Showing posts with label Shame. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shame. Show all posts

Friday, March 29, 2024

Shame Interrupted

Every few years I reread Ed Welch’s book Shame Interrupted. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the feeling of never measuring up, which started early in life. This poem was the result of my ponderings.

***

The voices in my head tell me I don’t belong,
I’m not wanted,
     not welcome,
           not good enough.
I don’t look right,
     act right,
          feel right,
                talk right.
I still hear the whispers behind my back,
Taunts and jibes,
     trying to provoke a reaction.
I won’t let them know how it hurts,
     keep my head down,
Pretend I don’t hear them, I don’t care.
One day soon I’ll leave them behind,
     go to better places.

But the voices still follow me, still echo in my head.
I wasn’t invited,
      I’m not wanted,
             they don’t care.
There is One Voice I trust, One who never fails,
One Who says,
      “I hear,
             I know,
                   I love you.”
He too experienced shame,
Crucified, naked, taunted,
     “If you are the Christ!”
              “Save yourself!”
He endured the cross, despising the shame,
For us, for me.

There are some who speak His words,
     but they too forget,
They don’t hear the voices in my head.
They are dealing with voices of their own.
But God remains,
     interrupting shame,
Reminding me,
       “You are My beloved child.”

“Bearing shame and scoffing rude,
In my place condemned He stood,
Sealed my pardon with His blood,
      Hallelujah, what a Savior!”

“For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’” (Rom. 8:15).


© 2024 Dawn Rutan. Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture are ESV and all images copyright free from pixabay.com. The opinions stated do not necessarily reflect the views of my church or employer.

Saturday, January 21, 2023

Clothed

In that first garden, long ago,
Our parents walked with You unclothed.
They were sinless and unashamed
To see and to be seen and known.

Into the garden the tempter came,
Sin brought with it all its shame.
Fig leaves were not clothes enough,
Hiding when you called their names.

The tree of knowledge with it brought
Death to all who knowledge sought.
You found them there, and sent them out,
Clothed in the death their sins had bought.

Another parent, another day,
In the manger gently lay
Her sleeping boy, snugly wrapped,
In swaddling clothes upon the hay.

He grew to face another tree
On the mount of Gethsemane,
Naked hung in our sin and shame,
Unclothed for all humanity.

One day soon will come to sight,
Our Savior returning in robes of white,
Clothed in His righteousness we’ll be,
To dwell in His eternal light.

May we seek to live as those
Who will be in perfection robed,
Free from every sin and shame,
Bowing now before His throne.

“I will greatly rejoice in the Lord; my soul shall exult in my God, for He has clothed me with the garments of salvation; He has covered me with the robe of righteousness: (Isaiah 61:10a).

 


© 2023 Dawn Rutan. Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture are ESV and all images copyright free from pixabay.com. The opinions stated do not necessarily reflect the views of my church or employer.

Saturday, July 9, 2022

Remember This

In a recent episode of the Russell Moore podcast he interviewed Scott Sauls, who shared about a time he was out for a walk and heard himself say aloud, “You suck.” As he reflected on what had led to that declaration, he realized he was remembering something he had done in high school that hurt a friend, and for which he had apologized repeatedly. His experience of self-condemnation for past actions is probably one that many of us can relate to.

The Apostle Paul gives us an interesting panorama of human experience. On one hand he makes statements like this:

“I thank Him who has given me strength, Christ Jesus our Lord, because He judged me faithful, appointing me to His service, though formerly I was a blasphemer, persecutor, and insolent opponent. But I received mercy… Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost” (1 Tim. 1:12-13, 15).

But he also says:

“…forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 3:13-14).

But what exactly is it he says he is forgetting? The first part of Philippians 3 is the recitation of his Jewish “pedigree” as one who can claim “as to righteousness under the law [I was] blameless” (v. 6). It was stuff that most of the people who knew him would consider admirable. When you compare Philippians with 1 Timothy, Paul doesn’t really seem to be saying, “Just forget everything about your past and live in the present.” I’m coming to understand it more as “Remember your past but keep it in proper perspective.” That fits better with his statements in Ephesians:

“Therefore remember that at one time you Gentiles in the flesh… remember that you were at that time separated from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers to the covenants of promised, having no hope and without God in the world” (Eph. 2:11-12).

When we consider the past, there are several things we need to remember:

1) Apart from Christ, any good that we have done or accomplishments we’ve achieved are likely to be tied to pride and self-righteousness. Therefore we need to remember that our good works cannot save us and are in fact nothing compared to Christ’s perfection.

2) If we are now Christians, any sin that we have committed (past or present) is forgiven and covered by Jesus’ death on our behalf. Therefore we can remember that we are loved, accepted, and free from condemnation.

3) God uses our sin and weakness to remind us of our need for Him. He uses all things for the good of conforming us to the image of Christ (Rom. 8:28-29), and in our weakness His grace becomes evident so that He gets the glory and not us (2 Cor. 12:9).

I often remind myself of Romans 8:1: “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” However, I don’t always remember that it follows after Paul’s description in Romans 7 of the struggle:

“So I find it to be a law that when I want to do right, evil lies close at hand. For I delight in the law of God in my inner being, but I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from his body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, I myself serve the law of God with my mind, but with my flesh I serve the law of sin” (7:21-25).

Theologians disagree as to whether this is referring to one’s experience before conversion or after conversion. (I agree with John Piper that it is post-conversion.) However, I think the greater point is that only in Christ can we find freedom from condemnation. It takes a lifetime of learning and growth to “put on the new self” (Eph. 4:24) and to “walk as children of light” (Eph. 5:8). In the meantime, shame and guilt will continue to rear up in us—from painful memories, from the influence of the world, or from the accusations of the devil. When they do, we can cling to the truth that our sins are forgiven and God still loves us. “For I will be merciful toward their iniquities, and I will remember their sins no more” (Heb. 8:12 quoted from Jer. 31:34). His love will never fail.

“My soul continually remembers it and is bowed down within me. But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness” (Lam. 3:20-23).


© 2022 Dawn Rutan. Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture are ESV and all images are copyright free from pixabay.com. The opinions stated do not necessarily reflect the views of my church or employer.

Saturday, November 12, 2016

Unseen and Seen

Her heart was pounding as she looked at the crowd in front of her. What she was about to do was by far the most terrifying thing she’d ever done. Harder than twelve years of calling out “Unclean!” as people walked by. Harder than twelve years of explaining her problem to doctors just to have them shake their head instead of providing a cure. Harder than twelve years of being banned from the Temple and isolated from her family. Her shame was a heavy burden, but her desperation was greater. She hid her face and slipped into the crowd, hoping that no one would recognize her and point her out. “If I can just touch the Healer’s garment...” Desperation drove her forward when fear tried to hold her back. Her hand slipped between two men and brushed the fringe of His cloak. She knew immediately it had worked and she quickly started to move away, but the Healer had noticed. He stopped and looked around, asking who had touched Him. His eyes met hers and she fell at His feet as the shame of twelve years crushed her to the ground. She started babbling an explanation, but she wasn’t even sure if the words were coming out. All she could hear was the pounding of her heart. “Daughter...” What did He say? “My daughter, lift up your head. Look at Me.” He reached down and grasped her hands, the first person to touch her in twelve years. As He drew her to her feet, she looked into His eyes and saw no condemnation, only love. Twelve years of shame and fear, pain and weakness, all fell away in that moment. “Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace and be healed of your disease.”

The faith of this unnamed woman not only brought her healing, it also got her mentioned in three of the gospels. A woman who had been unclean and unseen caught the attention of the whole crowd. It must have been a memorable experience if Matthew, Mark and Luke all felt the need to share her story. Of all the names Jesus could have called her, He chose to call her Daughter, the same name used of Jairus’s child whose healing she was interrupting. This woman was no less important than the daughter of a synagogue ruler. Both of them received new life that day.
Although none of us really understand what it would be like to be unclean and outcast under the Jewish law, we all can think of moments of shame when all we wanted to do was disappear. Jesus could have let the woman be healed quietly and covertly and no one else needed to know what had just happened. He called her out, not just to reveal that she was physically healed, but to bring wholeness out of her brokenness, grace out of her shame, and strength out of her weakness. Her moment of deepest shame became a moment of splendor. God’s glory was revealed in a life that was not just healed but transformed.
God wants to do that for each of us. When we would settle for relief from pain and disease, He has a much greater plan of redemption. When we would like to simply enjoy a measure of healing, He wants to use our stories for His glory. He can take all our shame and weakness and brokenness and bring comfort, encouragement, and faith to many others, but only if we are willing to be seen. He can redeem our shame for His splendor. All we have to do is take those fearful, trembling steps forward to fall at His feet.
As much as I want to be used by God, I confess that shame is a powerful demotivator. It seems far easier to stay hidden and hurting than to take those little steps of faith toward wholeness. It seems easier to find ways to cope with the hardships of life than to let God uncover them for all the world to see and to judge. But His grace is greater than all our sin, shame, and suffering. Do I believe that today? Do you? Will we choose to be trust the One who knows all our secrets and risk being seen?
Oh, guard my soul, and deliver me! Let me not be put to shame, for I take refuge in You” (Psalm 25:20 ESV).



© 2016 Dawn Rutan.