The Wrong Kind of Shame
Last night I couldn’t sleep.
I have no idea why.
There’s no big crisis going on at the moment in my life.
Well – except for the fact that in the last seven weeks or so the entire world has changed and most daily routines have been disrupted, due to COVID-19. I forgot about that for a minute.
At nearly 60 years old, I’ve learned that my body has become sensitive and reacts in different ways to things I eat. Too many carbs last night at dinner? Am I fretting about work responsibilities? Shouldn’t be. Everything’s ok.
As I sat down to spend time with God this morning, I knew that I was feeling shame (don’t laugh, please) one, because I failed to sleep well last night, and secondly, because I have no idea why. I have a sensitive immune system and sleep is important, particularly so now, when we’re all trying to be as healthy as possible in the face of this pandemic. Last night I failed somehow to safeguard a basic aspect of my own self-care. And I don’t have a clue why. What’s wrong with me?
There’s a perfect example of inappropriate shame.
V. Lefler, K. Heinen and J. Lefler explain in their book, “Spiritual Discovery,” that there are two kinds of shame.
1) Not meeting God’s standards: The shame we experience when we sin…..
2) Not meeting man’s standards: The shame we experience when we fail to meet our own standards, or the contempt people show when we don’t meet their standards….
Shame is an appropriate feeling if we have sinned.1
It wasn’t me!
I know I need to come to God for an attitude adjustment. This is ridiculous. I don’t believe my restless sleep last night is due to deliberate sin on my part. I am, I believe, still suffering from some of the unfortunate patterns that were reinforced – for lots of different reasons – in my childhood and youth. I am “naturally” inclined to be hyper-self-focused when something’s not quite right. Is it my fault? Did I mess up? When my kids were growing up at home, whenever a mishap occurred – someone lost keys, lost a phone, we discovered a broken glass, the printer refused to work – all heads turned toward me in unison, waiting, because they knew Mom would immediately blurt out, “It wasn’t me!” Except when it came to losing keys or a new dent in the car – that usually was me.
18 While he was saying this, a synagogue leader came and knelt before him and said, “My daughter has just died. But come and put your hand on her, and she will live.” 19 Jesus got up and went with him, and so did his disciples.
20 Just then a woman who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years came up behind him and touched the edge of his cloak. 21 She said to herself, “If I only touch his cloak, I will be healed.”
22 Jesus turned and saw her. “Take heart, daughter,” he said, “your faith has healed you.” And the woman was healed at that moment.
Matthew 9:18-22 New International Version (NIV)
Thank you, Jesus. You were on your way to save a life for an important, famous, wealthy man, with lots of other people involved in your plans. You turned, you stopped, you interrupted everything, to pay attention to, and take care of a sick, poor, unclean, unknown woman.
I am reminded of Hagar, (Genesis 16:13), the suffering woman who called you “The One Who Sees Me.” You see me. Thank you!
“Take heart, daughter.” – Jesus’s words to the woman he stopped for.
My heart sings!
“Your faith has healed you.”
Uh-oh. Now I am worried that I don’t have faith enough. What if I don’t? What do I need to know or do that I don’t know or have failed to do? Will you now turn away and leave me to fend for myself?
Deep breath.
I stop that line of thinking and choose to turn my thoughts to gratitude.
Thank you, God: all she had to do was to come up to you and touch the edge of your cloak.
That’s all.
That I can do.
That I will willingly, happily, rush to do.
It feels too hard to talk to God
I’m reminded of a conversation I had with a woman friend of mine yesterday, who couldn’t do that at the moment. She is so disappointed by the circumstances of her life right now, overwhelmed by grief and losses that have accumulated, that she cannot reach out and pray. She was willing to listen as I prayed for us both. That’s a start. Father, please go to her and heal her heart. Please give her strength to reach out and touch the hem of your garment. Please go to her and heal her.
We had talked about Hebrews 4:15-16, that You, Lord Jesus -- Brother, Savior – are able to empathize with everything and anything we may ever feel. You have been tempted in every way, just as we are. She objected, saying that you didn’t grow up with alcoholic parents. You didn’t endure traumatic abuse in early childhood as she did, at the hands of her parents.
I believe she’s right about that. And I believe your Word is still true. You are able to empathize with everything and anything she has ever felt and ever will feel. When God didn’t rescue you on the cross (Mark 15:34), didn’t answer your cry, gave no evidence of caring at that moment – I believe with all my heart he suffered with you, he was present with you, he stayed the course, as you did, in agony, and remained faithful – to you, to His own Word and His covenant, to His love for each and every one of us, and to you.
There was no wrongdoing on Jesus’s part, no wrongdoing on God’s part, and yet there was agony, tragedy, unspeakable suffering. Jesus bore disgrace, and, like Job, did not accuse you of evil motives. (Heb 13:13, Job 1:22). What an example for us. Thank you.
Hebrews 12:2 Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame…”
Thank you, Father. Help me fix my eyes on Jesus. Thank you that HE is the author and perfecter of my faith. I need only to come to you and reach out. I will trust and rely on the love you have for me (1 John 1:4:6) for the rest of the day. I will deliberately choose to look at Jesus and not at myself or my uneven performance for reassurance, direction and comfort –minute by minute, and hour by hour, if that’s what it takes. Thank you. I love you. AMEN.
1 V. Lefler, K. Heinen, J. Lefler, Spiritual Discovery, 7 Principles for Spiritual Growth, Second Edition (Silverday Press, n.d.) 58-59.