Shame And The Cross

[BLAZEr]

Can I just get some of our Protestant brothers comments on this article. You can agree or disagree or dispute or whatever, I'm just interested to see your reaction. Thanks!

SHAME AND THE CROSS

In February of tenth grade, a huge longhaired guy named Mike beat me up after school. He had learned that a male friend had sexually abused me when I was young. Concluding that I was a "flower" (as he so eloquently put it), Mike decided I deserved to be beaten up. To him it was a simple mathematical equation. The fight didn't last very long. I spent most of my free time reading books and playing video games—not activities that make one much of a fighter. Mike got me in a headlock, I cried uncle, and that was it.

Well, that wasn't quite it. I had dug a deep grave to bury the secret of my sexual abuse, and now that secret was unearthed.

In the months after the fight with Mike, I wandered the halls at lunch hour, pretending I had somewhere to go when I really didn't. I had a few friends, but I spent most of my time with them drinking—the more alcohol the better. I had a couple of girlfriends in high school, but those relationships were based heavily on physical intimacy. Alcohol and sex provided a mind-numbing escape from shame. My hunger for intimacy battled with the terror of being truly known.

Looking back, I wonder: where was God? Why, if Jesus is so loving and full of compassion, wasn't he around? There was the psychologist with her flash cards and Rorschach tests. There was my high school English teacher who encouraged my writing. But from God, not a peep. The Christians I knew seemed to think that all God cared about was that people "accept Jesus into their hearts," remain sexually pure, not drink, and be happy.

I finally did "accept Jesus into my heart" the year after high school. I was longing to fit in and be accepted by the group of Christian friends I had met. Yet the cross, as they explained it to me, did not seem to address my deep experiences of shame and my fear of intimacy.

The significance of the cross, according to my evangelical friends, was as a payment for human sin, which offends God's holiness. According to the rules of divine justice, "the wages of sin is death." Jesus paid our death penalty, offering himself as a sacrifice in our place—a sacrifice he was qualified to make because of his life of perfect obedience. God's anger was turned away from our sin and poured out on Jesus, thus enabling us to be in relationship with God.

In ways I only vaguely understood then, this relationship had its limits. If my shame-filled memories had to be "covered by the blood of Jesus" before God could know me, then God wasn't in the business of truly knowing. God had to kill Jesus because God couldn't stand me as I really am. God's plan for salvation seemed to mirror my plan for dealing with shame: (1) Dig a really big hole and bury it. (2) Present a shiny, perfect exterior and hide the mess.

It's as if Jesus were saying, "Take up your shovel and follow me. If you let others see you as you truly are, they will reject you, and so will my judgmental Father in heaven."

Those shame-filled experiences—the ones that Jesus' blood supposedly covered—didn't feel covered. I had "accepted Jesus," but shame continued to cripple me, and I could never fully believe that God had accepted me. Until, that is, I started to reflect more deeply on the meaning of the cross.

Roman crucifixion was explicitly designed to bring shame upon its victims. Crucifixion was the public execution of a naked person whose crimes were posted on a sign at the top of the cross; death by crucifixion took hours, prolonging the humiliation. A naked body dangling from a wooden cross clearly sent the message, "Anyone who dares to defy the Roman Empire is worthless, not even deserving of a decent death." But there God was, in Jesus. Jesus' death on a cross demonstrates the depths to which humanity will sink. We crucified God, the very God who became incarnate as a tender expression of love and compassion.

Jesus' cry from the cross, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" demonstrates that he experienced first-hand what it means to be rejected. Jesus' cry brings back the dark, painful memories of times when I have screamed heavenward at God, "Where were you?" The crucifixion reveals a God who is willing to be vulnerable, who chooses to bear the pain of shame and rejection. On the cross God meets us in our shame.

But does the cross mean God can save me from the effects of my shame? I've been tripped up repeatedly by the way I was taught to associate the cross with the need to repent of specific sinful acts. I have repented more times than I care to think about, "God, I'm sorry for the abuse I suffered. God, I'm sorry for the way the abuse cripples me. God, I'm sorry that I feel so worthless." Certainly, I do things that require repentance. But God doesn't ask me to repent of the sexual abuse I suffered as a child—nor does he leave me to suffer its consequences alone. Instead, on the cross Jesus enters into my shame and experiences its destructive influence, and then he triumphs over its power in the resurrection. The resurrection is our hope that God will wipe every shame-filled tear from our eyes. The resurrection is a call to every shamed, oppressed, hopeless, scared, messed-up person out there: "He is risen!"

Actually living according to that good news is a process for me. But Jesus offers a window of hope into a new way of living, and so does a little community that has helped me discover his way of healing and liberation from shame. In a small room every Wednesday morning, I meet with three other men. We share about all the messiness, ugliness, and brokenness—and the victories—of our lives. I am free to say, "I looked at some stuff on the Internet that wasn't good for me," or "My marriage feels like it's falling apart," or, "Hey, I had a great day yesterday." I don't need to fear rejection, nor that my friends won't take the time to celebrate small victories with me. The God I encounter in this community is not a big, angry God. Instead, through my friends I encounter the one who lived among us, sharing in the experience of being a vulnerable person; died, sharing in the experience of shame; and rose, offering to share his unquenchable life with all of us.

Encountering this God has taken my focus off myself. Shame drives me inward—I bow my head, afraid to look others in the eye. Love and affirmation give me freedom to welcome others as I take my place as a beloved child in God's house. According to Romans 8:29, Jesus is "the firstborn within a large family." The cross issues an invitation to all who live in isolation, shame, and fear to come, lay down their shovels, and join God's family.

[Brother Adam]

I'm glad that the person is doing better now and has found a deeper, more sincere relationship with Christ then what his evangical friends were able to show him. We each have a journey to follow, and we each have a cross to bear. This life brings no promise of rest, yet a glory greater than all glories waits for us in only a few short moments.

[Mary's Knight, La]

[OFF TOPIC]

Bro. Adam i love the 2nd quote on your sig

[/OFF TOPIC]

umm... nothing to say on topic really....

[phatcatholic]

blaze, can u provide a link to that article please?

[M.SIGGA]

Bro Adam I like the first quote of your sig and I really like your response! but I also think shame exists so we know we are wrong so how can we do without it?

[Brother Adam]

Bro Adam I like the first quote of your sig and I really like your response! but I also think shame exists so we know we are wrong so how can we do without it?

I don't necessarily think we can live without shame anymore than we can live without guilt at certian times in our life. It leads us back home.

[Laudate_Dominum]

I like your signature quotes too Brother Adam.

[Brother Adam]

lol, i don't think its the topic of this thread, but thank you. I was very moved by Michael Moores documentary "Bowling for Columbine". If you haven't seen it, I suggest it. I don't agree with all of his views, but it was certianly very good.

The second quote comes from a Fundamental Baptist college professors/preachers daily emails.