Jesus saves, blah blah blah.
The thing about the Gospel, though, in a healthy Christian life, is that it leaves no stone unturned. Every experience you have winds up being brought under the bloody lens of scrutiny: was I loving? Did I act out of power, and love, and self-control, or was I acting out of fear? Am I engaging in lies or am I putting a stop to them in my thought patterns by speaking and steeping myself in truth?
I have prayed for my faith to be weapon, and God has sharpened me. It's one of those really risky ever-prayers, and I have seen it weilded well in many situations. But I forgot to deal with some other things in my closet, and I have been experiencing the very painful but necessary sanctification process.
How could I have forgotten to deal with shame by the foot of the Cross? I was foolish enough to believe that a change in scenery was the healing I needed, when in actuality I had just abandoned it on the side of the road. It got caught in the door, though. For six years, it's been caught in the door. The first thing I saw when I pulled over to enjoy the scenery was the ragged mess of my shame.
Time to put it to death. Time to deal with this mess against the message. Fortunately, the message always wins.