Tag: christian

On Wednesdays We Reflect: Week 5 Reflections

Donna Joy

Shame puts a spell on us. 

I watched a documentary this week on the college admissions cheating scandal Operation Varsity Blues. The documentary highlighted Rick Singer (as the orchestrator of the admissions scam), as well as a sampling of the parents who had participated. One parent especially stood out to me. According to the narrator, this working mom went from “I feel guilty about working and not spending more time with my children” to “I am a bad mother” to “I need to arrange to have my child attend the best school possible, even if I have to engage in illegal and illicit activity to get my child through admissions.” 

Shame comes when we internalize guilt.
Guilt says we made a bad decision.
Shame says we are that bad decision.
Shame says we are the sum of all of our bad decisions and mistakes. When shame becomes part of our identity, it affects our body, mind and soul. It affects our ability to make good decisions, which then cements the shame cycles.

Once we believe the voice of shame, we often become susceptible to relinquishing control of our decisions to someone else, hoping they will provide a solution for our shame. For the mom in the documentary, guilt about not spending more time with her children turned into the shame label: “I am a bad mother” and the narrator commentated that Singer was then able to manipulatively lead the shame-filled parent into illegal behavior.

I may not face someone convincing me to drop a few mil on getting my kids into their reach schools, but my own susceptibility is no less real.

Living with internalized shame leaves me susceptible to people and situations that are all too willing to capitalize on that susceptibility, whether it’s a college admissions counselor offering side doors to the country’s top universities, a manipulative relationship in my personal or work life, or the products lining the aisles of Target, enticing me to stash all my shame in a woven rattan box and close the lid.

The hope is in the actual antidote to shame, which Brené Brown identifies as empathy.

Speaking out, breaking the power of silence and secrecy and then being met with empathy in place of judgment is the antidote to the poison of shame.

I don’t believe in fairytales, but I do believe one empathetic voice can break the spell of shame.

I believe in the power of emptying, acknowledging and addressing the contents of the woven rattan box in a space free of judgment.

This is how I’m learning to see Jesus:

Holding space for me to bring my boxes of hidden shame, removing the lid, acknowledging the contents and addressing them. 

Speaking truth with empathy and with empathy drawing out the truth. 

Breaking the spell of shame.

On Wednesdays We Reflect: Week 3 Reflections

Donna Joy

Have you ever read the book Little Bear?

It was one of my favorites as a child, and one of my favorites to read to my own children – probably in part because I love Maurice Sendak’s illustrations. In the chapter, “What Will I Wear,” Little Bear looks out the window at the falling snow and even before he steps out into it, he tells his Momma, “Momma I’m cold, I want something to put on.” 

Momma Bear sews him a hat and sends him out to play in the snow.

Soon he returns, still cold. His Momma gives him another layer and sends him back out.

Every time he goes out to play, he comes back, asking for more, and every time his Momma puts down what she is working on and sews him another layer – a hat, then a coat, and eventually even snow pants. Still, Little Bear returns cold.

Finally, Momma Bear stops and considers all that she has put on him. She offers Little Bear one last solution, a fur coat. YES, says Little Bear. But instead of adding another layer, one by one she removes all the layers she had covered him with that day. 

Look, at your fur coat. Now you will not be cold, she told him.

And he wasn’t.

All Little Bear needed was the fur coat he was born with. It was enough, and every layer added detracted from it.

Throughout this uncovering project, I can see spaces in my home, and my life, filled with my own versions of those hats, snow pants, etc. 

How many times have I seen my kids be interested in something and respond by burying them under a mound of supplies I think they may “need” to pursue that interest, completely overwhelming them and stifling creativity instead of nurturing it?

How many times have I tried to solve problems by buying more stuff, adding more layers?

Then the even harder questions:

What are the layers that have been put on me, and I have put on myself, and others, to make me and/or my spirituality ‘enough?’

I asked a few friends who grew up in the church to share things they were told were expected of them as ‘christian’ women. From their experiences (and mine), we have been told, to be a ‘christian’ woman, we must:

Cook
Sew
Entertain
Be quiet
Be friendly
Be kind
Be generous
Always be prepared to give an answer to explain your faith
Don’t preach or teach
Hide your doubts
Dress modestly
Attract a husband
Praise (and defend) your husband
Have children
Take care of the children
Teach Sunday School
Keep the children quiet too
Braid your hair
Don’t be concerned with braided hair
Proverbs 31 in the streets and Song of Solomon in the sheets
Be submissive, be a helpmate

Some of the things on this list may perhaps lead to women who are more well-behaved (in some people’s minds and according to some people’s standards). Some of these things may even make some women feel more well-liked or accepted (in certain circles).

But many of the items on this list are far too often used as tools of control and manipulation, perpetuating toxicity and abuse in many church communities. 

As a follower of Christ, I believe I am to be continually growing and maturing, following the example of Christ. This list, however, does not make us Christian or make us any more or less loved by God.

Like Little Bear, each successive layer just makes us colder, as they cover up how we were created to thrive. The uncovering process I’m engaging in, the search for real, is the hard work of stripping away all the layers of human expectation, often one by one, to reveal my perfectly designed fur coat, which has been hiding underneath the entire time.