The stripped Him. There was no purpose for that beyond fanning the flame of public humiliation. So they stripped Him naked. Some watched as others, both officials and bystanders, mocked Him, insulted Him, spit on Him and ridiculed Him - before and then after the false accusations were made. If there was a way to publicly shame the man, they did. They thought the idea of a slow death was appropriate to drag out the agony and the humiliation.
So they walked Him naked through the streets.
And then they watched Him die.
My mind is scattered - and the words I want won't come out - as though they are looking for a secret door in the darkness. Is it a matter of focus? Mental clarity? Social distractions? Or is it something more? I have to clear my mind, so I ask Him to sit with me. And I ask Him to tell me the story of what happened.
"I need you to sit with me."
And suddenly He is there, sitting directly across the table from me. The world goes still, blurred out, as I look at Him. For some reason, I cannot see a spotless face. I see Him, but there is a trail of drying blood that runs down the left side of his forehead, almost reaching his left eye. His right nostril has dried blood in and around it from a healing wound. I am surprised that this is the way He chose to reveal Himself to me today. But He looks well, and He looks whole. And so we sit - looking across the table at one another. And I simply look at Him. And He simply looks at me.
I ask him, "You know what this is, don't you?"
"Yes. I do. I felt it, too."
"Do I have to tell the world my secrets?"
"No. You don't. I know them all."
The word they used was "ignominy". As though there was a formal and more subtle way to frame the word. And why? Why was shame such a huge part of the punishment? Because it hurts? Or because it's for a bigger reason?
I have come to detest and reject the phrase, "everything happens for a reason", as though every heartache, hurt, betrayal and loss was orchestrated by God. And if there is one thing that would turn someone away from God, why wouldn't it be that? Because that would do it for me. I do not believe that everything happens for a reason. I believe that evil exists in this world. I believe we live in a broken world, each of us with free will. Sometimes things happen for a reason. But not always. Otherwise, why would I put any faith at all in a God that would orchestrate such enormous hurt on my behalf? As a Believer, I know that God orchestrates things in my life for good. Sometimes those things hurt my heart. But if I had lost a child, or a spouse, or part of myself - how could I claim that God specifically orchestrated that as something "good"? I can't reason that. And if I wasn't a Believer, why would I be drawn to a God who would do that to me?
So I thought about this, why is shame so hard to write about? But therein lies the secret. And it answered so many of my questions. Because shame is hard to talk about. And the purpose behind the spirit of shame is to shut our mouth. Suddenly, the words were there as was God's voice. Each time I sat to write about this, Satan was whispering in my ear, quietly and viscously - "Sit down. And shut up." And THAT, is the spirit of shame. The purpose of it is to make you sit down, and shut your mouth. And it is surprisingly effective.
We know what shame is, don't we? We don't have to define it, cut out a cross section and analyze it. We don't have to consult a professional or confirm the diagnosis with a doctor. We know what it is. We know what it feels like. But I do believe that we do not always or easily see what it does to us. At times we hold it, like a stolen package underneath our clothes. Often we wear it, like a scar that has disfigured us, so we hide our face. But as it ages underneath our skin, it tries to become us. Because shame wants nothing more than to become our identity.
As a Believer, we know that we are forgiven, loved, and Chosen. But we also know that we are deeply and brutally judged by humanity. We sin, we fall, we make mistakes. But also, so many are victims of broken childhoods, generational iniquity, and the results of a broken world. Some of the shame we experience comes from our own decisions, but so much of it comes from brokenness done against us. Still sometimes we have been presented with a decision, not knowing the right answer - or even being forced to make a decision before we know how to make it. And sometimes it's the wrong decision. However shames finds its way to us it often takes root. Over time, it all takes shape inside of our hearts as regret, guilt, remorse, and secrets. And if only there was a way to uproot it, to take the nest of that debris and clean the remnants out of our heart.
YOU DON'T HAVE TO IDENTIFY THE GUILT IN YOU.
Oftentimes we reinforce shame in others unknowingly- because of the way we approach them - or remind them of something they aren't proud of - Even if our intent is to relate to one another, reach out for approach, or even share Christ with them, often times that approach is wrong and all we do is inflame the shame inside of them.
Courage is compassion for yourself.
Brene Brown, author of Daring Greatly, set out to find if there was one core element that everyone was driven by, regardless of their past, demographics, memories, age, or other. In the course of this journey, she found that the one single element that drove everyone, was connection. Her dedicated search found that we are all neurobiologically wired for connection - regardless of any other factors - people need and want connection. This was her finding. And in the midst of it all - Brown had a breakdown and a spiritual awakening. Was this a coincidence? A movement of God in her life? Whatever it was, it led her down a road of discovery. Two years later she asked herself this; if everyone wants to be connected - why aren't they? If connection is the one undeniable element that each and every one of us wants and needs and desires, what stops us? That question lingered, and the journey went on. Five years and thousands of interviews later she found the answer. If connection was the treasure, what was the obstacle?
And the answer was shame. Shame itself was the number one enemy of connection and relationships.
Author and Pastor Kris Vallotton explored this further and broke it down. "Shame", he says, "is the fear of disconnection". Shame says that there is something about me - that if someone knew it, it would make me unworthy of their connection.
Where guilt says "I did something wrong", Shame says "I am something wrong".
During Brown's process of interviewing people, the study that was analyzed separated people into two categories: those who have shame and those who came out of it. Once again, the results were narrowed down to one essential element. All the people who experienced shame and then walked out of it had one element in common. And the one element they had in common was their capacity to be vulnerable. They found that everyone who is vulnerable - because they were courageous and had compassion for themselves, walked out of shame. Furthermore, everyone who walked out of shame had this in common - vulnerability. And what is vulnerability?
Vulnerability is the ability to be seen and to be known. And I will add, vulnerability is to allow yourself to be loved, just as you are, right in this very moment.
Vulnerability breaks the power of shame.
Vulnerability - says "I love you" before you say "you love me". It is the birthplace of happiness, joy, creativity, belonging and love. It is the power to tell the story of your whole heart - with your whole heart. Vulnerability includes "worthiness" - the belief that we deserve to be loved and that we belong. (KV) The study went on further and found that everyone who loved themselves came of out shame. And everyone who came out of shame was courageous.
What's interesting to me is the word Courage. Courage itself comes from the word "cor", which is Latin for "heart". In one of it's earliest forms, the word courage meant "to speak one's mind by telling all one's heart." And to tell the story of who you are, with your whole heart is to be "fully alive".
Our conversation continued here, "I don't want to tell anyone."
He replies, "You don't have to, love. When I died, I took it with me. So you don't have to tell the story. But someday you might choose to."
So I sit with Him. And I silently study His bloody face. And I try to tell him, "No, you don't understand. If people knew, they'd see me differently. They'll talk about me behind my back. They'll ostracize me. And maybe I deserve that. Because even if they don't know what I've done, I KNOW what I've done. I know what happened to me. I know what I took part in. THIS is what I am. THIS is what lies underneath the façade, the smile, the suit, the desk, the title, the money, the perfect picture of the perfect life. THIS IS WHO I AM ON THE INSIDE."
And that is what Satan spoke on my behalf. When he said, "Sit down. Shut up" he then tried to speak for me. This is the process of writing about shame. It seeks to sit you down, and silence you. It paralyzes you because it paralyzes the process and the path out. If I was going to hold shame over someone, I'd need their silence. I would require it. So, I'd silence you with the guilt, the pressure, the social norms, the gossip, the judgment, and the unworthiness. Because shame can ONLY exist in darkness. When it hooks into us, it drags us into the darkness to hide. No one else can see it. No one else can see you. So, where is the light and the way out?
"What happened to you emotionally?" I ask Him. I don't need to ask about the physical wounds because those are right there on display. And if He were alive today, the scars would continue to tell that story. So I ask Him about the emotional wounds.
"They did it all to me. They shamed me, abused me, abandoned me, mocked me, ridiculed me and tried to make me question my worth, my purpose, my existence. And all of it hurt. All of it."
He goes on... "It had to happen. Because how can I take your wounds from you if I didn't know how they felt?"... "These are the wounds that will hurt you long into your life if I don't take them from you. And I could only take them from you by feeling them first."
However, wounds have memories. And oftentimes those memories cause me to try to take back the wound and dig through it, to reaggravate what was almost healed, to inflame the edges and infect the blood. So I have to start the process over again of giving Christ that wound. I have to stop the cycle of saying, "But, what if?"
He looks at me and says, "What if? What if you laid this burden down at my feet and together we make sure it doesn't come back to you?"
"How do we do that?" I ask Him in return.
I have often taken something from my children that I knew would hurt them. Scissors, a knife, a choking hazard, a thorn, the list is endless. And I don't give it back to them. Sometimes I simply delay what they want because in it's current state it might hurt them as they are not ready for it. So I imagine laying down the burdens at the feet of Christ as we both stand to look at it. It is my action of giving it to Him that will result in the release of it. It is an acceptance of Christ Himself, that I believe in the purpose of His pain. And in faith I lay down my wounds so that His death was not in vain. So I must give it to Him. It is both freedom and reward and the relinquishing of a debt that was already paid once - and must not be paid twice.
"I know what this is, Jesus. Do you?"
He replies, "Of course I do. I know everything about it, what happened, why it happened, how it hurt you then, how it hurts you now. I know every detail. Because what hurts you, also hurts me."
"What happens now?" I ask Him.
"I take it from you. And this time, I will light a flame to it. So that you cannot take it back, you cannot wear it, you cannot capture it in your hands, you cannot identify with it, and most importantly it cannot identify with you. I walked through every wound with you, and before you. Because I had to know your core wounds. And I had to know how to take them from you so they would stop hurting you. Shame is no longer your identity. Neither is any of the other wounds you are wearing. So lay them here. And we will watch them burn together."
And without a word, I laid my wounds down. I asked Christ to take them. We looked at them together. He set them on fire. And we watched them burn and turn into ash.
All that was left was Him and me.
"I took your wounds. And you don't have to share those secrets if you don't want to. But I took them. They are no longer yours. You will have memories. But the burdens are no longer yours. And one day, when you're ready, you can share the testimony of your courage and how you told the story of your heart- with your whole heart."
Some of those wounds were huge. Some of them were small. Some of them tried to sneak out of the fire to crawl back to me. But the fire took them and consumed them. And as I watched them burn, I realized that Truth and Light, Courage and Love lit the flame.
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