How does shame affect my relationship with God? (1)

I'm doing a lot of work around letting go of old shame lately, through Dr. Brene Brown's book The Gifts of Imperfection and the Dream Lab (http://www.mondobeyondo.org/) on the book.  Brene makes the distinction that shame is about feeling "I am bad" where guilt is about "I did something bad."  A lot of my life I have felt that "I am bad," based on things that happened to me when I was too young to know the difference.  I am becoming aware that this has often prevented me from feeling like I really belong, kept appropriate love at a distance, made me hesitant to ask for help, and/or made it difficult to have realistic expectations about what is possible for me to accomplish.

I do believe (with my head and part of my heart) that I am (and all of us are) made in the image of God.  I want to believe that God loves me just as I am today, and that I am enough.  It's not that I won't keep striving to learn and grow and become a better person, but what if shame gets in the way of even trying to be better?  What if God believes in me WAY more than I believe in myself ?  (I have told other people this about themselves, but my inner child has a hard time accepting that this might be true.)

I know that one way shame has gotten in the way in the past is that when I would begin a time of prayer, I would feel that I needed to list all the ways I had "fallen short of the glory of God" (as if I thought that by trying hard enough I would ever NOT fall short?) and beg (over and over) for forgiveness.  Not too surprisingly, sometimes the prospect of this would keep me from even beginning to try to "hear" God.  I know the difference now between the times when I really do need to confess, ask for (and accept) forgiveness, and then move on, and the times when I just want to be attentive and open to the presence of God.  I have come to believe that God's standards for me are much more loving and accepting than how the perfectionist in me is always looking to criticize and judge.

Another way I have become aware recently that shame gets in the way is that when I am "in shame," it is very hard for me to be with other people, even for worship or fellowship.  So I am not only resisting letting in God's love, but I am also staying away from the possibility of receiving human love.  This reinforces the shame, making it harder to believe that I might be "worthy of love and belonging," as Brene shares in her TEDxHouston video (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X4Qm9cGRub0, totally worth 20 minutes of your time!), just because I exist, which I couldn't do without the love of God. 

The good news in all of this process has several parts.  One is that during all these years, God has NEVER given up on me, and keeps drawing me near to God's heart, a moment at a time.  Another is that I am beginning to understand that all of us have shame and we live in a shame-ridden culture, so I am not alone as a human, either.  And it is possible to let shame go and learn, by God's grace, that I AM ENOUGH.  I can relax into being just one of God's creatures, instead of the constant tension of trying to live as if I am the Creator (very exhausting and gets me into trouble every time).  And here is the even bigger news:  I don't have to be free of shame in order to be in relationship with God, and God is way bigger than shame and able to break through with love to the places in me that I wish I could hide from God and from other people.

I suspect I will have more to say about this as time goes on and the process of being healed of old shame continues, but today I really wanted to begin to share on this topic.  What are the ways shame gets in the way of your relationship with God?

I must give credit to Brene Brown (http://www.brenebrown.com/) and The Gifts of Imperfection for sparking this reflection, and to the Dream Lab (http://www.mondobeyondo.org/) where a large group of people from all over the world are sharing in the process of letting go of shame that gets in the way of "wholehearted living."  Stay tuned!

Nugget for Reflection

 ‎"Unless we completely inhabit ourselves, it’s not possible to be completely present. If we’re not completely present, we’re not inclusive—and when we’re not inclusive, that’s when we exclude others who have different views, different opinions, different upbringings—difference. In presence, we see the beauty in what was... previously unbeautiful—in difference and in alikeness. It’s all of life." -Gina Sharpe

Thank you, @Parabola Magazine on FB!  From "The Beautiful Mind:  A Conversation with Gina Sharpe," in the current issue, http://www.parabola.org/the-beautiful-mind-a-conversation-with-gina-sharpe.

I will be thinking about what it means to "inhabit myself" and ways I exit from that dwelling far too often as I continue to participate in the DreamLab on "The Gifts of Imperfection" by Brene Brown.  Maybe "inhabiting myself" and centering in God are related?

What can I do about hatred?

Like many of us, I have been thinking since Saturday's horrific shootings in Arizona about the current culture of hateful rhetoric which sometimes becomes more than rhetoric and moves into action which results in horror and tragedy.  I find it so easy to stand outside of the tragedy and distance myself from the actions of a Loughner or a Seung-hui Cho (Virginia Tech) or any of the many tragedies that have been in the news over the past years.  Surely I could never do anything like that---could I?

As part of my journey toward being a peacemaker, trying to follow Jesus, I have had to recognize and accept that I have the same capacity for violence as any killer or bomber or abuser, and that my violence is only on a different part of the spectrum from what I am seeing in the news.  I may not get to the point where I make the headlines, but there are ways that I participate (or choose not to) in hateful speech.  I am on the road toward violence:

• When I listen to the negative, judging, MEAN inner voices that question my worth, I step toward using those same criteria on others;
• When I judge myself or others harshly, without compassion, I am adding to the culture of hate;
• When I refuse to admit that I might be wrong (SUCH a struggle at times), I am setting myself up as a little tin god, master of the universe, creator rather than created; 
• When I seek certainty (being right, even about God) instead of trusting, I am, again, outside my limits as a finite human being;
• When I push myself beyond reasonable limits so that I am constantly tired and irritable, I am refusing to accept my humanity, often in the name of ambition that is not really consistent with what have become my core values;
• When I violate my own boundaries or allow others to do so, I am acting out of the belief that who I am does not matter, setting myself up for resentment which can lead to small (or not so small) acts of violence against myself or others;
• When I refuse to forgive (which can sometimes take a long time, but the willingness is a start and often I even need to pray for that), I am forgetting how often I have needed and received forgiveness, putting huge amounts of energy into building walls that keep me separate, judging, hurting and ready to hurt.

I have learned all of these things about myself, and I am still a long way from being the person I believe God is creating me to be--and I have to seek forgiveness from God and others (and forgive myself) on a daily basis for that, too!  Making God my first priority, paying attention to where God is present throughout the day, seeking to let God be God, these and many other small disciplines (and more that God will show me as I am ready) are all pieces of the discipline I am learning as I seek to center my life in God, not me.  I want to be part of the culture of love, compassion, mutual bearing of burdens--the vision Jesus shared of the kingdom of God that is within us.  I believe that desire is, itself, one of the many graces of God and that God will use that to draw my heart toward peacemaking.

Nugget for Reflection

Notes from Nancy:

This quote from Catholic theologian Hans urs von Balthasar has been appropriately challenging and liberating for me at various times during my healing/faith journey.  At other times, it has felt like it led to negative thinking and beating myself up.  It is not my intention for this quote to apply to all who are victims or to every stage of the healing process.  I share it today because it fits for me today.

Note:  Von Balthasar's meditation The Heart of God is written mostly, including in this passage, in the "voice" of Jesus.

"You naturally believe you see more clearly than the others.  You have proofs in hand.  You see yourself—your old man—black and white, and everything in you cries out:  “Impossible!”  You see the distance and can measure with accuracy the gap between misdeeds and atonement, the gap between you and me.  Who could struggle against such evidence?  You withdraw into your sorrow; this, at least, is yours.  In the experience of your woes you feel yourself alive.  And if someone should lay a hand to your sorrows and attempt to tear them up by the root, surely he would tear your whole heart out of your breast—so intertwined have you and your sufferings become.  Nevertheless, I have risen.  And your wise pain, your senile pain, into which you gladly plunge, by which you think you show me fidelity, through which you believe you are united to me:  your pain is an anachronism.  For today I am young and utterly happy.  And what you call your fidelity is nothing but obstinacy.  Do you have the standard in your hand?  Is your soul the arbiter of what might be possible for God?  Is your heart, swollen with experiences, the clock from which you tell what God’s decree for you might be?  What you take to be profundity is but unbelief.  But since you are so wounded and the open torment of your heart has opened up to the abyss of your very self, put out your hand to me and, with it, feel the pulse of another Heart:  through this new experience your soul will surrender and heave up the dark gall which it has long collected.  I must overpower you.  I cannot spare exacting from you your melancholy—your most-loved possession.  Give it to me, even if it costs you your soul and your inner self thinks it must die.  Give me this idol, this cold stony clot in your breast, and in its place I will give you a new heart of flesh that will beat to the pulse of my own Heart.  Give me this self of yours, which lives on its not being able to live, which is sick because it cannot die.  Let it perish, and you will finally begin to live.  You are enamored of the sad puzzle of your incomprehensible ego.  But you have already been seen through and comprehended, for look:  if your heart accuses you, I am nevertheless greater than this your heart, and I know everything.  Dare to make the leap into the Light!  Do not take the world to be more profound than God!  Do not think that I cannot make short work of you!  Your city is besieged, your provisions are exhausted:  you must capitulate.  What could be simpler and sweeter than opening the door to love?  What could be easier than falling to one’s knees and saying:  “My Lord, and my God!?”"

Hans urs von Balthasar, Heart of the World, pp. 164-165

Victim, Survivor, Witness

Somehow I thought becoming a blogger would be easier than this has turned out to be.  I got derailed in December by a bad cold that turned into a sinus infection (and realized I couldn't write with my head full of....well, enough said!).  I have lots of titles for possible blog posts written down, and may eventually get to some of them.  But this one is up in my face today, so here goes.

I have spent many years recovering from wounds of childhood sexual abuse, as I have mentioned in some of my earlier blog posts.  Along the way, it became important for me to move from identifying myself as a victim to claiming my identity as a survivor.  I have sensed for some time that my vocation as a person of faith includes being a witness (which includes being present to witness with others, as well as witnessing to God's power to heal), so it should not surprise me that I am now sensing another shift in my public identity, from survivor to witness. (And yet, although this is not the first time that God has moved me toward greater transparency as I seek to share what I have learned, I do still keep being surprised!)
Last week I watched a brief video reflection (a prelude to a series) by Catholic theologian James Alison, at the Raven Foundation (http://www.ravenfoundation.org/, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8PsBTGKoOEsecting) on Jesus as the prototype of forgiving victim.  As I listened to him reflect on Jesus' appearance to Cleopas and another person on the road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13-27, I could sense God moving me another step toward a different understanding of my own life narrative, with the image of Jesus as modeling forgiveness after his resurrection.  For the first time, I noticed what he did NOT do in this, one of his first recorded appearances after his death. Most of us who have suffered some kind of victimization go through stages of anger and longing for accountability, if not vengeance.  In the story, he does not say one word about what had happened to him, or demonstrate any attachment to the injustice and trauma he had experienced as part of his identity.

Although for many years I felt as if I would never be free of the need to deal with issues, and my understanding of my identity was very much shaped by the story of the abuse and my recovery from it, in the past year I have increasingly found new freedom from the emotional baggage of my past.  I believe that 2011 will be for me (by God's grace) a year of letting go of more old "stuff," including the habits and thought patterns and coping strategies that belong to the past, and a year of learning new ways to be in the world with the new identity/narrative that comes with keeping my eyes on Jesus instead of me.  I look forward to sharing that process (and other things) as I blog more regularly.

P.S. Thanks, Tripp, for drawing my attention to the Raven Foundation!