The Voices of Romans 8

I hear voices.

But I think I found better cure than Zyprexa this Sunday morning in church.

I've heard the voices for years. I first remember them when I walked through the doors of junior high school with my braces and glasses. They continued into high school and seemed to speak the loudest before climbing the ladder of the diving board at meets. They followed me to college and rained from the loudspeaker in my mind as I rode into the arena for equestrian team try outs. They came with me on dates. And they screamed at me in medical school.

"You're worthless. You don't belong here. They'll find you out soon enough."

I don't think I notice them as much as I once did, but they still speak.

They speak at the entrance to the ICU as I flash my badge over the security scanner. Or when a patient returns from a surgery I cleared them for with a medical complication. "You're just fooling anyone who thinks you're a good doctor. They're figuring it out, though."

When I sit to down to write my new manuscript. "No one will want to read this. Your crit partners are just too nice to be honest."

When despite my attempts at picking up the house, shoes and water glasses accumulate. "I'm a terrible wife. My husband does all the cleaning. Remember the party at that other doctor's house? His wife keeps it perfect. You're lucky to wash out your bowl at breakfast."

At the start of long bike rides. "You're going to make such a fool of yourself on this hill."

When teaching a riding lesson. "You have no idea what you're talking about. You can't ride yourself!"

Watching Corrinne at dance. "The other moms all know each other. They don't know you because you're not here every week. You're at work."

And even at church. "Look at all these amazing women. They're kids look perfect. They're in Bible studies and serve in the nursery. You don't even make it to church every week! What kind of pastor's wife are you? You don't even play the piano!"

Ever hear voices? I do. They're not audible. But thoughts echo longer than words.

I find solace from Paul. In the sermon today, Pastor Willie called him one of the "top five Christians in history." I'll agree with that. But Paul stated in Romans 7, "What a wretched man I am!" If you look up "wretched" in MS Word's thesaurus, you get "shameful, vile, worthless, base, despicable, inferior."

It hit me in the sermon today. Paul -- who loved the same God I love -- but who accomplished more through Christ than I can ever dream of -- heard the same voices I do.

And they didn't have Zyprexa in the first century. They had something better. And we still do today.

In Romans 8, Paul writes, "Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." Condemnation? The first definition in the dictionary defines condemn as, "To make a judicial pronouncement stating what punishment has been imposed on a person found guilty of a crime, especially in the case of a heavy penalty or a death sentence." Jesus took away our guilt. I'm a pastor's wife. I get basic theology. I know this. He died so we could have eternal life with God. My three year old can recite that, even though she has no idea what it means.

But do I understand it any better than she?

Farther down the page, another definition pierced me. To condemn is "To state that somebody or something is in some way wrong or unacceptable."

I've heard that before. So, apparently, did Paul. And that's why he knew we all needed to hear Romans 8:1.

I love MS Word's thesaurus. It gives antonyms, too. The antonym of wretched? Noble. Like a king - or the child of one. Paul writes in Colossians that God "has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the kingdom of light."

No more condemnation. Instead of being wretched, we inherit nobility from our Father the King.

So maybe the next time I hear those voices say, "You're worthless," I'll close my eyes and imagine walking into the light of a great royal court. And I'll answer, "Be silent. I'm the princess, and my daddy says you're wrong."