Shame and Romans 8:1

Hi again, friends. At least, I'm pretty sure you're all friends. Most, if not all, of the people who read my blog happen to be friends with me on Facebook. So, I guess "friends" is a good greeting.

This was another week of ups and downs for me. I was thinking about today and I've realized that, so far at least, my college years have been themed with issues I struggle with. Last year, I felt like I struggled a lot with Anger. They seemed to follow me and drove me insane while I battled them. No, I haven't completely won. I'm the son of a redhead, and have a temper to match. However, I do my best to conceal it under the guise of a good Christian college student. And I'm good at that. But I digress. The problem that I seem to be facing this year, along with Jealousy, a crossover demon from last year, is Shame. And not just being ashamed of having embarrassing moments of stupidity, or of smelling like a pig when it gets too hot out. I mean true, blue Shame.

I won't go into minute details, partially to protect the innocent and guilty involved (me), and also to avoid gossipers and other people I know who read this blog finding out stuff I'd honestly rather they not know. But I confronted Shame this week. Or rather Shame came and tried to have his way with me.

I was forced, or maybe compelled by the Holy Spirit, to confess to a friend that I had sinned against them. So, I wrote them an email, since I knew I needed to confess and I had no idea if I'd see this person anytime soon. Later that day, they sought me ought. We talked about rather inconsequential things. I could tell they hadn't read the email. But during our conversation, I found myself unable to look into their eyes. I was so ashamed of myself I couldn't bear to look into their face because I knew I had wronged them. I wanted them to leave because I couldn't stand to be in their presence. I felt I didn't deserve to be there.

No, I didn't break down and tell them the truth that I had wronged them. I just asked them to read their email when they left. Yes, I'm a coward. but I'm also a writer. And Everything I said was already perfectly said in that email.

So I ended up sitting in my room waiting for their reply. Shame overwhelmed me. I wanted to crawl inside a very small hole and die. (They were a very good friend.) Let me tell you; Shame, just like anger, can be a tough task-master. I felt hopeless, unworthy to be forgiven.

And I know this all seems extremely mellow-dramatic, but if there's one thing you readers must understand about me is that I value my friends extremely highly. I become fiercely protective of them, and if anyone dares trespass against them, I get very, very angry. Sometimes that's a good thing. Sometimes I just a) scare my friends, or b) end up embarrassed I couldn't keep a better control of my own emotions, since I apparently blew up over something rather small and inconsequential. Often they both happen. But that's beside the point. So, now you know how angry I get over other people harming my friends, imagine how terrible I felt that the culprit who had sinned against my friend was none other than myself.

My friend was more than willing to forgive me, and I, for once, accepted it without argument. (I'm really good at arguing against myself and trying to prove how unforgivable I am. At least, I try to be good. So far, I haven't succeeded in persuading someone not to forgive me. Ironic, huh?)

But shame wasn't (and isn't) through with me. I still struggle with it. Those of you who have read many of my blogs might have discovered that a good, Christian boy I am not.While I have never done drugs, smoked or had sex outside of marriage, I have smaller, hidden sins. Sins no one would know or even think about if they were to look at me. Or spend a little time with me, mostly because I don't open up to individuals easily. Funny enough, it's easier for me to confess my problems to a computer screen or audience than it is to talk with someone one-on-one about how I'm doing.

But those aforementioned sins have left their marks, some of them physical. And the shame still lasts. Still, still lasts. But there's something different about this year. it's almost like God is specifically trying to tell me to forget the shame. Easier said than done, let me assure you. But throughout the last two months Romans 8 keeps showing up. First, I have a small Bible study with friends at the beginning of the school year. The passage: Romans 8. We didn't finish it though. Then, during "Spiritual Renewal Week," the speaker decides to unpack Romans chapter 8. Now, after Parent's Weekend, when I decided I would try to help a friend by starting the bidding on some artwork of theirs, I own a piece of photography titled "Romans 8:1." (I lost the gamble that other people would bid on it.)

However, here's a bit of a conundrum. I know that Romans 8:1 says that there is no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus, but when I sit here, steeping in shame over the past and how my past has affected me, the words ring hollow. I struggle to know them as true for me, not just as true for the average Christian.

I want to know the truth that, not only am I forgiven, but that I don't have to be ashamed of what I've done. I don't have to be burdened because I sinned. And I'll admit the main problem is that while I know this intellectually, while I know this is true in my head, my heart, the seat of my emotions and thoughts, my soul does not recognize the truth. I pray God heals my heart and shows it the light. For now, I struggle to keep it out of the darkness Shame hides behind.

One day I will be free of Shame. One day, I know I will know the truth and I won't question it. I hope that that day comes very soon. Shame is a heavy burden to bear.

But holy is the Lord, who holds my heart, and my destiny in His hands. And even in my shame I will praise His name.

God, Give Me Strength

Okay, I guess I owe all you readers another apology. I haven't been posting regularly like I promised myself I would. I know, that's not a real big thing. I mean, it's not like I have a huge fan-base waiting with bated breath just for my next blog post. But I know that many blogs are started, but not regularly kept, and often just abandoned. I don't want to do that, but be faithful and do what I know I should.

So, I do owe you an apology. I guess I also owe one to myself. I made the promise to myself and broke it. And I know this seems all too personal and silly. After all, as long as I post who cares what resolutions I break or so on and so fifth. (I know it's supposed to be "forth", but it's my own small joke. Inflation goes up still, so why not use it in words, where number hide all the time?)

But one of the reasons I don't post very often I guess is because I'm not sure what to say. I don't know what you, my readers, need or want to hear, so I simply keep my mouth shut. That and dealing with homework tends to keep me on my toes, like it or not. I know, I signed up for this. Worse, I'm paying for it. But hey, I will persevere, somehow.

I guess one thing I will share with you all is my ongoing struggle with identity. Specifically, my identity in Christ.

Since I'm in college, I've been taking time to somewhat reinvent myself, try new things and figure out what is me and what is just me posing as someone else. I try to determine what I like, as opposed to copying what my friends like or what my family enjoys. And along with that, I'm trying to figure out who I am when my family's not looking over my shoulder. I'm trying to sort out all the baggage that came with me, both physical and emotional,(I'll admit, I moved in the end of August, and I still have a mess lurking in my closet because I haven't sorted and organized everything, though I know what all I brought) and figure out who I am besides just how I feel. I'm trying to look beyond what I feel to know what's true, regardless of emotion.

In that process, as friends have reminded me time and time again, I have to remember who Christ says I am. I can't say how grateful I am to my friends for their patience with me in this matter. Amazing I know. Born and raised in the church, having read the entire Bible through a couple times, and having gone to both a private Christian school and College, I still wrestle with knowing who God says I am and making that an integral part of my identity.

All too often I have this painful tendency to believe lies that have embedded themselves in my ID, like a parasite or a computer virus. It's almost as though whenever I'm faced with a challenge or become scared, I retreat to my old false self, the one that quivers in a corner, afraid of being discovered. Afraid of everything.

And living in fear hurts. Running and hiding hurts. I don't know how many times I have missed things that would have been fun and amazing because I decided "it would be best for everyone if I disappeared." Because I thought I needed to exit out of people's lives like an actor in a theater. And while doing that, I made myself lonely. I made myself be alone.

And one of the things I'll admit I fear desperately is being alone, living without friends or family. A picture comes to my mind of living in a large wood house, having every material thing I ever wanted, yet looking out the window of a dark library room to see dark clouds and driving rain outside. Inside the house is only one living soul: me. Only me. And that's how it always is. That's how it always will be.

That scares me because I can't stand the thought of living alone, my life wasting away because I deemed it "my lot" to be alone. Or worse, I found a way to drive off all of my friends and am alone because of my own foolish actions.

You want to know something ironic? That same house and solitude used to be a dream I adored. I thought all I wanted was peace and solitude to write. All I thought I needed was an office, a library and a large house and I would be happy. People? Who needs them? They'll only get in my way.

Now I see that such a life is empty, truly empty. If I gain all I thought would make me happy yet have no one to share it with, what have I accomplished?

Nada. Nothing.

And yes, I have gone off on a tangent, but I'm good at that. Really good. But to get back to my point, I struggle with not retreating back to the man I used to be. I try to remember the new man God created me to become. I don't exactly know who this man is. I know that I want to be him though. I hope that God will give me the strength to persevere to become that man He created me to be.

I wonder who his identity is. Or rather in Whom is his identity. Okay, maybe I don't wonder. I know. But I really desperately hope he's better at remembering his true identity that I am. I hope I become him. I hope God says, "Well done, my good and faithful servant."

I admit that's what I want most. To hear God says he's proud of me.

Hopefully, I'll hear that someday.

Holy is the Lord, and most worthy of praise.

Doubt

No, this is not about the play or the movie, though they do deal with this topic extremely well. This one will end up being a bit more writer-ly focused. Mostly because the subject I want to talk about has a lot to do with me as a writer. However, maybe the rest of you readers can identify with my struggles.

Doubts plague me. They gnaw at my heels, lunge at my hands, and attack my shoulders. They whisper in my ears, shroud my eyes, and claw at my heart. I fight them, but the sheer numbers makes me want to give up the fight. Alongside doubt is Fear, goading and giving Doubt voice. They tell me things I wish I couldn't hear. But hear them I do. And though I wrestle against them, I cannot help but wonder, what if they're right?

I see the people around me, look at the writers I call my friends. All of them are so accomplished. They fit everything a writer should be. They're successful, organized, lauded, influential. I'm anything but. I am the least among my peers. I do not have success. I do not influence. I am certainly not organized. And praise comes from my friends and family, which shows how little effect I've had on the world at large.

Of course, what should I expect? The most I've published is a single, shoddy short story, a few book reviews, and a small devotion. Not the writings of a successful author. Yet I see the people around me, the ones praised highly by my professors, and who succeed at everything they do. I, on the other hand, seem only barely able to break even. I try hard, but my efforts aren't quite good enough.

I want to be like them, but I wonder if that's even possible. I wonder if I'm good enough to be a writer. The problem is that writing is the only thing I know, the only thing I enjoy. The only profession I could use my skills in and make any type of living. And the only job I could truly and wholeheartedly love. I feel like it's what I am supposed to do, but how can I do it and glorify God when my works seems like nothing? As though what I try to do is never going to meet the standards set for me? Can God use a barely successful person like me for His purpose?

It all just keeps circling in my head and one question repeats like a refrain in my head: Am I good enough?

And still the battle rages. Some voices trying to encourage me, others reminding me that I have failed to be who I wish I could be. And it seems that if the bad writers get "weeded out" from the good in the degree program I'm in, how long until I am tossed into the trash among the weeds? But other voices argue that I am a good writer and give me reasons why this is true. And the battle rages on.

How I wish someone would come to me and say, "I believe in you." if I decide to be honest to myself, I wish a specific person would tell me that.  And I wish I could hear God say it to me.

I wish I could just defeat these doubts. I wish I had confidence. But doubts are my constant companion.

God How can this small voice praise you? How can I give You glory when there is no one to listen? Show me how.

Holy is thy name and worthy of so much praise more that I could ever say.

Desires

Well, this year seems to have it's own set of challenges. Many of them. And I'll admit, most of them aren't having to do with classes or homework loads. The challenges are mostly me.

Let me clarify though. Last year was an amazing first year of college.I made lots of friends, learned about how difficult college is, which isn't too bad when you come from a college-prep private school. However, I think if I could do it over I would change some things. I let too much stuff slide, was not as good a student or writer as I could have been, and just generally should have done better.

 This year, I want to be better. I want to take my health more seriously than I have in the past. I want to revitalize my relationship with my Savior. I want to be a better roommate and friend. I want not to be a stranger in my new dorm. I want to make good friendships with the guys I live with. I especially want to be a better writer. It's rather ridiculous when you're a Professional Writing major and in a very competitive field, yet you feel as though you haven't achieved much and you're at the bottom of your class, regardless of GPA.

I want to do something, affect someone. I want to know that I have made a difference in people's lives. I want to know that I'm a good writer, not because my friends and family say so, but because it is true. Honestly I want to somehow land a writing contract. I want to have more than a few dozen people read my writing and then get letters telling me that what I wrote made some sort of difference. Well, I'm being brutally honest, I guess.

I want to land a job! I want to go out and get a job based on my merit, and not based on whose son I am. While it worked wonderfully at camp, it doesn't work in the real world. I want to be independent.

And since I'm on the brutal honesty track, I'll go ahead and just say it: I want to please my dad. I want him to be proud of me. Instead of hearing him remind me that I need to be better and work harder, I want to hear him tell me that he's proud of what I've done. And I want to be found worthy to him.

Don't get me wrong. My dad is a wonderful man. He loves me greatly. He supports me. I love him almost more than anything! God obviously has to come first, but it still remains. He is an awesome man I'm proud to call my father.

But last year I didn't do very well, and my dad has reminded me many times that we still struggle financially just for me to go to Taylor University. (Curse my idiotic ambition.) I want to make him proud this year, to hear him tell me that I've done well. I don't want to disappoint him.

However, finding out that you weren't selected for one of two available jobs you applied for really puts a cramp in those wishes. Dad and I both know how much I need a job, and how much I want to avoid working in the Dining Commons.And I haven't heard anything at all about the second job, leaving me intensely fearful about my chances.


So right now, I'm looking to God, telling Him about these desires. I want to please Him too, and well, I feel like I might not be doing well at that. I want to honor Him and my earthly father, but I'm not sure how well I will. I am really afraid I'll fail.


I have to remember to ask God for strength. Though I can't seem to get it through my logical mind, I know in my soul that if I try to make these changes, be this "better" person I hope to be all on my own, I'll fail. I will trip in the race of life and give the ground a very dirty, bloody hug. (Also known as a "face-plant".) Somehow, someway, if I will just trust God, His plan in me will be fulfilled. I pray that I live up to His plan.


Holy is He and worthy of praise.