms we keep behind closed doors, the most likely story you believe is one authored by shame. That’s why the door stays closed.

Shame tells you to keep it shut, that it’s better the story is not known, that the “you” that is in the room should not be seen.

When I was tormented by fear, I felt so hopelessly alone, and shame was quick to interpret the story, to convince me that I was indeed alone. The real fear was that shame was right, and I kept the door shut as a form of denial. The problem? That part of me was still stuck there in that room, yet still somehow informing the story I was living many years later as an adult.

When Jesus is allowed into the room, shame flees. Then Jesus, as the Author, gets to reveal to you the true story. You are not alone. You do not have to stay hidden. He can handle you, even the broken, “worst” you that lives in the most hidden room in your heart.

Then Jesus, surprisingly, begins to renovate that room, and make something beautiful of it. 

Sin No More. Live Your True Story.

John 5:1–15 (ESV) tells the story of a lame man whom Jesus healed on the Sabbath. The exchange is notable:

“Do you want to be healed?” (verse 6).

“Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and while I am going another steps down before me” (verse 7).

The lame man responds as though Jesus had asked, Why aren’t you healed yet? Don’t you know how the pool works? What’s wrong with you? 

Jesus knew he had been there a long time. If you live in a place of shame, the question is harsh. But Jesus’s question was deeply genuine. He was appealing to, searching for, awakening the man’s desire, something that had been buried for many years under the weight of deferred hope and disappointment. 

Jesus was not appealing to the man’s logic. He was after the man’s heart.

This man’s disability was a source of deep shame—thirty-eight years of it. Jesus meets him there, calls out the true man who was hidden away in a forgotten room of the heart, shame his only companion for those many years. He tells him to get up, take up his bed, and walk. 

However, the most interesting exchange happens later, when Jesus finds the man in the temple. 

“Afterward Jesus found him in the temple and said to him, ‘See, you are well! Sin no more, that nothing worse may happen to you’” (verse 14).

Sin no more. The real miracle that took place was that Jesus had freed the man from shame. 

Sin is believing shame and living accordingly. And the way you experience freedom from sin is to repent: to stop living the story shame is authoring, and instead live the story Jesus is authoring—the true story of your life. This means the story of shame needs to be exposed. That’s why confession is often necessary. 

Confession, then, is really about telling the story of sin and exposing the story of shame and its fruit. Yes, it can be incredibly difficult depending upon how deeply shame is embedded. But in confession the story is brought into the light so that it can be separated from shame. That happens, as we see with Jesus, through deep kindness, radical acceptance, undeserved mercy, and genuine love in the deepest place of brokenness and sin.

As believers, we must embody what Jesus exemplified. We must image Jesus to others in such a way that they are willing to risk telling the story. Shame is very convincing in its main argument against confession: They can’t handle the story. They will be disgusted. They will reject you. You will be alone.

But confession lets Jesus into the room. And shame cannot stay in a room where Jesus is Lord.

Shame, then, no longer gets to interpret the story. If you let Him, Jesus will reveal to you the story He has written about you, about the room. 

And He only writes true stories.

He is Building a Palace

C.S. Lewis finished his “living house” idea with this: “You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.”1

Shame attempts to persuade you to live alone, safe from “exposure.” But Jesus will not have it. In His kindness, He will find every room, come to every door, and knock. Will you answer? Will you invite Him in?

Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.

— Revelation 3:20.

Sources:

1. Lewis, C. S. Mere Christianity. 
   

Additional Resources for Living Free in Christ:

• Free From Shame Bible Study(alt text: Free from Shame | TDGC)

• Come and See | A Study on the Gospel of John(alt text: John Study | TDGC)

• What It Looks Like to Live Free from Shame(alt text: What It Looks Like to Live Free from Shame | TDGC)

• The Story of Redemption Bible Study(alt text: Story of Redemption | TDGC)