I went on a movie date this weekend with my Hubby Guy. We saw a preview for a new movie with Rebel Wilson called “Isn’t It Romantic”. In the movie her character gets injured and wakes up in a parallel universe where her life is a romantic comedy. I gotta say… that sounds pretty good (the romantic comedy part, not the injury part).

Again, I say to you, Life is Hard!

I’ve had a couple of experiences recently where I’ve experienced first hand and come face to face with painful emotions in real time.  I don’t typically share about such sensitive things so close on the heels of the experience.  I just can’t stop thinking about it.

I had a panic attack last week. It was an extremely otherworldly experience. I found myself in the lobby of The University of Virginia Medical Center, hyperventilating, numb, with giant tears running down my face. I became aware that I was frozen to a particular spot. It was kinda like that scene in the movies where the character dies but comes back and the people are all still going about their lives and can’t see the character.  I was aware that there were people all around me. No one spoke or even acted like they saw me. I probably looked like a crazed maniac. I can’t say that I blame them for leaving me to it. Hospitals are awful places; full of people walking through terrible, life altering and life ending events.  I managed enough fortitude to survive the panic alone in a room full of people. Go me!

I have thought about that event a lot since it happened. Because I am analytical by nature, I have needed to tear apart what exactly I felt that elicited that intense response.

I was talking to a friend this week who is walking through some intense times in life. While talking to her, a particularly formidable foe stepped out of the shadows in my mind. I don’t know that I have ever seen him as clearly as I did then. His favorite holiday must be Halloween, as he is typically in costume. I have seen him dressed as sadness, anger, and even inauthentic joy. That day, though, he was his natural hideous self without any masks. His name is Shame and he plays dirty. 

One of the ways Webster’s defines shame is “a painful emotion caused by consciousness of guilt, shortcoming, or impropriety.”  Shame is something experienced by anyone who can tell right from wrong. I don’t know anyone who enjoys being on the wrong side of truth or justice. We are wired to want to be accepted and included. Shame plays a role in keeping us in line. That is a good thing, as long as we are equipped to respond appropriately.

In my friend’s case, she was convinced she isn’t worthy of life because of a string of bad choices. As I listened to her I became angry. Not angry at her.. but ANGRY at the enemy who has so skillfully weaponized shame in her life. That is the truth of the matter… shame may be the weapon of the enemy used most exactingly against us. Things get tricky when we let shame trick us into believing that we are MEASURED by our guilt, shortcomings, improprieties or any other less than desirable behavior. That is a flat lie. Life simply isn’t that one dimensional. We are more than our biggest mess up or our worst choice. We are more than the labels life sticks on us.

I realized that I had let shame sneak up on me last week. His taunts spun me into my panic. I lost an entire evening and made myself physically ill from standing next to shame’s measuring stick. I let myself believe a stack of false accusations that I basically made up myself because of the set of circumstances I found myself in. That is the definition of crazy! The good news for me was that the Lord sent a precious friend, that very evening, to hug me, feed me, and talk me through it. God is good.

As I sit here and talk about shame, I want to rant about the topic. Instead, I want to say this to you (and to me) … God knows the whole story from beginning to end (Psalm 139). He loves us in the midst of our circumstances, our guilt, our shortcomings, and our improprieties. He never comes at us with a measuring stick. He comes reminding us of His CROSS where Jesus Paid. It. All.  I want to shout that from the rooftops. The only label He has for us is LOVED.

I tell my daughters every chance I get that I am their biggest fan. I love them beyond the situations they get themselves into. It is not a difficult thing for me to believe that God loves me even more than that. He loves my daughters more than that. He loves my friend more than that. He loves YOU more than that. His love is perfect and infinite. That is good news.

Some friends of mine like to say “Suck it, Satan”. It is typically a bit too crass of a statement to suit me. In this instance, though, it is EXACTLY how I feel. I know the ultimate ending. God wins.