Welcome to Letters From Heidi, a refuge for truth seekers, deep-feelers, and the homesick searching for Eternity.
Dear friend,
In this letter, you will get a preview into a writing project that I have been working on behind the scenes. You will get insight into the heart of a Prodigal Daughter who once hid from the church in fear of cancellation and condemnation. Likewise, you will get a glimpse into how the Bible became a balm for my soul, and how God’s mercy drew me out of hiding.
Note: As this letter contains book ideas, it will be free to access for 4 weeks. From the 17th October 2024 it will go behind a paywall so if you’re not a paid subscriber, make sure to read or share this post before the month ends.
The Kingdom Didn’t Come For Daughters Like Me (Or So I Thought)
According to the Chinese Lunar Calendar, I was born in the year of the Dragon; a prized and auspicious coincidence. The only mythical creature of all twelve Zodiac signs, the Dragon is a symbol of imperial strength and power, which according to my superstitious folk, promised me a future of success and prosperity.
This was good news for my kingdom forged by refugees—fleeing homelands with bruised hearts, empty stomachs, and pockets full of dreams. For years they saved every dollar from the jobs no one wanted, allowing me to taste a world where girls could dare to dream. So, as the eldest ‘Dragon’ daughter, it was imperative that I succeeded—to earn the respect they never had; to become somebody who was seen.
As time went on, I learned that there are different types of dragons. While I strived with all my might to live up to the standards of a fire-breathing beast, I grew up feeling more like a fly on the wall - a pest to be swatted away. Too loud, too emotional, too headstrong. Not pretty enough, not smart enough, not obedient enough. Too Westernised at home, too Asian at school, no matter where I turned, my best was never enough.
The Dragon Daughter: The Birth of My Shame
Over time I began to feel less like Tolkien’s Smaug, and a little more like Mulan’s Mushu—clumsy, overlooked, size of a small lizard. I suspect this is where shame first creeped into my life—a gnawing desire of wanting to please but never reaching the mark. On the outside, I looked like a High Achiever who was ruthless to climb, when in reality, I was striving to outrun my shame, and to liberate my family of theirs.
My shame lingers in the gaps between expectation and reality; the distance between who I’m expected to be, and who I really am. It’s the belief that unless I have a trophy, the doors remain unopened; that unless I’m exceptional, I remain unloveable. My shame was birthed in my striving to meet an impossible standard; of not knowing whether I would still be prized if I showed up as just a daughter—and not a Dragon.
Over my lifetime, my shame has been a powerful incentive for striving and rebellion. As a child, my awards were the means to my father’s pride and affection. As I grew up, I yearned for love in popularity and promiscuity, leaving my heart bent and broken in the beds of strangers who never called back. At church, I hid my shame behind long skirts and eloquent prayers, and yet at times, I would still hear whispers of my unwelcome.
Bad influence. Hypocrite. Sinner.
Partying hard and laughing loud, I pretended to not care, but once I became the woman who was seen and unwanted, shame began to overpower my self-worth and betray my boundaries. It dragged me into hiding and pushed loved ones away. After all, who could possibly love the woman behind the mask? The world saw a dangerous rebel living a double life, when in reality, I was desperate for a refuge where I could be fully seen, known and loved. I was a lost daughter longing for a Father’s welcome.
“Unworthy. Unclean. Unwelcome.”
I am no stranger to such labels. Seen and known for all the wrong reasons, I once hid from God and the church behind masks and walls—my heart hardened towards any threat of cancellation or condemnation. The Kingdom didn’t come for women like me—a lie which once stopped me from approaching God, until I one day found myself weeping at Jesus’ feet, wondering if I could ever be seen, known and loved.
In my search for answers, I found my story in the pages of the Bible. Like a mirror to my innermost being, God’s word gently unveiled the truth of my humanity—revealing my shame; unmasking my secrets—but where I deserved condemnation I was clothed with compassion, and where I expected mockery, I was shielded by mercy.
Zacchaeus: The Villain Seen and Welcomed
One such story is recorded in Luke 19:1-10, the story of Zacchaeus. In Hebrew, the name ‘Zacchaeus’ means ‘clean’, and yet instead of being known for his integrity and righteousness, he chose to bear the name and shame of a tax collector - the villains and traitors of the Jewish world. I’ve often wondered if his story of rebellion and betrayal, of becoming the ‘chief’ tax collector is perhaps similar to mine?
Jesus entered Jericho and was passing through. A man was there by the name of Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was wealthy. He wanted to see who Jesus was, but because he was short he could not see over the crowd. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore-fig tree to see him, since Jesus was coming that way. - Luke 19:1-4
Short and overlooked; unseen and unheard, Zacchaeus became increasingly greedy for status and significance. He soon grasped for forbidden wealth, even if it meant defrauding his own people to build up the Roman Empire, an occupying foreign enemy. Powered by greed, little Zacchaeus reaches the top of the corporate ladder. Promoted. Chief. Seen at last. Known for all the wrong reasons; seen but shunned, he soon realised he not only made mistakes - he became one.
I have often questioned how Zacchaeus wandered so far from God, and more importantly, what made him so desperate to suddenly see Jesus when he was passing by Jericho? Perhaps his context and motives are not recorded, so that no matter who we are, we can take a moment to step into his shoes. You, me, aren’t we all at times a little bit like Zacchaeus? In a moment of weakness or smallness, we reach for forbidden fruit because we simply want to be seen and recognised?
Perhaps we slipped into a forbidden relationship, because in our loneliness, he or she made us feel wanted.
Perhaps we abandoned our families to advance our careers, because the office gives a louder applause.
Perhaps we’re hiding an addiction which gives us an escape from a life where we feel powerless and disrespected.
Perhaps we betrayed a friend’s trust to fit in with the bigger ‘in’ crowd.
Perhaps you have misused company or church funds, because after so many years of service, you feel entitled to greater recognition.
What lengths have you gone to feel enough - to feel bigger than you really are?
Since Zacchaeus was too short to see Jesus over the crowds, he climbed a tree to get a better look. With the Chief Tax Collector hanging off a tree, I can imagine the crowds scoffing with disbelief. Don’t waste your energy, Jesus won’t be seen with small guys and sinners like you. But the jury was wrong. Jesus not only sees the sinner, but he calls him by name. After a lifetime of rejection and being the small guy, Jesus saw and publicly acknowledges Zacchaeus:
When Jesus reached the spot, he looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.” So he came down at once and welcomed him gladly. (Luke 19:5–6)
Notice that Zacchaeus didn’t have to beg for Jesus’ attention or earn his way into a relationship. He didn't need an impressive resume, or a collection of awards and trophies. He didn’t have to first wash his hands, or to justify why he had failed to live up to his name. Zacchaeus knew his place and watched Jesus from a distance, but in mercy, Jesus, the seeker of sinners, drew near with a word of welcome.
Perhaps this is why Zacchaeus responded to Jesus with gladness and a promise to change. Unlike the mattering crowd who judged Jesus for his mercy, Zacchaeus knew the depth of his spiritual need. So when Jesus extended it, his greedy heart immediately pulsed with generosity, and he sought to make amends with people he had once defrauded. Zacchaeus didn’t take advantage of mercy, rather, he treasured the Lord’s lavish welcome, with repentance and gladness of heart.
Jesus A Seeker of Sinners
While we can commend Zacchaeus for his earnest seeking of Jesus, the real seeker in this story is Jesus the Son of Man, who came into our world “to seek and save the lost” (Luke 19:10). What makes Jesus’ seeking and saving of sinners so incredible is that he sees all things without exception. While it’s human nature to try and blot out our shame behind masks and walls, filters and good works; what is invisible to man is completely visible to God.
His divine eye can pierce bone and marrow and access every nook and cranny of our mind, heart, and souls. Jesus sees our greatest fears and deepest shame - the man and woman we hide behind closed doors. He sees our hypocrisies, inconsistencies, and ungodly motives. He sees yesterday’s sin, today’s rebellion, and tomorrow’s downfall. Jesus sees our shame in its entirety, and yet he initiates salvation knowing it would one day cost him his very life to shoulder our shame on the cross.
This means that Jesus’ initiative towards Zacchaeus is not merely a superficial display of charity towards a watching crowd. Jesus was not naive nor deluded. Jesus knew exactly who Zacchaeus was and yet even before he had a chance to right his wrongs, Jesus extended the gift of welcome and acceptance. The chief of sinners; once vilified and excluded, is not only seen and recognised—he’s welcomed home as a son, “Today salvation has come to this house, because this man, too, is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost” (Luke 19:9-10).
A Kingdom of Mercy: Seen, Known, Loved
Have you, like Zacchaeus, ever felt so small and rejected, that you found yourself grasping at the world for significance and recognition? Have you ever begun a work with good intentions, only to find yourself crossing lines for personal ambition? Have you loved an idol so much that you were willing to betray your loved ones to keep it? Have you committed a sin so grave that you are now vilified and excluded from God’s people and become a ‘chief’ of sinners?
Friend, you’re in good company. The Kingdom of Mercy came for you. Trust that Jesus sees you completely, and yet he’s not ashamed of you. Have faith that there is nothing you have done that could possibly shock or overwhelm him, and Jesus will never reject a humble and seeking heart. On days where your shame threatens to drag you back into hiding, let these promises of Jesus be an anchor for your soul: “...anyone who believes in him [Jesus] will never be put to shame” (Romans 10:11). In Jesus, you are fully seen, known and loved.
Mercy is knocking.
You only need to welcome Him in with gladness.
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Warm & Fuzzies!
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Heidi, thank you for taking the time to write out your experience and be vulnerable. The love of God is not limited to those who “do all the right things”. He came for those who needed Him most. We all have one gigantic need – the need of a savior. Thank you again for sharing your thoughts!
Heidi, I wept as I read your impasssioned piece. I am a fellow former Prodigal, who ran from God and His Son for 35 years, felled by grief and anger. I stumbled back in 2002 but I have never measured up to society demands, no success, no influence, no wealth. I have simply been a...survivor. Street smart, gnarly, a deep empath, a sensitive soul, I have felt flattened by this world and long for Home. At nearly 72, I will be there soon enough. Substack is a profound place for us to share our hearts, our wounds, our experiences. I so appreciate you digging deep into your life and sharing with the world, what you went through. I will read this again, for so much depth. We have some kindred spirits here, even from our different cultures and backgrounds. God is the connecting force. God bless and keep you, Wendy