The High Price of Shame

I’m not sure there is anything that tears at the heart and soul like shame. According to the bible, the first thing Adam and Eve felt after eating the forbidden fruit was shame. In other words, it has always been a part of the human condition and it is one of the most terrible of emotions, one that has the power to destroy those who live with it.

I’ve heard it said that feelings are neutral, it’s how we express or not express them that matters. But I have to say shame is definitely an exception. It slowly consumes joy and peace, distorts the personality, and cuts us off from others, and ultimately, God. Shame drives us to hide because we fear rejection and judgment. It is a devastating pain that aches deep within the mind. The terrible truth is suicides have been attempted or successfully committed because of the despair of shame.

I have lived in the grip of shame at times. For years I lived with regret and shame over past sins, ones that I believed were worse than those of others. Somehow, my actions, thoughts and words were unforgivable. And even when I finally understood I was forgiven, the shame lingered on, eating away at my peace of mind like a cancer. I only had brief respites from the anguish that is shame. Just when I felt I had shaken off its chains, I would be shackled again by some sort of trigger, reminding me of a checkered past I am powerless to change.

This was not God’s intent when he created within us a conscience. And the most treasured all written moral codes, the Ten Commandments, was never intended to cause shame. The intent was to prevent shame by laying down the ground rules that, when followed, causes us to live in peace with all, including God. But we fail and in doing so, either seek forgiveness or hide in shame. God’s amazing grace is showered in the former, and grieves over the latter.

I still wrestle with shame on occasion. For me, it’s a conditioned response from years of unfortunate practice. It’s like a heavy, mildewed overcoat that I will slip into now and then. I’ll wear it around inhaling the vile odor, but leave it on because I feel I deserve it because of my past. Jesus came to take the coat off me, and really has done so, it’s just that I dig around for it and when I find it, I put it back on. He hasn’t failed me at all. He did remove it, but it’s still around so I can make a choice: trust God’s forgiveness or live tormented by false shame. Slowly, I am learning to trust. The coat just doesn’t fit anymore.