shame – Southwest Conference Blog

The Sacred Journey from Shame to Pride

by Christopher Schouten, pre-MID

Introduction

Happy Pride Month! Pride evokes different emotions and memories for each of us. For some, it conjures up joyous celebrations in the streets, parks, and bars with friends and loved ones, feeling a sense of community and safety. My first big pride parade in Chicago during my early 20s was transformative. For the first time, I felt like part of the majority, not a marginalized minority. It was both safe and surreal.

Others might question the purpose of Pride, wondering if such marches are still necessary or if Pride itself is a sin in a Christian context. These are valid questions. Let’s explore them together, starting with a biblical perspective.

Sinful Pride vs. Righteous Pride

The Bible contains numerous statements about sinful pride, such as Proverbs 16:18, which warns, “Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall.” C.S. Lewis described pride as the “anti-God” state, severing the spirit from God’s life-giving presence.

However, there is also mention of “righteous pride.” Paul the Apostle, for example, speaks of a healthy kind of pride in Galatians 6:4, “Each one should test their own actions. Then they can take pride in themselves alone, without comparing themselves to someone else.” He also expresses pride in the Corinthians in 2 Corinthians 7:4, “I have great confidence in you; I take great pride in you. I am greatly encouraged; in all our troubles my joy knows no bounds.”

Righteous pride encourages us to recognize and celebrate our God-given talents and achievements while remaining humble and grateful. It fosters healthy self-esteem and motivates us to use our gifts in service to others and to glorify God.

The Impact of Shame on LGBTQIA+ Individuals

For the LGBTQIA+ community, developing a sense of righteous pride can be particularly challenging. Growing up in a society that often condemns or marginalizes our identities can lead to a pervasive sense of shame and invalidation. This shame teaches us to hide our true selves and diminish our light, stifling our personal growth and depriving the world of our unique contributions.

The cost of this shame is significant. According to the Trevor Project, LGBTQIA+ youth are more than twice as likely to feel suicidal and over four times as likely to attempt suicide compared to their heterosexual peers.

Personal Experience

My journey from shame to pride has been long and arduous. I knew I was gay at 12, but the lack of positive representation and support made me hide my true self. In high school, I stayed in the closet, living in secrecy and shame, finding solace only in the acceptance of a few friends in my UCC church choir.

College brought newfound freedom and acceptance, but the damage was done. The shame I internalized in my youth continued to drive me, leading to overachievement as a coping mechanism. I sought validation through academic excellence, career success, and various accomplishments, hoping to prove my worth and avoid confronting my shame.

Overachievement and Addiction

Author Alan Downs, in “The Velvet Rage,” explains that shame often leads to overachievement and addiction in LGBTQIA+ individuals. I excelled in academics and career, learned multiple languages, and held leadership positions, all to avoid shame. Despite my successes, a deep sense of unworthiness lingered, manifesting in disproportionate anger and rage when triggered.

Addiction is another common coping mechanism. LGBTQIA+ individuals are more likely to struggle with substance abuse and process addictions like sex, gambling, or eating disorders. These addictions are often driven by the need to numb the pain of shame and seek solace.

The Role of God’s Grace

Healing from deep-seated shame and reclaiming our true selves involves embracing the transformative power of a higher power. Isaiah 43:1-4 reminds us that we are not defined by shame or judgment but are precious and honored in God’s sight. God’s unconditional love provides a foundation upon which we can rebuild our sense of self-worth.

Personal Growth Work

While God’s love is central to our journey from shame to pride, we also have personal responsibilities:

Self-Reflect: Spend time in prayer and meditation, asking God to reveal your true passions and callings.
Embrace Vulnerability: Share your authentic self with others to build supportive connections.
Find Your Passion: Identify and pursue activities that bring you joy and are true expressions of your God-given essence.
Be Your Authentic Self: Work to be your true self in all situations, rejecting the urge to hide your light.
Choose Love: Embrace God’s love and extend it to your inner child, fostering healing and self-acceptance.

Conclusion

If you are brave enough to begin this journey of healing from shame, you deserve to live in pride every day. The journey from shame to pride is a testament to the power of God’s healing love and a unique work of art that will be your legacy to the world. Be blessed and reassured that your Creator and this community of love will be with you on your journey.

The Shame Agreement

by Davin Franklin-Hicks

I have shame.
I have shame that abides.
I have shame that abides and demands.
I have shame that abides and demands and destroys.
I have shame. As do you. As does most of humanity.

I wasn’t born with shame.
I was born with a tender vulnerability that deserved nurture and grace.
I was born with a knowing in my heart that I was worthy of love.
I was born with the audacious spirit to experience need and develop a loving reliance for those who met my need.
As were you.
As was and is often humanity.

Yet I have this shame and it seems to think I put out a classified ad in which it responded and somehow became my silent partner in the affairs of my life. It keeps pointing to some agreement it’s made with me.

We choose an interesting set of words when we wish shame for others: “Shame on you!” Shame ON you. The burden, the weight, the overwhelming nature of shame cloaking us and seeping in. Once it is on us, it is in us. Shame is a rather manipulative behavior modification tool that is often abusive as it causes lasting harm to the mind and spirit of the person being cloaked with it. Shame does the dirty work for some pretty hard feeling states like loathing, self-hatred, and hatred of others. It prepares the heart in such a manner that these other parts get to storm right in, no guard on duty, everything valuable open and exposed. And we are robbed of our precious life yet again.

We really oughta move.

I watched a documentary about September 11th not too long ago. A man was telling his story about surviving the attack. He painted a vivid picture of emerging from death all around and described being covered in dust, his mind dazed, his face a blank slate as he went deeper and deeper within to stand the death outside of himself. He said an officer approached him and said something to the effect of “It’s okay. What you are experiencing is PTSD. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.” He did not respond out loud, but internally he remembered thinking, “How can it be ‘post’ when it is still happening?”

Besides this exchange being an object lesson into why lay folks shouldn’t attempt to diagnose mental health and feeling states, it is a powerful image that I would like for us to hold for a bit here as we maneuver through. The survivor of 9/11 was cloaked in thick dust and dazed. He did not choose to be cloaked in dust. He did not invite being cloaked in dust, but cloaked in dust is what he was living in, sitting in, wiping off. The dust found any porous part of the body to invade. And invade it did. He had this dust in his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears for a long time to come.

The survivor’s thick cloak of disaster seemed to have been mixed with a hue of shame. “Why did I survive? Why did they die? I had to deserve this in some way. What did I do that made this happen?”

Ever since I started thinking about this essay the song “Fame” has been running through my head, replaced with “Shame”, of course. “Shame! I’m gonna live forever!” Well, that’s the opposite of remotely true in any way, shape or form. My experience with shame is it stifles and burdens, it creeps and takes over. Shame is lonely, deadly, and common.

Shame is devious and tricky. Shame has loads of costumes that keep us from noticing it. Its favorite thing to get dressed up as is morality, while contrition is a close second. It wears these long enough to get in the door and then like a Scooby Doo bad guy, the mask gets removed and low and behold, it’s that shame again! And it would have gotten away with it if it hadn’t been for your meddling, discerning spirit.

Let’s walk a bit more with the survivor of 9/11 covered in the second skin of dust. You get one side; I’ll get the other. He shouldn’t be alone right now. We can play a game of “What If” as we walk with him away from the rubble and the madness.

What if shame has absolutely nothing to do with God?
What if shame is unnecessary and a futile exercise that doesn’t mean a darn thing about our love for and belief in God?
What if shame was not a requirement of a spirit-filled life and is actually a lousy substitute for things like conviction and morality?
What if the cloaking of shame divides us from each other and takes over with diligence and fear, essentially snuffing out the love and life that is our birthright?

We’ll go ahead and leave the survivor we have been walking with as he is getting passed onto the people who can help him. Spoiler alert: He is going to be well again.

You and me, though, let’s keep walking. Let’s keep talking.

The rubble I find myself sifting through nowadays came from the sexual assault that happened to me not that long ago. It’s heavy to sift through this, especially when each rock I pick up has a phrase written on it: “This was your fault. Shame on you!” Toss that aside. “You should be ashamed of yourself.” Toss that aside and yet the rubble seems endless. Shame works against the sifting of the rubble and paves the way for a lot of hopelessness to bound through into my brokenness.

What caused your rubble?

The rubble happens. The cloaking of shame happens. Most of the time, this happens to us and we do not bring it on ourselves, it happens as a part of being a global citizen on this planet. It is largely unfair and it is deeply grievous to have anyone go through the destruction of self that happens with shame at the helm. We don’t get a choice initially. It just is and we can’t deal with it when it is still happening because we are putting everything we have into surviving. We need some distance and stability from what caused the shame so we can truly start the work of healing.

And this is where it can get better for us.

When I feel shame and accept it inside as valid, I am saying yes to the harm within or outside of me that uses the tool of shame to break me in some way. I am creating a Shame Agreement with Harm. It’s as good as sitting at a table with Harm across from me, handing me a contract that says, “You are nothing. You are broken. You are alone. You are worthless. Now if you agree to these conditions, please sign here, here, and here. Initial here.” Once that is done I can hold my breath and survey this own private hell I just became co-owner in. What a horrible investment I made. I need some solid heart space management. Where’s the Suze Orman of the heart when I need her?

If we can opt in, we can also opt out. And my life right now is about that very thing. I want out of this Shame Agreement. It’s a fraud.

I have a helpful (to me) image about creating space for shame in my life. I hope you can take and use it if you need to. Since I was young, I knew how to play darts. I spent a lot of time in bars due to family members working in them so I got a little seasoned at darts. I remember the day the dartboard at the Cow Pony was replaced by one of those digital dart boards with plastic darts that you have to throw hard enough to stick in the tiny holes riddled all over the board. You have that image in your mind? Great. I picture that dart board as my heart space, my feeling state, my tender soul. If shame is the dart and it is thrown at me, it will only stick if there is something for it to penetrate. If I prepare my heart space in such a way that the intrusion of shame doesn’t have space to land, it simply bounces off.

Our cloak of shame can be washed off. Our shame agreement can be voided. Our shame filled heart space can be made whole. As in all things, I turn to love.

I have love.
I have love that abides.
I have love that abides and invites.
I have love that abides and invites and heals.
I have love. As do you. As does most of humanity.

And there just isn’t any shame in that.

Advice for Myself in Difficult Times

by Karen Richter

As I pondered what to write this week for the blog, I was reading a lot. And much of what I was reading was, at least on the surface, contradictory. Within the same five minutes, I would read “You’re not doing enough. No one is doing enough,” and “Rest and take care of yourself. You are enough.” I like to look for moments of spiritual whiplash, because they seem like moments of growth… and these last few weeks have been a whiplash bonanza. I meandered around the edges of several different writing topics, but everything seemed to be already said, better and more eloquently, by someone more qualified than I.

So I offer this little listicle… imagine that you are eavesdropping on an inner conversation, as I try to assimilate the messages of this heartbreaking July.

There’s a difference between guilt and shame.

This is a helpful distinction for me, from the work of Brene Brown. Guilt is that feeling you get when you do something that’s out of step with your values. Guilt self-talk sounds like, “I did X but I believe Y. People who believe Y don’t do X. I want to be a person who acts consistently with Y! This feels bad.” Healthy guilt prompts us to act with integrity and wholeness. Shame self-talk is stronger and more difficult to experience. It sounds like, “I did X because I’m a bad person. People who do X are not worthy of love and respect.” Shame might result in temporary changes in behavior, but they don’t last.

In this difficult July, I’ve sometimes needed to sit with guilt and feel those difficult feelings. Twelve step spirituality talks about a ‘fearless moral inventory.’ Many of us (read: white folks) need to do some fearless reflection on race and privilege.

But as much as is possible, stay away from shame. ☺

Take care. Sleep. Move your body. Eat healthy food.

I’m treading carefully here, friends. Recently, I’ve heard the expression ‘Put on your own oxygen mask before assisting others…” and it feels like an excuse for selfishness. I hear friends talk about Netflix and shopping as self-care and it sounds like a cop out.

So the questions are always What is valid self-care for me? How do I balance care of those closest to me and care of the world? How will I know when it’s time to step out of the cocoon of self-care and back into the hurting world?

Tentatively, I am reaching toward a rule that if a self-care tactic gives me energy to help others, that’s a good tactic. If a self-care tactic feeds an unhealthy dependence (social media, obsession with self-image, materialism), it’s not so good. The corollary to this rule is to be gentle with myself and others.

Helpful stuff

Reach out. Listen. Help.

Last weekend, about a dozen of us gathered at Shadow Rock. In the days and hours after the shootings last week (Alton Sterling, Philando Castille, and the officers in Dallas), many in our congregation expressed a need to be together. So despite the valid self-care of our July Sabbath, we opened the sanctuary to sing, talk, pray, and comfort one another.

And it was a good thing. But there’s a reaching out that’s beyond our comfort zone, a reaching out to people with backgrounds, cultures, faiths, and experiences different from our own. It’s hard and holy work. And it’s in this part of the list – #3 – that I feel most humbled and need to hear my own advice the most.

Helpful stuff

Love matters.

You know all those begats in the Bible (I’m talkin’ about you, Exodus chapter 6 and Matthew chapter 1)? Genealogies are often thought of as the most boring parts of scripture. But think of this: our spiritual ancestors were parents. And for a lot of them, that’s ALL WE KNOW ABOUT THEM. And parenting in 2016 is hard work. If nothing else, everyone on the Internet and IRL seems to find tremendous satisfaction in telling you what you’re doing wrong.

But it’s so important. Raising kind and brave children and supporting parents who are trying to do the same may be the only thing I do with lasting impact.

Helpful stuff

And #4 gives me the most hope. All around me, I see adults treating children with respect. I see parents trying to parent peacefully. I see our culture slowly, slowly become more welcoming to all kinds of families and kids.

So, so all the parents out there, I SEE YOU. And you’re doing great.

Listen to your yoga teacher: When in doubt, soften.

Breathe. Center yourself. Find some muscle to relax. Repeat as necessary.

Bearing Witness, Feeling Helpless, and Straining to Hear

by Davin Franklin-Hicks

TRIGGER WARNING: This article is about sexual assault and may be triggering to survivors.

It is my lived experience that silence can be healing, peaceful and life affirming. There is something powerful about it. When I take intentional silence, usually through prayer and meditation, I notice that as the noise quiets outside of me, the constant chatter within me follows. Chosen silence is a gift we can give ourselves.

If silence is not chosen, though, it feels very different. This is especially true if the silence is being forced on us following rape.

Forced silence is deafening to the most vulnerable places within.

Forced silence creeps into every single part of the soul.

Forced silence is isolating, shame inducing and death dealing.

Forced silence makes the constant ache within amplified and reinforces humanity’s greatest fear: that we are completely and utterly alone.

Forced silence kills.

I lived in S. Africa and taught seventh grade when I was a young adult. I loved the village we lived in called Willowvale. One school break, many of my fellow teachers took trips to game parks and such. I stayed behind with another teacher named Kendra. We got along awesomely. We watched reruns of shows like Christy, Touched By An Angel, all good missionary fare. We read a lot and talked a lot.

One night we were sitting in the TV area. It was very late. We were both night owls. We were reminiscing, telling stories from our lives. It was a quiet, beautiful night. We were enjoying each other’s company when suddenly we heard a woman screaming.

Have you ever heard what sounded like someone screaming as you were just going through your day or evening, feeling safe in your home? You stop. All the hair on your body stands up. A chill runs through you and you listen so closely to see if you would hear that sound again. Most of the time, you won’t hear it again. You won’t know what it was, but you also can’t shake it. This was us in that moment.

We strained to hear again and we did. We heard it again only this time it was louder and the woman was crying. It was so disorienting. She could have been right by our door or she could be many houses away. Then we heard the man. And her screams and cries were even worse. She was being raped.

Kendra and I stared at each other, pleadingly. Helplessness overwhelmed us and we began to cry. We began to rock, our knees to our chest, closest we could come to fetal position without the vulnerability of lying on the floor.

These two 19-year olds alone in a land not their own with no access to any emergency services and no ability to intervene. We sobbed as she sobbed. We just couldn’t take it. Holding onto each other, praying it would end that she would not get hurt further. That he would leave her alone.

Then silence. No noise at all. Nothing. We sat still, straining to hear. It was surreal. Our ears had just been filled with a horrible sound of violation and now here was stillness. How can that be? What do we do now?

And that’s always the question: what action do we take.

I have been meditating and praying on whether or not I would share something with you in this format. The part that makes me pause is fear and shame.

I cannot and will not make decisions based on fear and shame. And that is why I am moving forward in telling you now.

132 days ago, just after Christmas, I was brutally raped. Seeing those words I just wrote and knowing that they are about me is absolutely surreal and awful. How can this be? It still baffles me. How is this my life?

Those closest to me know the intimate details of all of this and I am going to honor my own heart and keep it that way. The details are actually irrelevant. The crushing weight of shame, anger, self-hatred is what is relevant. And it is what is common. And it is what makes me continue this piece I am writing.

Not telling anyone after a sexual assault is very common. Who wants people to know that level of violation? Who wants to have their life on display to be picked apart and judged? Who wants to brace themselves for the inevitable defense of the perpetrator who claims it wasn’t rape and that the survivor wanted it, even liked it?

No one.

The telling is so hard. The comments people make after you tell them can be really hard too. Did you know that it is a common internal defense to blame ourselves after this happens? We often turn on ourselves and tear apart all of the ways we screwed up. It is something our psyche does to make us feel better. I know that doesn’t make much sense on first reading.

The thing is, if we can convince ourselves that it was our fault, we develop a belief that we had more power than we did. We cannot bear the thought that we were truly and completely rendered powerless. It is too much to take, this awareness of our fragility and vulnerability. It also gives us the belief that if we were part of the reason it happened then, it means we can make sure it never happens again.

This is the same mechanism when friends and family try to apply fault to the survivor. Acting as though it was the survivor’s fault means it can be controlled.

This is a cognitive distortion. We do it all the time. It makes us feel safe. It is not safe, though. Not at all. This practice leaves us separated and alone, filled with self-hatred, loss and shame.

We live in a rape culture that teaches our girls, women and anyone not living within prescribed heteronormative gender roles that it is up to them not to get raped. And if you are a man who expresses masculinity and you get raped, our culture tells you that you had better shut up about it or suffer the consequences. Only a few seriously out of touch people will actually say those words out loud. The rest of us just co-sign it in small, nuanced ways. That is more insidious, more painful, more life ending than the ridiculous person on the microphone shouting ideas that drip with bias and hate. At least we can see that person coming a mile away.

We rarely see it when it is spoken through the mundane moments of life in the voice of our parents, siblings, teachers, preachers, roommates, friends and mentors. The forum isn’t the floor of the senate for this process. The forum is the dinner table, church service, home room, college dorms, family gatherings. How easily rape culture can hide among the seemingly innocuous words, moments and intentions with those we love and trust most.

I do it too. You do it too. We all do it because many of us are unlearning this rape culture we are in as we go. It is slippery, it is clingy and it is insatiable.

The night I sat with Kendra in our home in S. Africa, we listened to a fellow human being suffer. And we suffered. And we bore witness. She did not know we heard. She did not know we cried. She did not know those long minutes she was violated would one day end up in this piece of writing that you are reading right now and possibly assist someone in breaking the silence she likely never could break.

That being said, it is not enough for someone to be able to break the silence and the alienation sexual assault brings. She/he/they need someone to listen to their shaky voiced courage and their incredible grief. It is so hard to hear that pain and sorrow, to bear witness to trauma and deep loss.

As a listener, you may feel like you aren’t able to tolerate the raw pain of it all. It’s hard for me too. I think it should be hard to hear, though, because it is horrific for the person to endure.

While your heart and mind may curl into the fetal position and rock back and forth, I urge you to still listen when the silence is broken. There will be deep pain, injury and sadness that you are bearing witness to. This pain, injury and sadness is as true for the survivor in a small village in S. Africa as it is for the survivor sitting next to you in church on Sundaymorning. It just really hurts so deeply.

It’s unsettling to witness this pain. It can cut through a peaceful moment, chilling you to the core and leaving you with such helplessness to make it better. It hurts. It hurts deeply. It feels awful. I know all of this firsthand.

It may not be fair for me to ask this of you, but I am going to anyway. In the midst of all those things your heart will feel when you are bearing witness, I ask you to sit still. I ask you to feel what you feel. Most importantly, though, I ask you to stay open and strain to hear.