For most of my life, salvation meant one very specific thing.
And while I will not claim authority on the topic at hand, I do believe God recently showed me something new about Herself that is worth sharing.
I am under no illusion that I am able to speak to this recent revelation by my own cleverness or intention.
In fact, I believe myself to have ended up here despite them.
If I had it my way, the organization I tried to start would be thriving, all intimate friendships would still be intact, and my public image would not be stained with failure.
That was plan A, and it was a good one.
But I didn’t have it my way, and that drastically changed my understanding of salvation, which I know you hear all the time.
I used to be saved, certainly and finally, but then things went to hell.
Beginning in the spring of 2023, I was humiliated when I gave everything I had to an organization I was starting, and then, I failed miserably and publicly.
This loss was the beginning of a new season. I grieved the death of a dream that sustained me for years, and I endured a betrayal so great that I wasn’t sure who I was anymore.
At the time, it was so dark that I didn’t know if I’d find my way back.
I’d learned from my family of origin that the best response to pain is to avoid or deny it altogether, but that hadn’t worked for me in the past, and my therapist strongly advised against it.
Begrudgingly, I took an alternate path. What is the opposite reaction of avoidance and denial?
Presence & processing.
So for about a year and a half, I did that. I gave humiliation, suffering, and betrayal nothing but my full attention. It was as fun as it sounds.
I cancelled what I could and uncommitted from everything I had going on so that I could be utterly present with the process. It helped that I was too ashamed of my failure most days to reach out to anyone.
I stayed home with two babies, present for them and that experience alone, and I allowed only a few of my most trusted friends into my hiding place.
I read almost thirty books during that season. Some were fiction, but most of them were from spiritual teachers from a variety of religions. And in all of my reading, there was one unified message that shouted at me again and again:
Allow the suffering to bury you, and you will be reborn.
Stay on the cross, and resurrection will come.
Allow yourself to be humbled in your humiliation, learn from your betrayal, grieve everything that was lost wholeheartedly, and time and presence will give way to healing and redemption.
In the middle of this process, you cannot feel the miracle that’s occurring.
Some days, you have to dig into your past to understand what’s going on inside of you. On other days, the future is too heavy to imagine.
And then there are the days when you don’t feel anything at all. But if you trust the process, it will come. So I did.
And by the grace of God, I was saved.
Saved from my ego that was exposed during my humiliation, from the person I needed people to believe that I was.
Saved from my attachment to a dream that would make me good and worthy of love.
Saved from my need to hold every relationship together, despite a lack of mutuality and trust, to try to protect myself from loneliness and invisibility.
This salvation was not something that I earned or executed, it was not a prayer I said or a ritual I did.
It was a gift.
I used to be saved when salvation was diminished to a get-out-of-hell-free card. I was born in the right place at the right time to say the right prayer and belong to the right religion.
But salvation isn’t a prayer or set of beliefs, salvation is more than a baptism or liturgy.
Salvation comes when we are at the end of ourselves and trust God to do what only God can do, and I believe it is a process we surrender to over and over again.
In the face of my failure, I could have tried harder, but I gave up.
In grief, I could have held on, but I chose to let go.
In betrayal, I could have fought back and had a vengeance so sweet that it took me months to finally decide against it, but I released the need to have the power or the upper hand.
Surrender and powerlessness are key themes in the scriptures, but in a culture of achievement and self-reliance, they’re often glossed over or avoided entirely.
And yet, we’re taught they’re essential to salvation.
I didn’t do anything while God was at work in me, I surrendered and allowed everything to unfold as it was meant to, and God met me there.
“When I am weak, then I am strong.”
Salvation asked the parts of me to die that were attached to my ego over my soul, the parts that believed I knew anything at all, the parts that were superior or right, the parts that self-protected and believed I could do any of this alone.
All of it had to die, I couldn’t trust in my own understanding anymore.
“It is by grace you have been saved, through faith, not by works, so that no one can boast.”
I used to be saved, but now I see that salvation is something that happens to us when we are faithful to make space for the grace only God can give.
And when you live a wealthy, comfortable life like most Americans do, and everything goes well for you for the most part, it is hard to be saved.
Some might say it’s as hard as a camel going through the eye of a needle, which is a weird thing to propose in the modern world, but it still hits.
Salvation has nothing to do with what you do or say. Faith is not an association with the correct belief system.
When we give up our assurance that our effort or willpower are enough, we are saved from the illusion of control.
When we give up the arrogance of casting the right vote or sending others to hell, we are saved from the seduction of judgment and superiority.
When we give up the belief that anything outside of God can heal the parts of us that are hurting, we are saved from the idea that we can do any of this alone.
This is how we choose faith over self-reliance, and faith is what saves us.
I’ve learned that faith is God’s love working through me that allows me to love the ones who hurt me, to continue dreaming and trying despite the fear of failure, to see my own brokenness, not as a problem to solve, but as an opportunity for redemption. My weakness is my strength, after all.
What does it mean to be saved?
To know there is not a single thing I’ve done that has earned me the love of God or intimacy with Him.
To trust that the answer I’m looking for is always outside of my own strength, ego, and self-reliance.
To surrender to the transformation, a painful process that is ultimately the gift.
The gift of salvation.