Shame

Shame – crafty, scheming, devious and illusive - an emotion whose name alone conjures its own feeling like a witch calling forth an evil spirit.  It rises from the abyss to plunge its serrated edged dagger of self-loathing into the core of the soul; ripping open the victim’s self-image from the inside out and leaving their psyche trapped in its putrefied scent like the wanderer’s misstep into pitch.  With its prey firmly constrained it sinks its fangs of denigration into their character extracting all traces of self-worth, but never satisfied to leave one numb from the void. 

It resolutely attaches itself inside of the shadows hiding behind memories waiting like a street thug to strike at any hint of trauma’s echo.  Its elusive nature coerces its target to use its own voice against itself; compelling the bound to participate in its own demise like a victim at the mercy of its perpetrator.  With stealth like intimidation it attacks convincing the quarry its damaged goods leaving them indefensibly cloaked in an oppressive shroud of torment and driving them deep into the darkness dividing them from all that is good.

Shame is an aggressor skilled in treachery that prostrates the martyr at the altar of its deception exacting revenge and driving self-retaliation.  Shame promotes anguish, discharges sorrow, conceals dignity, hides self-worth; demanding allegiance to isolation’s depths.  Shame rejects all counsel, discards support, refuses the truth, snubs encouragement, disallows legitimacy and rebuffs love.  Shames goal is to eliminate pleasure, dissolve satisfaction, question integrity, induce agony and kill dreams.  It is a calculating, fraudulent, misleading enemy that oppresses, humiliates and threatens bent on destruction with the ultimate goal of dehumanizing its prey.   

Some capitulate to the idea that shame is inherent in the human condition, born out of humanities depraved nature well deserved in the face of its guilt.  LIES!!!!!!!!!!!  Perpetuating that perception binds shame's sufferer to the baseless belief that they are defective partnering with shames duplicitous satisfaction.  God’s testimony speaks to the cherished and distinctive nature of humanities essence; its creation a precious investment that testifies to his/her goodness and mercy.  Creatures whose worth is so deeply inherent that God nailed her/himself to a cross, not to appease Divine anger, but to solidify the profound legitimacy of his/her eternal acceptance, love and the priceless nature of one’s person-hood. 

Shame is the antithesis of acceptance and authenticity; the burial garment of hope born out of unimaginable helplessness and traumatizing pain.  Shame is the heaviness of sorrow draped over the heart's eyes obscuring the ability to see one’s authentic self in all their unique purpose and beauty. Shame is not an emotion that leads to life; but a tyrannical persecutor that intimidates, rejects, distorts and devours one’s capacity to be loved.    

Shame IS the Guardian of Darkness. 

Hope

I recently had a conversation with a friend who responded following our dialogue, “I need to hear hope”.   Yes, it’s true I have been navigating a faith crisis, what some would call a Dark Night of the Soul.  My seminary experience challenged me to my core; relationally, theologically and emotionally exposing the buried shame, pain and questions of a traumatized past and defended by a religious system that promises what it was never intended to deliver.  As if this was not enough stress, my mom’s health failed and as some of you know she died less than two months ago.  Nevertheless, my friend’s statement had me seriously contemplating the definition of hope. 

I did what I initially do when I begin to ruminate; I pulled out my thesaurus.  Words like confident, expectant and optimistic jumped off the page…. secure, cheerful, content, undisturbed and upbeat challenged my current sensibilities.  So I moved on to the antonym section.  Discouraged, disheartened, dreary, gloomy and pessimistic are not terms that I would use to define my present attitude either.  I am grieving.  I am in pain over multiple losses which include my mom’s suffering and foreseeable death; the reality of deception both self and other driven; dreams deferred and deceased; time robbed that should have been spent building a career and family; and the sheer weariness of navigating a life long journey to restore health and hope.  Yes it’s true, I have spent the larger portion of my graduate career weeping, wailing and lamenting….. does that indicate that I am or have been without hope?

My answer is a passionate and emphatic no!  Hope is not solely an emotive expression or affirmative sound bite that offers shallow responses to wells of agony.  Hope is the human drive to survive… an instinct; a survival mechanism and an internal motivation to move forward when everybody and everything screams, ‘give up’.  Hope is intrinsic to being human – it is engraved on each individual’s heart and is primeval.  Hope is the motivation to continue to exist or function in spite of adversity.   It is something that propels me forward even when I can’t clearly see – it causes me to persist, ride out, carry on, endure and weather the storm.  At my lowest point, when hope’s vision was eclipsed, I had the word “Hope” tattooed onto my wrist.  The very act of doing the opposite of what my internal life screamed speaks to hope. 

Theologically I ask the question - was Jesus propelled by hope to endure the cross?  I am pretty sure that his countenance was not cheerful or upbeat.  I can confidently surmise that grief accompanied Christ’s journey to his crucifixion, yet it did not obscure the joy that was set before him.  I would say that my life has been and continues to be a testimony of hope.  I have had to fight against and endure obstacles that most, gratefully, will never have to.  I have had to persevere, to rise above conditions that would and has bankrupted others.   Yes, I may be experiencing a season of sorrow, but I can say with all confidence I do have hope......and so do you.   

The Darkness

It was dark when I got up this morning for my daily walk – it has been over a week since I have done this and I was hoping that it would help combat some of the weariness that has found residence in my soul.  I overextended myself this summer and what I thought would be a good distraction is turning out to backfire…..I suppose I should back my story up a little.    

I have spent the past year walking a journey of what Christian culture calls transformation.  When those in leadership preach on the term it seems so innocuous – so innocent – so safe.  The truth is it is a journey back into the darkness of one’s soul revisiting places of pain that have long been cut off  – places that are so infected with toxins that opening them up is like releasing a contagion back into your very existence that births one thought, will my faith survive. The anguish that attends this process is excruciating and if bottled could take a family of rhinoceros down.  Coupling this with the academic expedition through seminary; one that is specifically designed to deconstruct, has left the foundations of my life in constant movement – what I am calling my emotional and theological earthquake.  This is testing the very core of who I am. 

I have faced severe trials in the past – those that have ended other people’s lives both literally and figuratively.  Nonetheless, this time is calling for me to pull on internal resources that I sometimes wonder if I possess.  The tentacles of agony grab and drag me down at the most inconvenient times.  I sometimes find myself crumpled in a corner like yesterday’s dirty laundry tears pouring from a place so dim it oozes from every pore making it difficult to breath.  Yet, this is not the darkness I experienced before – the sable that permeated much of my youth.  I have been blinded by evil’s sinister fingers where the daytime is as black as a starless night; where everything is obscured by a veil of hopelessness concealing any of life’s beauty.  I have been imprisoned by shadow’s nefarious claws that bound me to a deep depression and I have been held captive in desperation’s dark dungeon entombed with no way out.   But this is different…. 

As I walked this morning I thought back upon a recent conversation with a friend in which we shared intimacies about our past.  Both of us had been bound by despair and our shared experience had me reflecting on what I am going through.  This journey is the testing of everything that I believe about God, people and myself.  The structure of my life has scaffolding surrounding it and the foundations have been unearthed.  This has me in a place of extreme vulnerability and one that sometimes suggests that the darkness will once again overtake me.  But that is a lie.  I am intimately familiar with darkness – I know it like a wife knows her husband.  I know it like others will thankfully never know it.  I possess an understanding of its nature that has not; nor will it ever fully disappear from my soul.  It has left its indelible handprint on me like a tattoo that has been permanently etched into my skin.  However, the darkness overextended itself.  In its quest to destroy my life it underestimated one thing…… the nail shaped scars that cover those handprints allowing for the light to shine hope back into my soul.