Washing Away the Shame

It's been a while since I've donated blood. I used to schedule my next appointment as I was leaving one-- every eight weeks like clockwork. I'll be honest, something happened at an appointment a while back that left me feeling a little meh; so, I lost my mojo. This year I decided to grow up, put it behind me, and get back to doing something I really believe is worthwhile and requires so little effort on my part. I have to add, recently, I have been doing some work on myself in the area of "shame." I've been reading and working out of an excellent book, The Soul of Shame, by Curt Thompson, MD. So, I'm sitting there at this appointment, feeling a little uneasy because of the way I was treated a few years ago and, at the same time, feeling pretty good about overcoming this hurdle, bringing something I feel badly about into the light and getting rid of its hold over me. 

Judi! the phlebotomist calls out. Have a seat here and we'll complete your profile. State your name, birthdate, blah, blah, blah... Oh my! You've given blood under Chambers (my maiden name), P-- (my first husband's name), Auri--Auri-- 

Aurilio! I interjected with my second husband's name, just wanting the Mickey Mouse Club roll call to be over. 

AND Murphy! she continued.

And that's when I heard it; it was shame speaking: She has no idea what my story is. How dare she judge me. I should just leave. Or maybe make up a story to explain all those names.

But then, the Holy Spirit opened my eyes. Oh, Satan, I see what you are doing here. I typically don't address him or give him credit for anything, but this was a first rate effort: using the truth about my past to lure me into doing something today I will surely regret tomorrow.

The next morning, I was studying Exodus 2:11-15. Moses, the adopted son of Pharaoh's daughter, had taken a walk in Goshen, the land of the Hebrew slaves. He witnessed an Egyptian beating a Hebrew man and, when he was sure no one was looking, killed the Egyptian. The following day on his walk, he saw two Hebrew men fighting and attempted to stop it; but the assailant responded Who made you a prince and a judge over us? Do you intend to kill me as you killed the Egyptian? Apparently, someone was looking, and shame was determined to strongarm Moses into making another bad decision. It's just like the Enemy to use truth to shake Moses. He would be called to lead the nation of Israel. He would be called to sit and judge them. When Moses stood before the burning bush, were those the words running through his mind-- Who made you a prince and judge over us? Were those the words that caused him to argue with God over His choice of leadership-- Who made you a prince and judge over us?

All throughout Scripture, shame is a "reward" for those who value empty things and lies, those who seek to kill God's people, those whom God has rejected, and fools; it is a sign of His judgment. Shame is something that those who are God's children, those who believe on Him are delivered from. As a society, we employ shame to corral folks into doing what is right: habitual lying will result in the loss of relationships and maybe even isolation from the rest of society. Who wants that? But shame in the hands of the Enemy can force us into hiding-- from others and from God. Look what it did for Adam and Eve! If shame can force us to hide from God, we will not enter God's presence, confess our sins, receive forgiveness and walk in that newness of life. If we disallow relationship with others, how can we follow Jesus' Great Commission and make disciples? How can we serve and love others if we turn our backs on fellowship? And if we're not out there doing good things in the name of Jesus, how will others give Him glory? It is in the Enemy's best interest to keep us burdened by shame, "hiding" our sin from God and our faces from one another, either out of embarrassment and fear, or out of sheer indignation.

The solution is transparency, honesty, vulnerability: Yes, I have messed up in the past; but I have claimed the forgiveness won for me at the cross, and I no longer do the sinful things I used to do. That kind of integrity isn't always met with approval and understanding in this world; but our relationship with God-- if we are His --will stand throughout eternity. Romans 10:11 assures us, For the Scripture says, 'Everyone who believes in him will not be put to shame.'  It may be just like the Enemy to use shame to force us into hiding, but it's just like Jesus to use His own blood to set us free!

We've Got Problems

We've got problems. Who doesn't, right? But our problems look like this:

And this:

And this:

No, we are not doing some sort of remodel or weird Fung Shui. This, among other things, is what it takes to leave the house safely. Just to go to church. Just to go to the grocery store. Cabinet locks to keep Mom from rifling through my make-up and hair products; shut-off valves to keep her from flooding the first two floors (again); and knobs removed from the stove so-- well, I'm sure you have it figured out.

Do these seem like huge problems to you? If I'm being honest, they really aren't big problems. It's just that, sometimes in my self-pity and pride, I wish these were not the problems we had. I wish we had "normal" problems like the rest of the people our age. You know, scheduling conflicts or health insurance that doesn't cover an endoscopy or children who don't appreciate the drum set we got their children for Christmas. Those sorts of things. Not parenting a parent. Not baby-proofing a house for a child that will never grow out of it. Not a ministry that will only end when my mother takes her last breath. These snapshots, these measures we have to implement, measures that will increase as we go along, are minor symptoms of a much larger disease.

Our whole world is broken. Sin's entrance and our acceptance of it-- alliance with it --makes this world the less than perfect place God originally created. That is the nature of the beast. However, in Christ, by His death and resurrection, we have hope for a perfect future and a new life today. Now I say all this because, a) as a disciple of Jesus Christ, I need to tell you the truth, and b) because, as a disciple, brokenness and the problems that plague me are all my fault. You see, in the moments that ratcheting sound of a child lock reminds me of all I have to go through, in the seconds it takes me to bend with bad knees to the floor and twist my arm behind pipes to shut off the water, and in the quest to hide all of my burner knobs-- my burner knobs from my kitchen --self-pity can rear its ugly prideful head. This is ridiculous! I shouldn't have to live like this. Why can't she just be normal? Our house looks like a war zone! I'm ashamed to have people over! This is all her fault. If she'd only taken better care of herself.  Under the cheapest of microscopes, I can see none of that is true. It is the hyperbole and dramatic trickery of an enemy. But it's these sorts of things, when spoken and entertained again and again, that can convince me my problems are with my mother. That it is all her fault. That she should serve as the target for all of my frustration.

Friends, my problem is not my mother. Nor is it the fact that waterproof carpeting in my house would be wildly unattractive and fireproof furniture just doesn't exist. My problem is me. If I really want to tell on myself, my problem starts with how I feel about the places God has put me, the ministry to which He has called me, the way He has planned for me to serve Him, and the mother He gave me. And, if you've been around any length of time, you know, when you've got a problem with God, the problem is you. My problems are good problems to have. Yes, because I have hair products and make-up to hide my flaws; yes, because we have running water; yes, because we have a kitchen that makes me happy and is a place where we can cook and fellowship. But these are good problems because God is showing me how to hold these things loosely, to steward them and take care that we don't lose them, but to not be concerned with how I think things are supposed to be, to learn to live in such a way that I love those whom He loves. He is teaching me that His way is better way than the self-serving way, and they look very different from one another. He is teaching me that when my relationships with the things and the others around me seem to be full of problems, I need to first examine my relationship with Him. It is our broken relationship with God that causes us brokenness among one another-- that causes us to break one another. 

I've got problems. We've all got problems. But what is God using your problems to say to you?

Dig Another Well

I am at this very moment, digging another well. It's messy. It's dark. It's hard and it makes my body ache. I don't wanna do it. But here we are.

In Genesis 26:12-22, Isaac, son of Abraham (the father of the Jewish nation, among others), was living in the land of Gerar. God had instructed him to settle there, and had promised to bless Isaac if he obeyed. Isaac did; God did. In fact, Isaac was so prosperous, the people of that area asked him to leave: Go away from us, for you are much mightier than we. So Isaac and his family moved into the nearby valley. But, lacking fresh water, they were forced to uncover some of the wells Abraham had dug. It wasn't enough. They dug a new well of their own. The native herdsmen in the valley called dibs on it. Isaac named the well Contention and dug a new well. The native herdsmen called dibs on that one, too. Isaac named it Enmity and dug a third. Well, the herdsmen had become too waterlogged or God put His foot down, 'cuz they left that one alone. Isaac called that well Rehoboth, spaciousness. Finally, some elbow room!

The Philistines of Gerar had declared it: Isaac and his clan were mightier than they. Surely, he and his could have muscled out a few shepherds. Isaac hadn't asked to move, he was doing just fine right where he was. It was the townsfolk who were so threatened by his success; they drove him to the outskirts. But the people in the valley wanted to control the water supply. What was he supposed to do? And what right did they have? Had they caused the rain and carved out the springs? No worries. Isaac simply dug another well. I'm sure it wasn't in his schedule to dig a second, much less a third big hole. I'm sure it took resources that had been allocated elsewhere. Well digging was difficult work; it was messy. One source says the soil in the area would have been loose, perfect for vegetation, but only a few inches down; then, it turned to heavy clay. Once they struck water --if they struck water-- the well would have to be lined with stones; working in the depths of the well was dark and cold. I'm merely guessing, but it may have been difficult to breathe down there: the Well of Jacob is believed to have been 75ft. deep! Their bodies would have ached at the end of each shift. Certainly, Isaac's laborers weren't keen on the idea in the first place, but you do what you have to do. However, two three wells just because some mutton farmers want to flex, can leave a guy wondering why Isaac didn't stand up for himself. Afterall, God had told him to settle in the area; God had told him He would bless him. But it was God, Isaac reasoned, who would handle it. Isaac just did what it took to obey, and held on to the promise.

So, I'm digging another well. Someone has hurt me. Someone has denied me. Someone has taken something I clearly believe God has told me to do, and stamped VETO over it. Someone is throwing their weight around and it's making life difficult for me. I can head right on up the food chain and file my complaint. I can be louder. I can spout Bible verses and recruit others to support me. I can shame others into doing what is right. Or, I can trust that God will take care of it to His glory, I can do what it takes to obey regardless of the conduct of others, and I can dig another well. 

It's gonna take prayer, praying for my heart to change as well as others'. I need to prepare for it to get worse before it gets better; I may endure some long, dark nights of meeting with the Lord "face to face." I have to guard my tongue against gossip, against malicious words and angry speech. My eyes might burn from tears; my knees might ache from hours of prayer; my head might pound from a lack of sleep; my stomach  might growl and churn as I fast. How deep into the Word am I willing to go? How committed am I to the hard labor of obedience? How often am I willing to submit to the washing of the water of the Word? Well digging can be tough. 

Anybody care to join me?

Unqualified

In the interest of transparency-- and transparency breaks the bonds of shame, y'all --I want your to know something. It's something that, when I say it, my eyes tend to fall to the floor, my voice lowers. Whenever I feel a they're-gonna-ask-for-your-testimony moment coming on, my brain, working at warp speed, is already formulating more palatable ways of saying it, is already formulating the explanations that I hope will justify it. The it is that I have been married three times. Yes, three. That little fun fact has been the source of some shame, and the twisted thinking of shame goes as follows:

You are unqualified.

Unqualified to serve the Lord, unqualified to even think of speaking to anyone about marriage, unqualified to be considered clean or new (that one really hits hard). Unqualified for all sorts of reasons! Because, now that I've had my fun, sown my wild oats, as they say, I want to sit back in my later years and tell other people how to live. Because I was a hot mess then and it's only a matter of time before I am a hot mess again. Because people like me...well, we are forever damaged goods.

I am not going to share my testimony with any detail. That may be for another day. I am not going to explain myself or the circumstances of any of my marriages. I am going to tell you this:

I am qualified.

I am qualified because the blood of Jesus has cleansed me from all of my sin: past, present, future. I am qualified because God has a plan and purpose for my life: to glorify Him and to share with others the good news of His salvation. I am qualified because God has changed me, is changing me, and will change me to reflect His character, the character that Jesus Christ walked out on earth two thousand years ago for all of us to see and imitate. I am qualified because God uses broken vessels (like me, like David, like a woman at a well, like Paul) to shine His light and reveal His steadfast love to others who are in need of a Savior. That is the meat and potatoes, if you will, of my testimony, of my calling, and of my qualification. None of it is of me.

So I guess, Shame, if you're listening, you are right: I am not qualified, but praise God, the One who lives in me is! And now you have been exposed, but so has He! (2 Corinthians 3:17-4:18)