Have you ever considered that when you condemn yourself for something, you are saying that the blood of Jesus wasn’t enough? And when you take on and wear shame, you are saying Jesus’ sacrifice didn’t cover this particular thing for which you feel shame? Unfortunately, several religious communities have preached with great conviction that we must earn the love of God by good works and avoiding the bad stuff. But I don’t believe that is Scriptural or true.
The love of God was demonstrated when He sent Jesus to die for us, even while we hated Him, didn’t know Him, and didn’t care to. The one sacrifice Jesus made took on all the bad stuff—there is nothing that is too much or wasn’t covered at that point—past, present and future. If there was, Jesus would have to die over and over again to cover it.
When we agree with condemnation, we are negating Jesus’ death and resurrection. We are saying it is not enough, and I must really beat up on myself before I can be stamped “approved” by God. I must wallow in self-pity, in condemnation and in shame in order to earn God’s love. Yuck.
One of the most often repeated lies people share with me in terms of what they think about themselves is that they are worthless. This has been communicated by various people in their lives, or by their own definition time and time again. Sometimes they feel they should be at a different place in their lives and that would give worth. Sometimes they believe if they had worked hard enough to make people like them that this would give them worth. Sometimes they have been told that their only worth lies in their being used for whatever purpose the user desires, and that they will lose worth if they stop allowing someone to use them.
Worth is not transactional. It is not given when we earn it. A person doesn’t gain worth the more they achieve, relate to others, or give. Some people try to convince themselves they have worth, but it is usually based in something they have to believe about themselves. When someone communicates they are not worth their time, the façade is gone and we struggle to believe we have worth apart from what others communicate.
When we experience rejection while trying to find someone to communicate worth, any sense of having worth is obliterated as we have placed the definition on a person or place in this world. It is gut-wrenching, and feels like death.
We had a crazy windstorm last week with almost 24 hours of intense wind gusts and the resulting damages—trees falling, fences knocked down, various lawn chairs and trampolines blown away. I’ve never been through a hurricane on the coast, and I realized what people talk about with the sheer noise wind can create. My husband had to wear earplugs to sleep, and the howling and crashing went on all night.
At some point during the night, I woke up and listened to the wind for a bit while lying in bed. It dawned on me that this was what the disciples felt when they were out in the boat with Jesus, except they were on a boat tossed by the waves rather than a warm bed in a safe house. I imagined the fear and panic that would govern in a situation like that. They were pretty sure they were going to die out there in that storm.
Jesus had been teaching about faith prior to this story told in Mark 4. When the storm comes up, he is SLEEPING. This makes no sense to us when we don’t realize that God is enough in a storm, but Jesus knew His Father was watching out for Him and didn’t need to worry or stress about anything.
God loves you. That phrase has gotten trite and feels shallow sometimes. And yet, it is anything but trite and shallow. While we hated, mocked, spat on Him, God loves us. While we ran from Him and fought any call of His to come to Him, God loves us. While we rebelled and invited more and more darkness into ourselves, God loves us. While the selfishness took over to distort us into maniacal narcissists, God loves us. While we postured in false humility and rode ego trips for our “good” deeds, God loves us.
God reached through the darkness with which we had surrounded ourselves, calling our names and extending His hand to pull us out of the pit. We didn’t know Him, but He knew us. He knew every bit of us and still chose to love us. He loved us to death, and to resurrection in power. Jesus walked the road of ultimate sacrifice, knowing what was in each of us and how we chose our own way. He looked past it and loved anyway. He never stops loving. We simply need to accept the love.
I have been thinking about how cool it is that we take a safe place with us no matter where we go. We are similar to snails—they carry their home on their backs, ready to pull into a shell whenever things get scary. The difference is that our safe place is within, and we can access it any time without physically moving. God no longer dwells in a temple made with hands, but in His people. (1 Corinthians 6:19-20) He has given us His Spirit, and His very Life within.
We are in Christ, and Christ is in us. We contain the wrap-around presence of God within us all the time. It’s kind of a cool picture, isn’t it? We carry Him, and He wraps around us and shelters us as well. So many things with God’s kingdom are both/and. His Life is in us, and we are in Him.
What do you do when the aching fingers of sadness seem to take hold of your heart and your head and won’t let it go? When the thought of getting out of bed and facing the day causes you to roll over and forget the whole thing? When the obsession with all the stupid things you’ve said, the flaws in your appearance or demeanor, or the ways you’ve been let down begins to drown you in self-pity and despair?
What do you do with the brokenness you see inside you? When the façade doesn’t cover well and the cracks show through, reminding everyone around you that you are flawed and imperfect? How do you live through the shattered image, with all the beautiful shards mocking you from the ground while you sit naked and bare?
We did a birthday party for my son this last weekend. A bunch of his friends came over and did a Nerf gun war in the backyard in childhood bliss. I was talking with my son later that night and he totally shocked me by leaning over for a hug and saying, “Thanks for the fun party, Mom.” More often than not, my kids complain about what they don’t have rather than being thankful for what they do. And (who am I kidding here?) so do I.
I can’t tell you how many people I talk to who just want to “figure it out” and they think this will bring resolution. Whether it’s analyzing their relationship with parents, understanding why they might have made the choices they did, or recognizing the issues an ex had which made the relationship impossible, it’s all an attempt to bring an explanation and thus hopefully, peace.
