Tag Archives: Shame

Chapter-a-Day

The Look

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https://open.spotify.com/episode/5neqiLNqoSWDbuAMWAUK9L?si=bjwOi_iGTCKxF3SX6IFYow

The Lord turned and looked straight at Peter…
Luke 22:61 (NIV)

One of the great themes woven through the entire Story is the tension between chaos and order.

Genesis opens with the chaos of the deep.
God speaks—and order is born.

The serpent enters the garden.
Deception takes root.
Sin fractures the world.

And from that moment on, the Story becomes a slow, relentless restoration.

Order… reclaimed from chaos.

Luke 22 is one of those moments where everything feels like it’s falling apart.

From the disciples’ perspective—boots on the ground—the world is unraveling.

What began as a night of celebration collapses into fear.

A friend—Judas—becomes a traitor.
Jesus, the one they’ve followed for three years…

Healing the sick.
Casting out demons.
Commanding storms.
Feeding thousands.
Raising the dead.

…is led away in chains like a lamb to slaughter.

The disciples scatter into the night.

And suddenly, the questions come rushing in:

Are we next?
Who will protect us?
What do we do now?

Earlier that evening, Jesus had led them—as usual—to a garden.

A place of peace.
Of prayer.
Of presence.

But another presence slithered in.

The ancient serpent.
Already coiled within Judas.

God.
Garden.
Order.

And then—

Chaos.

Peter, to his credit, doesn’t run far.

He follows… at a distance.

Close enough to see.
Far enough to stay safe.

Until he’s recognized.

“You’re one of them.”

He denies it.

Again.
And again.

Then Luke gives us this haunting detail—

As Peter speaks his third denial, Jesus is being led past him.

And in that moment…

Jesus turns.

And looks straight at Peter.

Not a glance.
Not a passing flicker.

A look.

And suddenly, the words from earlier that night come rushing back:

“Before the rooster crows today, you will deny me three times.”

The rooster crows.

Peter breaks.

For most of my life, I’ve stood in that moment with Peter.

And I’ve felt what he felt:

Shame.
Guilt.
Self-loathing.

But in the quiet this morning… I saw something different.

I saw control.

In the middle of chaos, Jesus is not surprised.
Not overwhelmed.
Not scrambling.

He is fully aware.

I saw compassion.

Though He is the one suffering—though the weight of what is coming is already pressing in—His eyes are not on Himself.

They are on Peter.

I saw purpose.

This moment didn’t derail the plan.

It was the plan.

Jesus knew.
Jesus said it would happen.
And still… He chose Peter.

Above the chaos the disciples would eventually see and understand that something deeper was unfolding:

Sin being atoned for.
Death being undone.
Creation being made new.

Order… rising again from chaos.

And somewhere in that storm…

Jesus looks at Peter.

And He looks at me.

Because I know that moment.

When fear floods in.
When anxiety tightens its grip.
When doubt whispers louder than truth.

When I fail in ways I swore I never would.

And in that place…

Jesus gives me the look.

Not the look of condemnation.

But the look that says—

I’m still in control.
I still love you—yes, even here.
And there is purpose… even in this.

The Creator is still at work.

Still speaking.
Still restoring.
Still bringing order… out of chaos.

I’m traveling on business this week. See you Friday.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

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These chapter-a-day blog posts are also available via podcast on all major podcast platforms including Apple, Google, and Spotify! Simply go to your podcast platform and search for “Wayfarer Tom Vander Well.” If it’s not on your platform, please let me know!
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Chapter-a-Day

My Forever High Priest

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Therefore [Jesus] is able to save completely those who come to God through him, because he always lives to intercede for them.
Hebrews 7:25 (NIV)

I ran into an acquaintance the other day who I hadn’t seen in months. Immediately upon seeing them I felt shame pouring out of my soul and filling every nook and cranny of my mind and body.

The last time I’d run into this person, I greeted them and called them by the wrong name. They said nothing and didn’t react negatively in any way, but by the time I realized my mistake it was too late. It was out there and there was nothing I could do about it. The flood of shame poured through me like a tidal wave whispering its toxic messages…

“Tom, you’re such an idiot.”
“You’ve just embarrassed yourself.”
“They’re going to forever remember this mistake.”
“You’re terrible with names, you dolt. Seriously, major flaw.”

As soon as I saw this person the other day, my shame brought me right back to that moment from months ago and flooded me with the same reminders of my hopelessly flawed worthlessness.

Welcome to the inner world of a shame-based person.

Today’s chapter is thick with theology and history. At the heart of it the author of Hebrews is addressing a Jewish religious issue. The Messiah was supposed to be both King and Priest. But the royal line came from King David who was from the tribe of Judah. The priestly line in the Law of Moses came from Aaron who was from the tribe of Levi. So, how can the Messiah be both?

The author explains that the priesthood of Aaron was a human priesthood tied to the Law of Moses. The Law of Moses was a set of rules and regulations. Rules and regulations don’t perfect a person. Laws may dictate social behavior, but it doesn’t spiritually transform a person within. The Law may dictate that I not steal, and you certainly won’t catch me shoplifting. That same Law does nothing to address the greed that motivates me to cheat on my tax return or be miserly in tipping those who serve me at the restaurant.

And, as a shame-based person, I can tell you that shame will doggedly remind me what a worthless wretch I am. I shared with you how bad it was when I simply forgot an acquaintance’s name. Imagine what shame does with my life-long list of tragic mistakes from stealing the Christmas cash off the Christmas tree when I was a child to cheating on my first wife to the failure of my first marriage. And those are just the high points. Trust me, there’s a lot more.

The author of Hebrews explains that Jesus is the High-Priest from an older, mysterious, eternal priesthood that predates Moses and Aaron. The royal priesthood of Melchizedek (which means “King of Righteousness”) who was King of Salem (from “shalom” meaning “Peace.”).

The priesthood of Aaron made repeated temporal sacrifices.
Jesus made the ultimate eternal sacrifice once for all.

The priesthood of Aaron was tied to human genealogy.
Jesus was part of a priesthood tied to eternity.

The priesthood of Aaron was “weak and useless” at dealing with sin.
Jesus’ sacrifice graciously paid for sin.

The priests of Aaron all died, their priesthood ended.
Jesus lives eternally to intercede perpetually on my behalf.

For someone constantly plagued by the shame of never being enough, the truth of this means everything.

I have a forever-advocate.

Not a priest I wore out with my mistakes.
Not a spiritual leader who retires, moves away, burns out, and dies.
Not a friend who tries to carry my burdens and eventually buckles.

But Christ —
holy and tender,
pure and powerful,
alive and attentive —
always interceding for me.

Every breath:
“Father, this one is mine.”

Every stumble:
“I’ve already covered that.”

Every anxious heartbeat:
“I am here. Still. Always.”

In a world of revolving doors, shifting loyalties, and fragile leaders, Hebrews 7 invites me to rest the weight of my shame on the only One who never steps away from His post.

I am held.
I am represented.
I am beloved, eternally.

And this morning, I walk into my day knowing Christ is already interceding on my behalf.

A better covenant.
A better hope.
A forever priest who doesn’t quit.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Promotional graphic for Tom Vander Well's Wayfarer blog and podcast, featuring icons of various podcast platforms with a photo of Tom Vander Well.
These chapter-a-day blog posts are also available via podcast on all major podcast platforms including Apple, Google, and Spotify! Simply go to your podcast platform and search for “Wayfarer Tom Vander Well.” If it’s not on your platform, please let me know!
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Chapter-a-Day

The Good Form of Sorrow and Shame

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Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death.
2 Corinthians 7:10 (NIV)

Wendy and I have been shocked in recent weeks as we continue to read about the continued rise of antisemitism and the hatred and vitriol spewing out of the mouths and social media posts of others. It breaks my heart and leaves me scratching my head.

A few years ago my friend and I were planning. production of a play called Freud’s Last Session (It was made into a motion picture starring Anthony Hopkins, and I highly recommend it). It’s a historic “what if” play that imagines Sigmund Freud inviting a young Oxford don named C.S. Lewis to his office in London for a conversation just before his death. For reasons that similarly broke my heart and left me scratching my head, the production was black-balled. Nevertheless, we’d had the script memorized and had been working it for some time.

Amidst the debate, the subject of shame arises. Lewis argues that shame can be a good thing and he wishes the world experienced more of it. I remember chewing on this line long and hard. As an Enneagram Type Four, the toxic version of shame has always been a core struggle of mine. The toxic version of shame is a deep sense of being flawed and worthless that leads to all sorts of unhealthy places. But Lewis wasn’t talking about that type of shame.

Today’s chapter is unique in that it addresses events between Paul and the believers in Corinth that are lost to history. He speaks of a letter he wrote to them in which he frankly addressed a matter between individuals within the gathering of believers. Paul states that it was a matter of justice. We’ll never know for sure what it was. What we do know from Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians is that there were all sorts of troubles within the local gathering. Paul was also frank with them in that letter.

Paul reports that Titus, with whom Paul appears to have sent the letter, had returned. He reported to Paul that his letter produced a sense of “godly sorrow” within the believers. He then contrasts that “godly sorrow,” much like what the character of C.S. Lewis meant by “good shame” in Freud’s Last Session, leads to a positive change which leads to healthy places and salvation. “Worldly sorrow,” he states, leads to unhealthy places and death.

And this brings me back to the hatred I witness in others. It causes Lewis’ line wishing for more “good shame” to resonate in my heart and mind. I love that the believers in Corinth responded to Paul’s letter in the right way, and that it led to good things. It reminds me of Jesus’ parable of the sower whose seed falls on different types of soil and results in vastly different outcomes. I pray for Jesus’ message of love to find good soil in the world and bear fruit. History is filled with examples of the unhealthy and murderous place that hatred and prejudice lead. The world could use some sorrow that leads to positive change.

I will be traveling much of the next two weeks. I plan to return June 9th. Don’t forget there’s an entire archive of posts indexed by book if you would like a fix while I’m away! 👇🏼 Cheers!

https://tomvanderwell.com/2019/09/02/chapter-a-day-posts-by-book/

These chapter-a-day blog posts are also available via podcast on all major podcast platforms including Apple, Google, and Spotify! Simply go to your podcast platform and search for “Wayfarer Tom Vander Well.” If it’s not on your platform, please let me know!
Chapter-a-Day

Wallflower

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Wallflower (CaD Matt 7) – Wayfarer

“For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.”
Matthew 7:8 (NIV)

The further I get on this life journey, the more things I discover about myself. When I was a young man, I thought I knew myself well, but the reality is that I didn’t know my true self at all. What I realized along the way is that self-discovery required the hero’s journey. It is only through wilderness wanderings, crisis, and trial that I discovered the means by which I uncovered things buried deep within.

It is only later in life that I have learned to recognize one of my patterns of behavior. The truth is that I am, at the heart of things, a wallflower. I don’t like to initiate things, rather I like to be invited in to things. I tend not to insert myself or take the first step. I don’t want to go chasing after things, I like to wait for things to naturally flow to me.

I have learned and experienced that this particular trait, like most quirks of personality and temperament, comes with both positive and negative consequences.

Today’s chapter is the final of three chapters that make up Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. As He approaches the end of His message, Jesus famously tells His audience to take the initiative to spiritually ask, seek, and knock. As I read this in the quiet this morning, my soul felt familiar pangs of internal discomfort. Asking, seeking, and knocking on opportunity’s door all require initiative. They all come with the risk of failure, disappointment, and rejection. That’s where my struggle is rooted.

I have learned from my study of the Enneagram that across the nine types there is a triad of core struggles: fear, anger, and shame. As an Enneagram Type Four, shame is my core struggle. It is the deep sense that there is something flawed in me, that I am not enough, and I am worthless.

If I step out and take the initiative to ask, there’s a chance that the answer will be “no, not for you” and it will only reinforce my shame. Nope. I think I’ll just stand here and wait for someone to come along, notice me, and offer me what I desire.

If I seek and take the initiative to find, I could easily find myself back in the wilderness again, feeling lost and void of the things I need to find my way. Nope. I think I’ll just stand here at the edge of opportunity until someone offers to safely guide me.

If I knock, I don’t know who will open the door. I don’t know how they will respond to my interruption. Maybe they’re having dinner, or indisposed, or hate being interrupted. There’s a chance they’ll slam the door in my face. Nope. That would only reinforce my shame. It’s easier just not taking the risk. I’ll just stand here outside the door and wait for the door to open on its own.

Ugh. Even writing this honest assessment of my inner thoughts stirs my sense of shame.

In the quiet this morning, I find myself reminded of the older brother in Jesus’ story of the Prodigal Son. He was angry that His father threw a big homecoming party for his wayward, disobedient little brother. He complains that not once had his father thrown a dinner party for him and his friends. The father replies, “But, son, you never asked.”

I’m still learning. Overcoming my core struggle with shame requires me to exercise faith despite my fear. This wallflower has to have the faith to step out onto the dance floor, approach that girl with the wild head of curly, mahogany hair and mischievous look in her blue eyes and ask her to dance. Yes, she might say no. On the other hand, I might find out her name is Wendy and taking the initiative to ask her for a dance might launch the greatest and most profitable adventure of my life journey.

I’m still learning.

Lord, in the quiet this morning, I ask that you continue to teach me, I seek your grace for being a slow learner. Heavenly Father, I’m knocking on your door this morning and wondering if I might possibly have your blessing this day. Thanks.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

These chapter-a-day blog posts are also available via podcast on all major podcast platforms including Apple, Google, and Spotify! Simply go to your podcast platform and search for “Wayfarer Tom Vander Well.” If it’s not on your platform, please let me know!
Chapter-a-Day

Responsible

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Responsible (CaD Lev 5) – Wayfarer

“‘If anyone sins because they do not speak up when they hear a public charge to testify regarding something they have seen or learned about, they will be held responsible.’”
Leviticus 5:1 (NIV)

Sin is a subject that carries a tremendous amount baggage with it. Along my life journey I’ve observed fundamentalist types who use sin as a tool for social control rather than treating it as the universal spiritual condition that it is. Particular sins get called out and heightened to a heightened level of public and social shame so as to ostracize those commit. Just recently I heard of a young couple who had sex and got pregnant before they were married. They were forced to stand in front of the church and publicly confess their sin and shame. Personally, I think every member of that church’s elder board should submit their tax returns for a thorough audit to see if any of them need to stand before the church and confess their greed. Subsequently, they should have a weigh-in at the next church potluck to see if anyone needs to stand before the church and address the sin of their gluttony and the abuse of God’s temple, their bodies.

As Jesus said to the fundamentalist religious types of His day, “he who is without sin can cast the first stone.”

As Shakespeare put it, “there’s the rub.” Religion loves to make a major deal about certain moral behaviors and particularly public sins, but then completely ignore others wholesale. The result is that the world sees the hypocrisy and dismisses the religion.

That still doesn’t address the problem of sin and the guilt of responsibility.

In today’s chapter God introduces the final of the five prescribed offerings for the ancient Hebrews to bring to His altar. It’s a guilt offering, and the chapter begins by calling out the responsibility one bears for speaking up when you have evidence of wrongdoing, and the guilt of remaining silent.

As I’m reading this, I put myself in Moses’ sandals and imagined him receiving this particular specific instruction. Moses was a murderer. During the old days in Egypt, Moses happened upon a slave driver who was beating one of his fellow Hebrews. Moses murdered the man. All of his fellow Hebrews who were there saw it. Moses was responsible for the act, and they were responsible to tell the truth about what they saw. I have a hard time believing that Moses didn’t feel something inside as God gives him these instructions for a “guilt” offering. That’s the key difference between a fundamentalist use of “sin” as a social control tool, and addressing the very real human need to take responsibility for the things we’ve done.

As I meditated on these things in the quiet this morning, I remembered an event that happened in college. I was driving with my sister late on a winter night. We witnessed a hit and run and I sped to try and get the license plate number of the person who “ran.” We hit a patch of ice, spun out of control, and into on-coming traffic. The young woman we struck was pregnant. Thank God, she and the baby were alive despite her injuries landing her in the hospital. A few days later, my sister visited the woman in the hospital to apologize and express her sorrow for what happened. I, however, didn’t go. The guilt and shame I felt was overwhelming. I was afraid to face her. I was afraid to speak up and be responsible. I still feel it as I remember and write these words.

That is the sin problem God came to address. I look back at my life journey and the road is dotted with things for which I know I am responsible. Not only am I responsible for the mistakes I willfully made and the wrongdoing I willfully committed, but I’m also responsible for the things I should have done and failed to do. How amazing that God not only initiated a way to address the problem for Moses and the ancient Hebrews, but that He ultimately chooses to sacrifice Himself in order that I might be graciously and mercifully forgiven.

The words of a Bob Dylan lyric come to mind:

“Don’t have the inclination to look back on any mistake.
Like Cain, I now behold this chain of events that I must break.
In the fury of the moment. I can see the Master’s hand,
In every leaf that trembles, in every grain of sand.”

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

These chapter-a-day blog posts are also available via podcast on all major podcast platforms including Apple, Google, and Spotify! Simply go to your podcast platform and search for “Wayfarer Tom Vander Well.” If it’s not on your platform, please let me know!
Chapter-a-Day

The One Thing

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The One Thing (CaD Rom 1) – Wayfarer

For I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God that brings salvation to everyone who believes: first to the Jew, then to the Gentile.
Romans 1:16 (NIV)

I had a class in college in which the professor assigned us to write a paper of at least 10 pages about a historical figure. One day in class he returned our papers with his corresponding grade written at the top with a bright red Sharpie. One of my classmates was livid that he’d received a failing grade. In front of the entire class, he called out the professor for failing him. As I recall, the professor attempted to help our classmate save face by quietly telling him to read through the notes he’d made and it would explain. The classmate pressed on, insisting that there was no way he should have been given an “F” on the paper.

“The assignment was a ten-page paper. My paper was 35 pages long!” Our classmate yelled.

“Yes,” the professor replied calmly. “You wrote a 35-page paper, but you didn’t say anything.”

Over the past several years, I have had the privilege and honor of mentoring several individuals in our local gathering of Jesus’ followers in the art and craft of preaching. It’s given me great joy. I believe I may have learned more through the process than my protégés.

Among the things I have stressed in my mentoring is that when you have to say something it’s critical to clearly articulate what it is you have to say. I call it “the one thing” and I asked them “If there was one thing you wanted every listener to walk away and remember, what is it?” Among the most common struggles I observed with my charges was having too much content. Often fueled by fear of not being able to fill the allotted time or coming across as lacking knowledge, individuals would pack their outline or message with all sorts of information, references, and illustrations. However, the more content that was packed in, the easier it was for “the one thing” to get lost.

In the rom-com Sabrina, the chauffeur’s daughter says to her billionaire father’s employer, “You know, Linus, more isn’t always better. Sometimes more is just more.”

Today this chapter-a-day journey enters Paul’s letter to the believers in Rome. Paul has a lot to say to his friends. But in his opening words he clearly articulates his “one thing:”

For I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God that brings salvation to everyone who believes: first to the Jew, then to the Gentile.

Roman society of Paul’s day was all about honor and power, shame and weakness. The idea of a suffering, servant-hearted Messiah dying on a cross was antithetical to citizens in the heart of the most powerful, most wealthy, and most worldly of human Empires. Most Romans looked down upon Jesus’ Message as foolishness. Paul is about to explain to the believers in the heart of the Roman Empire, in great detail, what real power and foolishness look like in the Kingdom of God; Power that leads from death to life, from chaos to shalom, from earth to eternity.

In the quiet this morning, I find myself meditating on my circumstances relative to the original Roman recipients of Paul’s letter. I live in the “heartland” of an American Empire in what is considered a post-Christian era. Many among the educated elite now consider Jesus’ Message not only foolish but evil. The world, they argue, would have been better off had Jesus and His followers never existed. Meanwhile, affluence affords me the luxury of focusing time, energy, and resources on a host of silly things and foolish notions. As I look back at my life journey, I’ve never felt such a contrast between the direction Jesus’ Message leads and the messages the world tells me I must believe under the threat of social and cultural cancellation.

I think it’s a good time to read the “something” Paul had to say.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

Rivals, Defeat, and Shame

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Rivals, Defeat, and Shame (CaD 1 Chr 19) – Wayfarer

So Hanun [the Ammonite] seized David’s envoys, shaved them, cut off their garments at the buttocks, and sent them away.
1 Chronicles 19:4 (NIV)

Yesterday, Wendy and I purchased tickets for our annual pilgrimage to the “mother ship,” U.S. Bank Stadium in Minneapolis, to cheer on the Minnesota Vikings. We kind of enjoy being fans, having a team to root for, and riding the ups and downs that come with it. Almost every team to whom we are loyal are “good” teams who rarely break through and win “the big one.” C’est la vie.

Every one of “our” teams has an archrival. It’s the nature of sports. When Wendy and I go to the lake in the heart of Cardinals country, we get a lot of ribbing for wearing our Cubs gear. Our neighbors used to fly their Cardinals’ flag just for us. One summer we happened to be at the lake when the Cubs beat the Cardinals, so I blasted the Cubs’ victory song Go Cubs Go at full volume on our deck knowing that the water of the cove would carry the sound a long way. Rivalry is part of the fun of being a fan.

I remember years ago hearing that as the annual game against the archrival approached, a team’s coach made the players sit and watch the previous match-up which was an agonizing, humiliating defeat. The coach made the players watch it in its entirety. It motivated them to step up and they turned the tables on their rivals that year.

In ancient times, kingdoms also had rivals, but with bloody, dangerous, and life-threatening consequences. When reading through the history of the ancient Hebrews and the wars they fought to survive, the same enemy names pop up over and over and over again: Philistines, Edomites, Arameans, and Ammonites to name a few.

The author of Chronicles is scratching out his version of that history with his stylus on papyrus around 400 B.C. His generation is desperately trying to restore and rebuild the city of Jerusalem, which has been lying in rubble for decades. Their people had been scattered and taken into exile in Babylon and Assyria. At the point in time he is writing, they are history’s version of what sports would call “cellar dwellers” or “bottom feeders.” The “glory days” are far behind them.

Guess who doesn’t want to see them successfully rebuild?

It’s their rivals. In Nehemiah’s account of the rebuilding of Jerusalem, he tells of the Ammonites being among those who antagonized the Hebews and their rebuilding of the walls.

In today’s chapter, King David sends a delegation to the newly crowned prince of the Ammonites with his condolences on the death of his father, the King. It was a gesture of goodwill. Instead of accepting it, the new King shaves the heads of the Hebrew delegation (to be shaved was culturally shaming at that time) and cut their garments so the men’s butts were publicly exposed (also extremely shaming and humiliating). David responds by attacking the Ammonites and their allies, successfully defeating them.

In the quiet this morning, I considered what it must have been like for the Chronicler and his readers to read these historical accounts of the Ammonites’ antagonism and dishonor of David, and David’s victorious response. I wondered if reading about this past humiliation inspired the Chronicler and his contemporaries to be diligent in their defense of Jerusalem and their stand against their antagonistic rivals.

We mostly talk about shame in negative terms these days, and for those like me who are susceptible to shame’s toxicity, it can have devastating, negative effects on one’s heart, mind, and life. But there is also such a thing as good shame when a humiliating defeat or failure inspires me to make a positive change to ensure I never experience that humiliation, failure, or defeat again. It’s possible for a healthy memory of failure’s sting to motivate thoughts and actions that will avoid any future recurrences.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

Worm Theology

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Worm Theology (CaD Job 25) – Wayfarer

“If even the moon is not bright
    and the stars are not pure in his eyes,
how much less a mortal, who is but a maggot—
    a human being, who is only a worm!”
Job 25:5-6 (NIV)

I spent most of my 20s and 30s trying to figure myself out. The truth that I came to embrace during those years is that the journey of self-discovery will not end on this earthly sojourn. I will forever be peeling back layers and honing my thoughts, words, and behaviors to be like Jesus. It was during those early years, however, that I learned the tools and habits that have been invaluable in the process.

One of the things that I was quick to discover in those early days of self-discovery was my shame. The American Heritage Dictionary defines shame as “a pervasive, negative emotional state, usually originating in childhood, marked by chronic self-reproach and a sense of personal failure.” In working with a friend and therapist, I was assigned to name my own personal shame. “If your core pain wore one of those “Hello, My Name Is” name tags,” my friend asked. “What would you write?”  After pondering on it and journaling about it for some time the answer emerged: “Not Enough.” In my personal experience, the “sense of personal failure” is not because I have done something wrong, but because there is something inherently wrong with me, and that inherent flaw means that I myself, and all that I do, are perpetually “not enough.”

One of the basic tenets of the Great Story is that human beings are sinful individuals living in a fallen world. A theological term often used for this is “total depravity.” Romans 3:23 is an oft quoted verse to describe it: “for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” It is easy, I discovered, for shame to take the concept of total depravity and run with it, wallow in it, and allow it to perpetuate a cycle of shame that becomes spiritually, mentally, and relationally unhealthy. Others have tagged this “Worm Theology.”

Today’s very short chapter is his friend, Bill’s, third and final statement to Job, and it aptly summarizes the disconnect between what Job and his three amigos have been saying. Bill describes Worm Theology really well. We’re all just maggots. We’re all just worms. We’re all worthless and Job should just accept his tragedy and suffering as the deserved ends of worthless worm.

Of course, Bill is only making Job’s case even stronger. The three amigos have not suffered as Job has. So, is it just Job that’s the worthless worm? If we’re all just worthless worms, then why haven’t the three amigos suffered a similar fate?

Along my spiritual journey, I have found the truth of human sinfulness to be like so many other things in life. I can take it to one extreme and end up in Worm Theology. I can also take it to the other extreme and find myself denying the truth and embracing a false sense of self-righteousness. Along my journey of self-discovery and in my study of the Great Story, I found the truth in the tension between the two extremes. Yes, I am a sinful human being. Yes, I am “not enough” to attain spiritual righteousness by human effort and means. But neither and I a worthless worm. That’s the beauty of what Jesus taught and the beauty of the sacrifice He made. “For God so loved…” me “…that He gave His one and only Son.” Why would Jesus sacrifice Himself for me if there wasn’t something he found lovable and valuable enough to make that sacrifice?

In the quiet this morning, I am grateful for the things I’ve learned along this journey. I’m glad for the work of self-discovery and maturation that brought me to my current waypoint on life’s road. I’m excited to find what God has for me out there on the horizon. No matter what it is, I’ve learned that I can trust God in and through it. I trust the best is yet to come when this earthly journey is finished, and the eternal journey truly begins.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

The Spiritual Test

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The Spiritual Test (CaD 2 Sam 12) – Wayfarer

Then David said to Nathan, “I have sinned against the Lord.”
2 Samuel 12:13a (NIV)

When I was five years old, while on a Christmas Eve sleepover at my grandparent’s house,  I stole all of my siblings’ gift envelopes off of the Christmas tree and hid them in my suitcase. I watched in silence on Christmas day as grandma racked her brain to figure out where those envelopes went. Then, I promptly forgot that my mom would be the one unpacking my suitcase when we got home. I was totally busted. My butt was as rosy as Santa’s cheeks from the spanking that quickly followed. The cheeks of my face were quickly stained with tears of remorse. I called grandma to confess my heinous crime and to ask her forgiveness.

I learned at an early age that your sins find you out. Having said that, let me readily admit that it didn’t stop me from sinning. I’ve made plenty of tragic choices since then. Along my journey, however, I’ve come to realize that hiding, concealing, obfuscating, blaming, and excusing my wrongdoing is both delaying the inevitable and stunting my spiritual growth and development. The further I get in the journey the more readily I’ve embraced my fallibility and shortcomings. I might as well cut to the chase, admit I blew it, and allow everyone to move on.

I’ve been reading the book Seven by Jeff Cook which explores the link between Jesus’ “Beatitudes” and the seven deadly sins. He writes,

“Being poor in spirit is like being part of an AA meeting where all the participants confess openly that their lives have become unmanageable. Poverty in spirit is a conversation over coffee in which tears and regrets and inadequacies cover the table…Those who know they are poor in spirit are blessed because they alone know they need help – and any step toward help must be a step toward community…When we make our hurts and our past and our junk public, we are healed. When we keep them private, it is only a matter of time before they destroy us.”

In this morning’s chapter, David is confronted by the prophet Nathan regarding his illicit affair with Bathsheba and his conspiracy to murder Bathsheba’s husband. His attempt to conceal the fact that he was the father of Bathsheba’s child is revealed in dramatic fashion. David’s response was to quickly confess his wrongdoing and seek God’s forgiveness. It’s a fascinating contrast to David’s predecessor. When the prophet Samuel confronted King Saul with his wrongdoing, Saul excused his behavior and refused to repent of his actions.

We all make mistakes. We all make selfish choices that hurt others. I’ve learned along my life journey that the true spiritual test is in how I respond to God and others in the ensuing shame and guilty conscience, or when my mistakes are confronted and exposed.

 A Note to Readers
I’m taking a blogging sabbatical and will be re-publishing my chapter-a-day thoughts on David’s continued story in 2 Samuel while I’m taking a little time off in order to focus on a few other priorities. Thanks for reading.
Today’s post was originally published in May 2014.

The featured image on today’s post was created with Wonder A.I.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

Wrestling

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Wrestling (CaD Gen 32) – Wayfarer

Then the man said, “Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, because you have struggled with God and with humans and have overcome.”
Genesis 32:28 (NIV)

Growing up in Iowa, one learns that wrestling is a big thing. Our state universities typically have nationally top-ranked programs. Most Iowans know the names of our state’s wrestling heroes. When I was growing up, wrestling was a mandatory class in P.E. during Junior High. For the record, I was really bad at it.

But that was just physical wrestling. With other types of wrestling, I’m quite adept: wrestling with fear, wrestling with shame, wrestling with the past, and et cetera.

Today’s chapter contains another mysterious, ancient story. Jacob, having left his Uncle Laban and returned to his home country, first finds himself in a potentially tough spot with his brother Esau. Jacob fears that his brother will kill him, and he comes up with a strategic plan to appease Esau’s anger and position himself in such a way to reduce his potential losses should Esau attck.

That night, Jacob finds himself in an all-night wrestling match with God. Having successfully gone the distance, God asks to “tap out.” Jacob, however, says he won’t give up until God blesses him.

God responds by saying, “Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, because you have struggled with God and with humans and have overcome.”

From the stories we’ve read about Jacob, he’s always been wrestling with life. He came out of the womb wrestling with his twin brother. He wrestles with Esau for power and position within the family system. He wrestles with Esau for his father’s affection and then wrestles with his father to steal Esau’s birthright. Jacob then wrestles ceaselessly with his Uncle Laban for the right to marry Rachel, and then for his wages. God has repeatedly told Jacob that he will inherit the blessing God gave to his grandfather Abraham, and his father, Isaac. Yet, there seems to be something in Jacob that doesn’t believe it despite all the evidence of his flourishing. Jacob is still wrestling with God and petitioning God for the blessing that’s already been given.

Perhaps that the deceiver, Jacob, having lived a life of deceiving and being deceived, has projected onto God his own shortcomings. Perhaps he can’t trust God not to be a deceiver, too.

Perhaps Jacob is bogged down in the shame of his own failings and, deep down, he doesn’t believe that God would bless a deceiver like him. He’s done nothing to deserved God’s blessing and favor.

Perhaps God knew that the only way Jacob would truly understand and embrace the blessing that had been freely given was to wrestle for it.

As I mulled this over in the quiet this morning, I found myself wrestling. I, too, have experienced blessings I know I really don’t deserve. I, too, struggle to embrace blessings freely and graciously given. Instead of gratefully receiving them, I find myself pessimistically assuming that they will be withdrawn, withheld, or will turn out to have been some kind of mistake. I have to confess to my own internal wrestling match with God, for which I might just have Olympic-worthy talent. And, that’s not a good thing.

I believe it’s time for me to tap out and forfeit this wrestling match to God.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.