Captive No More

I get out of the car at church. I notice smiling faces all arrayed in their Sunday best. That’s when I feel its hot breath on the back of my neck as it leans in and whispers in my ear. I listen and obey; it’s all I know to do. This thing looms large over me, a constant presence in my life; it’s always with me, it’s always watching, it’s always ready to pounce. I have moments where I can escape its grasp, but it’s not long before it grabs hold of me again. It hurts when I end up back in its clutches; it knows exactly where the wounds are to reinsert those razor-sharp talons.

When I’m asked what’s bothering me, I snap back “nothing.” The tone of the word is sharp; not for the purpose of causing harm, but from a place of pain. If you were perceptive enough, you would have seen me wincing as the word shot out. This Thing that shall not be named keeps shifting its presence around me, positioning itself to keep me in check.

It loves to come to church with me.

We find our way to our Sunday school class. We find our seats as far away from the teacher as we can. I’m trying to hide; I would prefer to just be invisible. Here is this monstrosity hanging over me; I begin to think, “what if someone sees it?” That’s when I feel my pulse quickening. I whisper that I feel off, and we may need to go home after class.

The teacher opens in prayer and then has us turn to…

Mark 7:14-23 “And he called the people to him again and said to them, “Hear me, all of you, and understand: There is nothing outside a person that by going into him can defile him, but the things that come out of a person are what defile him.” And when he had entered the house and left the people, his disciples asked him about the parable. And he said to them, “Then are you also without understanding? Do you not see that whatever goes into a person from outside cannot defile him, since it enters not his heart but his stomach, and is expelled?” (Thus he declared all foods clean.) And he said, “What comes out of a person is what defiles him. For from within, out of the heart of man, come evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, coveting, wickedness, deceit, sensuality, envy, slander, pride, foolishness. All these evil things come from within, and they defile a person.””

I hear the word “delicious” come from the mouth of the thing. I hear a wispy, throaty, chuckle, emanating from it. Then all I hear in my ear is the whispering; the twisting of the words, the voice inside my head.

“See, you are defiled, Jesus says so himself. You are a worthless piece of garbage, that’s what you are,” he hisses. The venom is starting to show on his fangs as he goes in for the strike. Its bite is hard and has my mind racing.

Everything fades out, the venom is working, it’s designed to recall the moment the brute arrived and how he grew into what he is today. Like one of those old home movie reels, except it’s not me who’s the star, I’m forced to watch as events unfold, the things I did and things that were perpetuated against me. With each scene, this thing is getting bigger and growing, like some twisted first day of school picture compilation.

I’m snapped back to reality as I hear the teacher closing in prayer.

Heading towards the door to go home, I see the pastor. I am convinced I’m exposed. The pastor greets us, and my mind is racing. Surely he sees it. This man of God will see it. The Holy Spirit will tell him. My heart is thumping so hard right now, but he doesn’t. He smiles and turns to greet someone else.

How did he not see!

My insides are shaking. How, oh, how I wish he would have seen me… seen it. Maybe he would have been able to help rid me of it. I say, “We need to stay now since the pastor greeted us.” I feel bad enough already. I don’t want the pastor to think ill of us for skipping out on the service.

The first part of the service wasn’t enough to engage me. There was some singing, offering passed around, and some other stuff. I admit I was distracted by my constant companion, oh, wretched thing.

Walking to the pulpit, he says, “Turn to:”

Hebrews 12:1-2 “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, 2 looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.”

The Pastor, in the pulpit looks different now. I don’t know why, but something is changed. He has this presence about him, an air of authority. He looks out over the crowd, scanning the faces. He looks down at his open Bible and then back up… “Whoa, whoa, whoa, is he looking at me?” I feel the heat rising out from my collar. Surely not. He can’t be looking at me, but it sure looks like he is. What am I going to do? This is bad. He says one word. He says it with an intensity and tone that causes it to echo off the walls.

“SHAME”

It hit like a punch from a heavyweight boxer. It was like nothing I’ve experienced before. I reacted physically to it; it made me sit up in my seat and lean in. Something else curiously happened in that moment. There was a physical reaction from that fiend lurking nearby. Its reaction was peculiar; I’ve never seen it that way. Like it was a toddler messing with something it shouldn’t have been, and its name was called to get its attention…the “I’ve been caught look.”

I quickly turned back to focus my attention on the words the pastor was delivering. The pastor shared what shame is. He took us back to Genesis, to the garden. Where shame first started to have a part in this world. He explained that our nakedness was once perfect and acceptable in the presence of each other and of God. But now in sin, our nakedness was a shame to us. We no longer were comfortable around others in our nakedness, so we covered ourselves. In our shame, we hid from God. We were separated from him.

But God, in his infinite mercy, gave them new clothes made of animal skins. A sacrifice, a price to be paid to cover our shame. He continued through the Old Testament, pointing out words like unclean and defiled. How they were associated with shame. They were terms that described separation, from community, from worship, and from communion with God.

With rapt attention to the message, I never even noticed what was happening to the beast. When I turned my attention to it, I noticed it looked different now. It didn’t look so big as it once had. Maybe it’s because I now knew it by its name: Shame.

Turning back to the word which was now open in my lap, I’m following along as the pastor, like a guide that’s taking us on a walking tour of the scriptures, continues to point out shame. He brings us to the tabernacle and then to the temple. Where he points out the things that God deems Holy and through the sacrifices how even now there is a blood price to pay to cover the shame, and our separation for another year.

Then we move into the New Testament. He tells of Jesus Christ. His shameful birth, his birth announcement to a shameful class of people. His call of men to be his disciples who were of shameful reputations. His dining with the shamed and outcast. The healings of the unworthy.

Then we stand before the cross. The ultimate symbol of shame in their day. Even the old prophets said, “cursed is everyone who hangs on a tree.” Christ took the shame that was poured on him, separation from Israel, the Romans, his disciples, the people, and even the thieves on the cross. But most of all, his Father, “my God, my God, why has thou forsaken me,” was his cry. He drank the cup of wrath and became the blood sacrifice to cleanse us. To restore our right standing with God. To give us a royal garment, without spot or blemish. To perfect his bride to share in perfect intimacy.

He shares with us the foot-washing passage. Peter says, “Wash my whole body.” Christ responds,

John 13:10 Jesus said to him, “The one who has bathed does not need to wash, except for his feet, but is completely clean. And you are clean…”

As a believer, we may find ourselves dirty from sin and the shame it may bring upon us. Christ says, if you are clean, you can’t be considered unclean anymore. He has washed us with a living water. What’s been consecrated as holy is reserved for honor. Confess your sins and let him have your shame.

The invitation call comes, and I look around for that burden called Shame. He has tried to hide himself from me. As I reach for him, he lashes out. Like a cornered, scared animal, he is vicious, all puffed up, fangs ready to bite down. I drag him to the altar, and as we get there, he gives one last attempt to bite me. He successfully lands the blow, venom courses through my veins, and the world starts to go black as the reel starts to spin up.

Then out of nowhere, a light shines through. I feel a hand on my back. I feel a presence around me. It’s the pastor. He’s on his knees with me. He says “I am here for you. I will help slay whatever this beast is that’s got a hold of you.”

He says, “you’ve got to name it and give it to Christ. It’s gonna hurt, but you can’t get rid of it by using its common name of Shame. You have to say the words.” The reel still plays in my mind, although it’s dim due to the rising light building in me. I see it. The venom is more of a blessing now, recalling to my mind the things that brought shame into my life, the way I used pornography, when I would drink myself into oblivion, and when my actions would disgrace my family.

As the reel played in my mind, all the times that Shame reminded me of why I could never be better, I confessed those to God. Chain after chain being broken, heart being restored. It is Christ’s words echoing in my mind that was once Shame’s playground.

“So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.” (John 8:36)

With those words, the sword was drawn, and the creature that had such a tight grip on me was slain today. Shame lies there, cut to pieces, at the foot of the cross.

Photo by Hussain Badshah on Unsplash