The Little Girl Who Couldn't Raise Her Hand

The other day I was praying in a group, and something unusual happened.

I felt insecure.

That caught my attention because prayer has never really been an area where I struggled.

I’ve had people tell me they were intimidated to pray with me because I pray with authority.

But this time was different.

I was grieving.

I was hurting.

I felt fragile.

And afterward, I found myself comparing.

Comparing my weakness to someone else’s strength.

Comparing my suffering to someone else’s victory.

Comparing what I felt in that moment to what I thought prayer was supposed to sound like.

As I sat with it, I realized something.

The word wasn’t really insecurity.

The word was embarrassment.

I felt embarrassed.

Embarrassed that I sounded weak.

Embarrassed that I was vulnerable.

Embarrassed about what people might think.

That feeling bothered me enough that I began praying about it.

“Lord, where is this coming from?”

As I sat with Him, a memory came back that I hadn’t thought about in years.

I was a little girl at Christmas time in school. Everyone brought gifts. They were numbered, and everyone was given a number. My number was called, but I was too shy to respond.

I wanted the gift.

I just sat there quietly while everyone else received theirs.

At the end of the exchange, there was still a gift left, and my teacher couldn’t figure out who it belonged to.

I still didn’t raise my hand.

Finally, after class was over, I worked up enough courage to go to the teacher.

I timidly said, “I didn’t get my present.”

By then, the person who brought the gift had already taken it back.

My teacher went through her personal belongings and found a gently used bottle of perfume to give me.

I never told my mom or many about that story.

But I think about it every so often.

Not because of the gift.

Because of what it reveals.

Nobody was trying to leave me out.

Nobody was rejecting me.

My name had already been called.

The gift was already mine.

I just didn’t respond because I was embarrassed.

As I thought about it, another story came to mind.

God walking through the garden asking Adam, “Who told thee that thou wast naked?”

What a question.

Who told you that?

When did you begin believing something God never said?

As I sat with the Lord, I found myself asking a different question.

Why did embarrassment have so much power?

Why did it have enough power to keep a little girl in her seat?

Why did it have enough power to follow her into a prayer meeting decades later?

The beautiful thing is that God is patient.

He has a way of taking us back to those places, not to shame us, but to heal us.

To show us what was true all along.

The little girl was afraid.

But she isn’t alone anymore.

She has help now.

The Holy Spirit lives within her.

The same Spirit that comforts, teaches, strengthens, and reminds her of what is true.

Because God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind. 2 Tim 1:7

The little girl who was too embarrassed to raise her hand now has the Spirit of God living within her.

And He is greater than fear.

Greater than insecurity.

Greater than timidity.

Greater than embarrassment.

The gift is still hers.

And now, when fear tells her to stay hidden, she has a Helper who reminds her who she is.

Healing looks like finally raising her hand.

Not because fear never existed.

But because the Holy Spirit is greater.

*****

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