taste

The body was felled,

the tree of life broken at last,

the fruit we tasted his bitter last supper.

as always, redeemed

again, returned

to this blank desert of horrors

to prove that there was a Promised Land

somewhere. Our forty years has not ended.

so we are pulled in two,

reeled in by the death, the inner evil

just to whet our lips with glorious water

that is blood, from the slain Rock

we drown in his death/we savor his life.

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Luke Harms’ “On Shame.”

from Luke Harms’ blog, Living in the Tension

On Shame.

There is a conversation happening. It’s an important one, birthed out of frustration over the modesty wars, purity culture, and a whole host of issues that are, I think, concrete manifestations of our misunderstanding of notions like love and grace. Also, I think it’s part of a broader conversation about shame and guilt versus hope and redemption, about oppression versus freedom.

There’s just one simple idea I want to add to the conversation. I want to shout this from the aisle of every church, put it in all caps on every internet message board and start a kickstarter campaign to buy some Super Bowl add time.

“There is no place for shame in the Kingdom of God.”

This Kingdom is built on a foundation of implacable love, every stone a story of redemption, of hope, of restoration. Our Cornerstone is Immanuel, God with us, and scandalous grace is the mortar that binds us all together in our shared heritage of son-and-daughter-ship.

Shame though, at its base, is about fear – fear of condemnation, of rejection, of not measuring up – but perfect Love – radical, self-sacrificing, other-embracing, redemptive Love – casts out all fear. Shaming then is nothing short of denying the primacy of this Love, and the power of grace. It says that God’s goodness, love, grace and kindness are not enough to draw us to repentance. It says that control, not love, is the nature of our relationship with God.

While Shame says “You can go no further because of what you’ve done,”
Grace says “I have already come all the way to you and further because of who you are to me.”

While Shame forces you into the darkness, to hide your face from the pain of condemnation,
Love lifts up your face and shines the light of redemption upon it.

Shame destroys. Grace restores. Love renews.

When Love breaks in, the shame that shackles us to the worst versions of ourselves is cast aside, and we are set free. Bonds are broken. In the solidarity of a family of sinners saved by grace, we find the hope that shame stole from us and the redemption that it denied us.

This truth seems to me to be no small thing, no simple platitude that utter lightly. It is not just a trifle to be put on a bracelet or a slogan to be splashed across a church bulletin. It’s a very real acknowledgement of the power of Love to break every chain, to heal every broken heart, to bind up every wound, to give rest to the weary, to save the world from itself.

When we preach shame, condemnation, guilt and oppression, our words ring cold and hollow, empty of the life-giving, words of that Truth. When we shame and condemn, we deny the power of the Gospel.  We can never shame someone into the Kingdom of God, nor scare them into loving community, but Grace makes all things new, and Love makes whole that which was broken.

In the end, Shame says “We can’t even start until you fix these things…”

Love says, “It is already finished.”

break my heart for what breaks Yours.

there, in the dim light, singing,

carrying hearts in our mouths, bared of all,

no longer looking at each other but

instead inwards,

seeking, searching, for a sacrifice worth offering.

finally turning in, I

jumped inside

plummeting like a stone to the bottom

of my guilt

covered in shame.

There, I

struggled, gasping

to accept this darkness that was me, filling me

so hard to accept that anything is over when I refuse to let go.

(It’s one thing to say you forgive

it’s another to say you forgive yourself)

There, clarity pooled

dragged out of my shadow

as guilt drained away, trickling, weakening

relaxed, let go

a toddling baby reaching for safety,

drowning in self, tossed by waves of pride,

You

called me.