Shame

Counseling Guilt, Shame, and Regret as Different Experiences

How many words can you think of for the color purple? Your list might include  lavender, lilac, mauve, periwinkle, plum, or violet. Knowing this many words for the color purple might be useful if you work in the paint department of a local hardware store. But our purpose is to create a metaphor. What we want to know initially is, “Do the words guilt, shame, and regret share the same relationship as the words lilac, plum, and violet? Are they three ways of saying basically the same thing?”

Initially, we might be prone to say yes. The experience of these three emotions is very similar. Each is unpleasant. There is a natural instinct to want to hide or cover up. Frequently we are embarrassed to admit or want to talk about any of these emotions. There is a sense of being dirty, damaged, or bad in the midst of these experiences. We have a tendency to believe that these emotions define us (at least to some degree).

Further, each emotion is triggered by similar types of events. There was something wrong that happened and we were part of that event(s). Socially, the triggering event is believed to carry a stigma that would make us less acceptable. All three tend to be things we think we shouldn’t talk about with others. Memory of the triggering event is very “sticky” in our memory and hard to let go.

To use another metaphor, we want to know if these emotions are identical twins, mere siblings, cousins, or doppelgängers (people who look like but have no relation). This article will argue that guilt, shame, and regret are best thought of as cousins. They are part of the same family, but not the same immediate household.

Guilt, shame, and regret are products of the Genesis 3 Fall. We experience guilt, shame, and regret because we live in a broken world marred by sin. Each of these emotions respond to types of wrong in our life and the world around us. But each emotion responds to different types of wrong, or better said, each of these emotions emerge when we have a different relationship to the wrong that prompts them.

We will begin with short, concise definitions of guilt, shame, and regret. Warning: short, concise definitions are wonderful because they bring clarity, but also run the risks for over-simplification. For our work here, we will accept the risk of over-simplification.

  • Guilt is a sense of legitimate condemnation in response to personal sin and says, “I feel bad because I did something wrong.”

  • Shame is a sense of illegitimate condemnation or contamination in response to suffering and says, “I feel bad because I am unacceptable due what happened to me.”

  • Regret is a form of grief for a reasonably good circumstance that was never realized and says, “I feel bad because I wish things had gone differently.”

We rightly feel guilt when we lose our temper, misrepresent the truth, fail to fulfill a promise, neglect a responsibility, dishonor an authority figure, make a crude joke, take advantage of someone, or fail to represent Christ accurately in some other way. If we do not feel guilty for these things, our conscience is seared (at least to some degree).

We feel shame when we have been abused (physically, verbally, or sexually), are limited by chronic pain or body disfigurement, have been betrayed by a spouse or trusted friend, are helpless after a catastrophe, or experience other hardships that are not the result of personal sin. If we “own” these emotions in the same way we own guilt, then we feel a false sense of condemnation. Regardless, we feel “less than” or marred by these experiences.

We feel regret when a parent is absent from key events in our life, an illness prevents us from pursuing a dream, an opportunity does not come our way, we cannot give loved ones things that most people can, or some other legitimate desire is unfulfilled. If we interpret these experiences as God’s rejection or a reflection of our value, then we over-personalize these events as if they carried a message about us from God; we treat regret like an insult instead of a hardship.

Pause for a moment to help you assimilate this much of the content and ask yourself the question, “Which of my major, unpleasant life experiences have resulted in guilt… shame… regret?” Being able to sort our emotional-moral laundry is an important part of making good application of the gospel. If we mis-identify these three experiences, we are likely to misinterpret the kind of compassion God offers to our hardship.

Before we move the next section, pause and ask yourself another question, “How does the gospel speak to the experiences of guilt, shame, and regret in unique ways?” If the first reflection question helped you assimilate what we just covered, this reflection question helps till the soil of your mind for what we are about to cover.

A foundational premise of this article is: the gospel speaks to both sin and suffering, but it speaks to them differently. To use another metaphor, the Great Physician can treat a joint injury and a muscle strain (injuries that often feel quite similar) but does so in different ways. Our goal in the next section is to enhance our ability to be good ambassadors of the Wonderful Counselor as we come alongside people experiencing a cocktail of guilt, shame, and regret (rarely do we ever experience just one of these emotions; they are cousins that often travel together).

The gospel answers guilt with forgiveness. Guilt leaves a moral stain on our soul which the blood of Jesus washes clean and then replaces with His own righteousness. Sin does not become our identity because the gospel transforms us from rebels against God to ambassadors for God. Jesus paid the penalty for sin in our place. Sanctification involves transforming the selfish motives which make sin seem appealing to motives that take their joy in loving God and loving others.

The gospel answers shame with acceptance. Shame leaves no stain but leaves us feeling visibly and repulsively scarred. The experience of shame leaves us haunted by the phrase “if they knew.” The implication is that whoever loves, trusts, or appreciates us now would not, “if they knew” the event(s) that cause shame. The gospel offers adoption with full, unequivocal inclusion in God’s family. It is often said, shame is an experience of the eyes. When we feel ashamed, we avoid eye contact. The gospel invites us to pray to God and fellowship with fellow believers without looking away.

The gospel answers regret with the assurance of that we are in the providence of a good God. The gospel reveals a God who transforms the unfortunate events of life. It does not force or rush us to call painful or unfortunate things good, but it does reveal the character of a God who redeems the darkest moments (Jesus on Calvary) for His glory and our good. The gospel gives us the freedom to grieve with hope the events that create regret. These events are sad, but they do not get the final or ultimate word on our life.

As you think about serving in the role of counselor, as individuals grapple with these implications, I would invite you to think in the role of ambassador more than teacher. It is easy to get excited about these truths, listen for when they are relevant, and begin talking with passion. That is the mindset of a teacher; someone who is excited about their subject matter and tries to elicit comparable enthusiasm in their pupils. For counselees whose struggle is perpetuated by confusion or misinformation, the role of counselor-as-teacher can be helpful.

But for many counselees who will benefit most from this material, their struggle is not rooted in confusion or misinformation, but the absence of experiencing the reality of these truths. Their primary need is not greater understanding, but lived experience. For shame, they haven’t known warm eye contact after sharing their pain. For regret, they have not experienced patient companionship in their grief. For guilt, they have not know a relationship where the weight of past sin did not sit heavy upon them. They need an ambassador more than a tutor. As counselors, with the courage brought by the privacy and security of a confidential office, we often get to be that first ambassador which makes God’s response to their struggle tangible. My hope is that this article helps us step into these moments more accurately.

Posted at: http://bradhambrick.com/counseling-guilt-shame-and-regret-as-different-experiences/

Making Church a Safe Place for Sorrow

Christine Chappell

Christine Chappell is the author of Clean Home, Messy Heart and Help! My Teen is Depressed (Shepherd Press, forthcoming March 2020). She hosts The Hope + Help Project podcast and blogs at faithfulsparrow.com. Her writing has been featured at Desiring God, The Gospel Coalition, Risen Motherhood, Thrive Moms, Servants of Grace, and Devotable. Christine lives in South Carolina with her husband and three children.

Sometimes worship comes by way of weeping in the pew. When the broken enter the sanctuary of God on Sunday mornings, they do so, perhaps, with every fiber of their being tempting them to withdrawal. They drag their grief, depression, and sorrow behind them like a ball and chain, plodding along to their seats with the hope of going unnoticed in the crowd; that they manage to make it to church after peeling themselves out of bed is a grace manifested through gutsy volition.

There in the pew, they collide with the unspoken notion that a painted smile with stoic countenance acts as a prerequisite for respectable attendance. We subconsciously oblige the sorrowing among us to swallow their grief, pipe up, and praise the Lord. Disconnected from the celebratory riffs and confident proclamations, the crushed in spirit become sorely neglected by the exclusion of their spiritual pain in corporate worship.

In short, we stigmatize the sorrowing by fostering an emotional prosperity culture.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer wasn’t fooled. He warned that community built upon “rapturous experiences and lofty moods” would stymie true Christian fellowship and prove itself disingenuous over time. The result being communities of believers who build programs and religious activities on human ideals instead of divine realities (Colossians 2:8). While Revelation 21 specifically lists death, mourning, crying, and pain as fundamental grievances believers will face, there is a shocking lack of corporate preparation to meet with such sorrows. Removing the stigma of deeply painful sadness requires the local church’s unhurried commitment to making room for it on Sunday mornings and a desire to equip leaders in one-another care.

WHEN THE SORROWING ARE SILENCED

There are times when carrying a burden requires we also carry a tune of lament to weep with those who weep (Romans 12:15). In his book, Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy, Pastor Mark Vroegop addresses the concerning absence of biblical lament in the music of our churches, noting that while, “at least a third of the Psalms are in a minor key, it seems that the American church avoids lament.” He continues, “More people than we probably know are weeping in our Sunday celebrations.”

In this challenging yet honest observation, Vroegop sheds light on the disconnect between our encounters with real-life pain and the traditional atmosphere of Sunday morning worship. Though the Scriptures are rich with language and comforts for those who are walking through devastating heartbreak, a robust theology of human sorrow seems to be missing from the modern-day songbook. As a result, people who limp to the house of God for spiritual refuge become ostracized, believing that their experiences of sorrow must be indicators of defective faith.

PREPARING THE PEOPLE FOR SORROW

Daniel Darling, the Vice President for Communications at the ERLC, has shared about his own personal experience with sorrow on Sunday mornings. “There are times,” he reflects, “when I’ve walked into the church and wondered just where to go with my distress. There are many faces to God, and the one I needed to see on those mornings wasn’t the triumphant Warrior but the gentle Shepherd. In those moments, I’ve wondered, Are there spaces for solitude, for lament, for grieving here?”

Of all places, the pulpit is where God’s people should be guided to a thorough biblical understanding of sorrow, grief, and suffering. Charles Spurgeon saw it as a pastoral responsibility to feed Psalms of lament to his congregation regularly for the purposes of ministering to those presently despondent, as well as to help others prepare for future suffering. He wanted his church to know that while King David experienced great victories and occasions to rejoice, he also had times when he “was very sad, and then he touched the mournful string.”

The Scriptures make room for the entire range of human emotions and experiences—particularly the ones we wish we could avoid through piety. It is of precious wisdom and value to understand that when the tribulations do arrive (John 16:331 Peter 4:12), we have a living God who has promised to be with us, to sustain us, and to ultimately deliver us. The Lord does not view our sorrows as something strange or repulsive, nor is he surprised by them. He long-suffers our sadnesses so we may learn the secret to being content in all circumstances (Philippians 4:11-13) In this way, faithful Christian living is not found in the avoidance of sadness, but in the engagement of it through faith in the Man of Sorrows himself. If the Scriptures offer such consolations, the pulpit must be the vehicle by which such blessed manna be spooned to the weary and worn.

CREATING MODERN-DAY LEPERS

When the Apostle Paul teaches we’re to bear one another’s burdens, he encourages us to focus especially on those in the household of faith (Galatians 6:10). Unfortunately, the church reveals its impatience for the weak and weeping by outsourcing the soul care of its sheep to secular sources. In doing so, believers are given the impression that the Scriptures are not capable of walking them through seasons of excessive sorrow. Like spiritual lepers, they’re cast outside the house of God to find their convalescence and healing. As Dr. Dale Johnson, the Executive Director for the Association of Certified Biblical Counselors, rightly observes: “The church has demonstrated we ought to be a last resort to many human problems.”

Scriptural sufficiency (2 Timothy 3:16-17) is rarely propounded in the local church as a resource for helping people navigate their sadness. Thus, the intentional discipleship of melancholy Christians is often entirely neglected. In instances where sufferers do seek biblical soul care from their church, it’s not uncommon to be met with trite slogans, impatient rebukes, or outright rejection altogether—further perpetuating the stigma of sorrow. The notion that human experiences of hopelessness, depression, and grief are problems only “professionals” can address is a gross disregard of what it means to belong to and be cared for by the body of Christ.

I know what it is to secretly sorrow in the pew—to mourn over my inability to match the emotional jubilation of those around me. Not only did my soul seem distant from God on those mornings, but I felt like a filthy pebble among diamonds in the sanctuary. What are we to do when sad people cannot lift themselves to the emotional heights we enjoy? We follow our Lord’s example and step down into their world. Vroegop encourages, “There is a song of mercy to be sung under dark clouds. The church should lead the way. Through every injustice and every sorrow, followers of Jesus can help one another find their way through the pain.”

In our local churches, we’re to help the weak and fainthearted with all patience and brotherly affection (1 Thessalonians 5:14). By corporately acknowledging the broken-hearted through worship, preaching, and one-another care, we affirm that sorrows of any kind rightly belong in the house of God. Such attentiveness, compassion, and Christian community can become one of the most blessed manifestations of Jesus Christ’s presence we can experience on this side of heaven.

Posted at: https://servantsofgrace.org/making-church-a-safe-place-for-sorrow/

The Stains That No One Sees : How Jesus Removes Our Shame

Article by Sam Allberry

In 1966, England charged to glory by winning the football World Cup. It fell on the captain, Bobby Moore, to have the honor of walking up the steps of Wembley Stadium to receive the trophy from the queen.

Asked afterward how he felt during that historic moment, Moore admitted that he was terrified. The queen, he’d noticed, was wearing pristine white gloves. His hands were covered in dirt from the match, and he was going to have to shake her hand. And so, as he walked up those steps, he frantically tried to wipe his hands clean.

Most of us have had some experience of being unclean. But of course, there is more than one kind of being dirty. We can feel desperately unclean on the inside too.

How Shame Feels

Mark’s Gospel introduces us to someone who knew all too well what it meant to feel unclean. In Mark 1:40–45, Jesus encounters a leper, someone whose skin condition left him ceremonially unclean according to Old Testament law. Leprosy was a particularly cruel condition. It was regarded as incurable and highly contagious. Those afflicted with it endured both physical discomfort and social isolation, and for something they did not do or bring on themselves. They were considered a spiritual, as well as a physical, contagion.

“At the cross Jesus took the full extent of my (and your) uncleanness onto himself.”

That might be how you feel: toxic, radioactive — a contagion.

It might be because of something you’ve done. In Shakespeare’s Macbeth, Lady Macbeth had been complicit in the murder of King Duncan, and it weighed so heavily on her that we hear of her trying to rub the blood off her hands in her sleep. “Will these hands ne’er be clean!” she cries. Shakespeare, it turns out, had incredible insight into the workings of a guilty subconscious.

Ashamed to Be Assaulted

It is not just our own actions that can leave us feeling unclean, though. Perhaps you’ve been on the receiving end of human evil, and it has left you with a deep sense of being unclean. One victim of sexual assault describes why she never opened up about it for so many years:

I told no one. In my mind, it was not an example of male aggression used against a girl to extract sex from her. In my mind, it was an example of how undesirable I was. It was proof that I was not the kind of girl you took to parties, or the kind of girl you wanted to get to know. I was the kind of girl you took to a deserted parking lot and tried to make give you sex. Telling someone would not be revealing what he had done; it would be revealing how deserving I was of that kind of treatment.

In her mind, this assault did not leave her with a feeling of her assailant’s dirtiness; it made her feel dirty.

‘You Can Make Me Clean’

So, we need to pay close attention to this encounter in Mark.

A leper came to him, imploring him, and kneeling said to him, “If you will, you can make me clean.” (Mark 1:40)

Again, his leprosy, as far as we know, was not a result of any sin he committed, but according to the law, he was not supposed to approach anyone. He knows, however, that Jesus has unique power — power to restore him, to cleanse him. “If you will” may indicate he knows he has no right to such healing. He does not presume that he deserves it.

Jesus is moved deeply by this man’s plight. He’s not indifferent. Jesus doesn’t back away in revulsion. He feels for this man. Jesus touches him. This may be the first time in decades this man had been touched by anyone.

“There is always more that’s right in Jesus than there is what’s wrong in us.”

This is what Jesus does with the uncleanness of those who come to him as this leper did. Rather than withdrawing in disgust, he draws near and reaches out to us. He moves toward us, not away from us. “Moved with pity, he stretched out his hand and touched him and said to him, ‘I will; be clean’” (Mark 1:41). Jesus is willing. And the effect is immediate and dramatic. “Immediately the leprosy left him, and he was made clean” (Mark 1:42).

More Grace in Christ

Lepers were to be separated from people because they were seen as a danger, a contaminant. When it comes to Jesus, however, it turns out the leprosy was the one at risk.

Jesus’s cleanness is a far more powerful contagion than any dirt we can bring to him. There is always more that’s right in Jesus than there is what’s wrong in us, more grace in him than offense in us, more forgiveness in him than sin in us. The very worst in us cannot compete with the best in Christ. We can’t sully him. He can only purify us. However deep our mess goes, his holiness goes deeper. We will never exhaust it.

I don’t find this easy to believe. I think I must be the exception — that my toxicity is too much for Jesus to contain. Sometimes this thinking looks like self-deprecation. People mistake it for humility. Actually, it is a form of pride — I am so significant that not even Jesus can contend with me. So, I need to believe what I see in Mark.

All Our Sin and Shame

After his healing, the cleansed man is told in the strongest terms not to tell anyone what has happened (except for a priest, so that he can be certified as ceremonially clean and rejoin society). Jesus is not ready for this to go public. And yet the man does the exact opposite, and the news rapidly spreads widely. The result?

He went out and began to talk freely about it, and to spread the news, so that Jesus could no longer openly enter a town, but was out in desolate places, and people were coming to him from every quarter. (Mark 1:45)

The two have swapped places. Previously the leper had been unable to enter towns and had to live in desolation. Now he is back in the community, and Jesus is forced to the desolate places. The outsider and the insider have reversed roles. In a sense, Jesus has become contaminated by this man. And it is key for us all.

How Christ Removes Shame

How can I know I really have cleansing in Christ from all my sin and shame? Because at the cross he took the full extent of my (and your) uncleanness onto himself. Every sin, every wound, every piece of brokenness and shame.

Jesus went through ultimate exclusion — not just from people, but also from his Father (Mark 15:34). He was made toxic so I can be made fragrant. He was shut out so I could be beckoned in. That doesn’t mean I never feel unclean. There is the ongoing attack of the accuser. Satan’s gonna Satan. But I have a place to look in my war against sin and shame.

Bobby Moore was left to ineffectively wipe his hands on his shorts, but Christ wipes us utterly clean of all that has made us most dirty.

Posted at: https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/the-stains-that-no-one-sees