He wiped out the handwritten record of debts with the decrees against us, which was hostile to us. He took it away by nailing it to the cross. After disarming the principalities and powers, He made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them in the cross. Colossians 2:14-15, TLV

The Note of Shame.   I was eight and had just transferred to a new school because I had been the victim of bullies at the previous school. The new pastor’s wife, Mrs. W. was my teacher. A new beginning for both of us.

So, I’ll admit, I was an odd child. Always in my head or imagination. Never quite fitting in with the other little girls. Life at the previous school was difficult for me. I tried so hard—but kids can be cruel.

Lo and behold, when I transferred to the new school, I received all sorts of positive attention as the new girl. And how did mini me handle it? Well, I got a little too big for my britches. Which is why three days into the school year, my nose was in the corner outside the classroom, and my heinie was stinging after a paddling.

Another little boy—Kevin—was collateral damage as we stood in the hall. I felt bad. Guilty for causing poor Kevin to get whacked for what I did. Scared because I was certain my mom would whack me harder and ground me forever. And my dad? How disappointed he would be. No doubt my wild imagination was in overdrive.

The Handwritten Letter

Once we returned to the classroom, we had to handwrite letters—that the teacher dictated—to our parents. My epistle went into great detail about how I had routinely been disruptive and disrespectful in class and to Mrs. W in particular. My hand shook like my knees under the desk.

In hindsight, it was a lot of disruption and disrespect for only three days of school.

The Plan

It was a long bus ride home. I didn’t sit with anyone and kept my head down. With trembling fingers, I pulled the note from my satchel and came up with a plan. A stupid plan, but I was desperate. And eight. I folded the note into a tiny square and palmed it as we exited to our bus stop.

My brothers and other children from our neighborhood walked toward home laughing and talking about their day. I lagged behind until I nonchalantly dropped the note into some shrubbery.

I exhaled as my muscles relaxed. I was free!

Until, that is, Mrs. W. called my mom and relayed my “disruptive and disrespectful behavior.” So, yes, my parents were disappointed, I got that whoopin’ and was grounded. Going back to class the next day, I was treated as a pariah—a bad girl.

Eventually, things went back to normal. Mostly, I tried to blend in as best I could.

The Discovery

A few months later, after exiting the bus our group began walking home, a boy—whom I happened to like—chased after a piece of paper blowing in the breeze. As soon as I saw the checkered fold marks my heart dropped to my stomach.

My handwritten letter of shame.

I tried grabbing it, but he was taller and held it tight as he read out loud what was left of the penciled words partially erased by rain and snow.

I was humiliated. Again. There was no empathy from the kids—especially my brothers—they laughed all the way home. Repeating my written words to anyone who might listen.

The Long Letter of Shame

So, when I came across our passage this morning, I was reminded that our “handwritten” record of debts—of sins—are indeed hostile to us. Now imagine every sin against us being recorded by the enemy of our souls. Every sin for which we deserved a double portion of humiliation and punishment.

Then imagine standing before the Creator of the Universe—our Heavenly Father—as the enemy of our soul waves that wrinkled handwritten decree. Mocking us.

But then . . .

The note disintegrates in the “accuser’s” hand. Taken by our Father’s Son, then nailed to the cross.

Not only that, but the roles then reverse. The “accuser” is now the one humiliated. Our Savior—our Messiah—makes a spectacle of him. The “handwritten note” of our sins can no longer be used by the enemy against us.

What was once a Letter of Shame, becomes a public declaration of freedom, forgiveness, and adoption in the heavenlies. There’s rejoicing for we are truly free.

Are you hiding a Letter of Shame? Hand it over to the Savior of our souls. It’s already been nailed to the cross.