Despite my innocent appearance and the well known saying about how clean preachers are supposed to be, I can be kind of a jerk. You should see me in bad traffic. We all can be at times, and unfortunately, the closer we are, the more likely I am to be a jerk to you. My husband can certainly attest to this; I’m a real grump before I’ve had my coffee. A couple days ago, I groused at him endlessly before food and caffeine had made their way into my blood stream, and like the amazing, sweet guy he is, he let it go. Later, he groused at me in a similar fashion because he was very tired, and I got unreasonably mad. It wasn’t until he was hugging me with love and forgiveness that I really realized what a jerk I had been. The grace that should have made me feel better actually made me feel worse in that moment, because it so fully convicted me of my wrongness.
This is something that I’m sure you have experienced at least once with a friend, family member, co-worker, or neighbor. There doesn’t even have to be a huge fight over it. You might snap at somebody and find they are apologizing to you for it, and suddenly you feel like the world’s biggest asshole. Grace is a funny thing that way. I know I’m guilty of this too: talking about grace as if it is an amazing, magical thing that cures everything. Why are we still acting the way we act? Don’t you know the good news of God’s love for you? But grace isn’t always a happy thing. Sometimes it’s a reminder that we have screwed up, and bad, and sometimes it surfaces all of that shame about our worth that we work so hard to hide.
Remember that scene in Good Will Hunting. You know the one, where Will’s therapist has been working with him for weeks on breaking down his defenses, and suddenly starts telling Will that the abuse he endured as a child isn’t his fault? It’s funny how he reacts to a statement that absolves him of his guilt for his inability to be vulnerable: he defends himself. He pulls away, backs up, actually swings at his therapist in an attempt to make him stop “attacking” with the words “It’s not your fault.”
There’s something really visceral about this scene, which is brought wonderfully to life by two great actors, but I think it truly hits us because most of us know how this feels. Even if you don’t know the context of the movie, you can still see the rawness of the shame and pain that this absolution dredges up for Matt Damon’s character. That’s because when we are told we are good and holy and beloved, it comes directly into conflict with all of the bad things we believe about ourselves. We are so full of shame sometimes that we don’t even realize it. I’ve written on this before, but we often spend our lives defending ourselves against the ‘not enoughs’ that are thrown at us. You’re not beautiful enough, thin enough, smart enough, talented enough, wise enough, important enough. We build up walls around that to protect ourselves. “I know I’m smart enough! How dare anybody suggest otherwise?” The crux is that when we finally hear the opposite, that we are good or smart or worthy or lovely, we don’t truly believe it. We may have everybody else fooled, but we know that deep down we just don’t buy it, and hearing “God loves you” when you think you’re a worthless sack of crap only makes you confront those feelings and fears about who you are.
Once when I was in graduate school, my first advisor in my long-ago psychology program told me that I needed to stop being so self-deprecating because I wouldn’t be here if the school didn’t think I was smart and able. I ran out of his office crying, and switched advisors a few days later, and until recently I couldn’t have told you why. I thought it was because he had embarrassed me by calling me out, and I said it was just a personality clash, but in retrospect it was because he was saying to me that I was smart and worthwhile, and that hit me deeply because I knew that in my heart of hearts I didn’t agree. It’s the same when you find yourself unexpectedly met with the graciousness of friends or family giving you money when you’re broke, or giving you forgiveness after you get drunk and start a fight about gun control at the holiday dinner table. Unconditional love challenges our very fragile sense of conditional worth.
I decided to write about this topic for two reasons. The first is that I think we often find it baffling when people refuse our overtures of love and care. Maybe there is a person you’ve been trying to love back to life who just doesn’t get it, who keeps on engaging in risky behavior or doing irresponsible things or continues to be way too hard on themselves. Sometimes you just want to scream: “WHY DON’T YOU ACCEPT MY GRACE DAMN IT?!” But I want to encourage you to be patient with those around you who just seem to never get it. I’m not saying that you should ever stay in abusive or dangerous relationships, but you never know how the love you give to those who are hurting, alone, or lost might surge back to them when their hearts are more receptive to receiving it. Understand that your love and care can be a painful thing for them. Love them anyway, in whatever ways they can accept, and slowly their hurts will be healed by grace. Give it time.
Secondly, I’m writing this for you. All of us have places where we don’t feel like we are enough. Maybe you think you aren’t a good enough provider for your family, or aren’t an active enough mom for your kids. Maybe you think you are working crap jobs and that reflects somehow on your worth. Maybe you were physically, sexually, or emotionally abused and you secretly think you must have somehow invited it. In your head you know those are lies, but I know that in moments of weakness your heart sometimes disagrees. For you I write: be loved. Because regardless of what that voice says, you are beloved. Carry on through the pain of confronting those beliefs. Talk to that voice inside your head with strength and courage and tell it: “I am enough.” Take it out of your head and imagine someone saying those things to your best friend, spouse, or child. Would you let somebody say: “Boy, you’re really stupid and worthless” to your best friend? Then don’t let you say it to you. Hear the words I’m writing for you today and hold them close when that voice comes to you. Grace is hard work sometimes; not getting it, but accepting it. But God’s love is a powerful thing that can and does heal our shame, and it is and has always been for you.
No comments:
Post a Comment