Parents, What do we do with shame? … As a young minister, in one of my first churches, I was excited to be asked to be on the church’s softball team. I had deflected the invite by saying I’m not great at softball and I hadn’t played in several years. The coach said they were down a player and he insisted that I come. As a kid, I was a decent stickball & whiffleball player, a pretty mediocre softball player and a not great baseball player, but I was looking forward to belonging to the team, hanging out, and having fun, making new friends with some guys my age at my new church. In my excitement of being asked to join the team, I went out and bought a new glove, something I hadn’t done since elementary school with my dad. I enthusiastically shared with Anita my great anticipation. I drove to the ball diamond for my first practice. As soon as I got out of the car, the coach said, “grab a bat”… so, I grabbed a bat and stepped up to the plate for what I thought was a practice swing. The pitcher sent me a melon - soft and sweet, I swung the bat and made contact. I didn’t swing hard, I was trying to warm up my muscles a bit. The coach said, “run!”; I was like “what?” and began to run toward first. The short stop easily threw me out. The coach said, “We can't use you Bill… you didn’t even make it to first base.” He was looking for a ringer and I was no ringer. So, in shame and embarrassment I walked back to my car like a disappointed 6th grader who didn’t make the school basketball team (that happened too BTW). According to shame researcher, Brené Brown, shame is an “intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging.” So, in a sports obsessed community where your value and acceptance is determined by your softball prowess, this was the epitome of shame. The entire team averted their eyes to avoid looking at me as I slinked into the car trying not to show any emotion. I drove home, threw my glove in the closet and collapsed on the couch in a heap, like dirty laundry tossed into a basket. Lots of things were going through my head, all of which led to a spiral of disappointment, hurt and anger. I wasn’t sure what to think, I didn’t know how to process this in a healthy way. I wish I had been mature enough to lovingly confront this older fellow church family member, asking if perhaps I had misunderstood his invitation, or if he had somehow misunderstood my expression of my skill level. However, all I did was avoid the coach and any team member for the rest of my time at this church and they seemed comfortable doing the same. (BTW I needed some humbling at that point in my life, I was kinda arrogant and capable of dispensing some shame myself. God was probably allowing this humiliation with good reason. That doesn’t, however, give a free pass to those who uncaringly dish out this toxic shame.) A few years ago, I gave that glove away with some bikes and other sports equipment to a Dad with four active kids. Just looking at the glove, triggered some shame. I wouldn’t wish this experience on anyone, but each time I remember it, it reminds me how much it hurts to feel like you don’t belong, like you’ve been rejected and you are just not good enough. It helps me to remember to value people over other things. It reminds me that we are all desperate to belong and we gotta make sure we help flawed people (hint: we’re all flawed!) know they have a place with Jesus and us, regardless of what they can do for us or whether or not they can improve our lives (or win us the church softball league championship).
Friday, October 15, 2021
Parents, What Do We Do With Shame?* Words from COVID 19 Delta
Saturday, October 2, 2021
Parents, Be Careful Who You Believe!* Words From COVID 19 Delta
Parents, be careful who you believe! There I was standing on the wall of my childhood back porch, wearing my cape, shorts with pasty white spindly little legs sticking out and my red Keds tennis shoes, believing I could fly. The Wonderful World of Disney, by the way, had convinced me that all I had to do was BELIEVE and then I could fly. So, I closed my eyes, believed real hard and jumped. Thankfully I had not climbed to the top of the house, still it was about a 7 foot drop (thankfully onto grass, not concrete) … a long drop for a little boy. I hit the ground hard, landing on my feet. My legs folded up under me, my breath was knocked out of me. It hurt my whole body. I limped back up to the porch, thinking maybe I just didn’t believe hard enough. So, I climbed back up, closed my eyes and believed harder, but this time I was either smart enough not to jump or my legs were hurting too badly to try again. Or perhaps I realized that the law of gravity was one that was real and true regardless of my belief (no discredit to the Wright brothers who learned how to use some other physical laws and truths to overcome gravity temporarily). A similar thing happened to a hallmate in my freshman dorm in college. We were on the second floor of the dorm and it had started snowing. This young man had never experienced snow before, he lived in South Florida. As the evening went on, the snow began to pile up. Mind you, we were in Greenville, SC and there were only 3 inches of the wet white stuff, but this young man had been celebrating the snowfall with some inhibition reducing beverages (that weren’t, btw, allowed on campus at that time). He had believed that the snow was soft and that jumping into it would soften his landing. Despite some of his hallmates telling him not to do it, he, like many of us at that age, also believed he was made of steel and he jumped. He, however, was not made of steel and the snow was not deep enough to be soft and he spent the rest of the semester on crutches with a cast on his leg. Both of us had believed a lie or lies. We believed them earnestly and wholeheartedly enough to jump from high places, but we both hit the ground hard. Our sources of truth were unreliable.