Like many people, I have, at times, worked very hard to be someone I’m not. Somehow I got it in my head that the best version of myself looked like . . . well . . . something that wasn’t possible for me.
Perhaps this was motivated by feelings of shame, or a desire to be loved, or just general insecurity. All these are probably true.
In acknowledging these things, however, I’m also acknowledging my desire for the impossible produced problematic behaviours in me.
Because there were parts of myself I simply could not accept, I worked hard to cover them over. If any of these were brought up in conversation, I would respond defensively. When I felt shame keenly, I would attempt to project perfection even more aggressively. You can imagine the results.
Ironically, in my desire to project perfection, my imperfections became more and more apparent. In some ways, this should not be surprising. But how do we understand this, if it can be understood at all?
In my desire to project perfection, my imperfections became more and more apparent.
Many religious traditions have founders who embodied a seemingly unattainable perfection. At least within my Protestant Christian heritage, we were supposed to worship Jesus as God incarnate. We were also to follow his moral teachings. But this was accompanied with an awareness that no one could ever reach his “level”, so to speak.
In believing this, I was also taught I should hate those parts of myself that did not reach Jesus’ standard. I therefore experienced war within myself. From my perspective, so much of me was unacceptable from both Divine and human standards. How could I ever embody what Jesus was calling me to be if so much of me was simply “wrong”?
Believing I ought to strive toward an unreachable perfection thus drove my already low self-esteem lower. In my own acceptance of these teachings, guilt and shame became a way of life.
For most of my formative years, then, I was, to some extent, unfortunately imprisoned by my sense of deep imperfection. These perceptions were reinforced by the teachings of my faith. In my experience, my faith encouraged my feelings of shame. Jesus’ worthiness of worship was affirmed by my perceptions of my own inner ugliness.
The challenge for me, then, was to find a version of faith and spirituality that could actually free me from guilt and shame, rather than reinforce it.
Jesus’ worthiness of worship was affirmed by my perceptions of my own inner ugliness.
It should come as no surprise, then, that over the years I have given a lot of thought to what constitutes healing. I have also thought a lot about how I can consistently and intentionally move in that direction.
Here’s where I’ve landed (for now):
Healing does not come when we strive toward impossible standards. Rather, healing comes when we recognize our striving as futile.
Healing does not come when we are motivated to overcome dominant feelings of guilt or shame. Rather, healing comes when we accept our feelings of shame and guilt, but also recognize how much more of us does not cause these things.
Healing does not come when we allow our relationships and traditions to reinforce beliefs that imprison us. Rather, healing comes when we hold a mirror up to harmful relationships and systems. We do not do this to make people and systems hurt as they have hurt us. We do this instead to repair the shared brokenness that enabled the harm to occur in the first place.
Healing does not come when we resign ourselves to playing the role of victim. Rather, healing comes when we recognize we are all victims, oppressed and oppressors alike. Once we recognize this, we can then start learning from one another, being open and frank about how we have all been hurt in one way or another. None of this is to blame the other. Rather, it is done to acknowledge how all our own experiences of being hurt have caused us to harm others. It is to acknowledge our need for forgiveness.
Healing does not come when we hold on to past conflicts. This only perpetuates the shame and guilt we might feel. This also prompts us to perpetuate the conflict. Rather, healing comes when we use our conflicts as a means for transformation–transformation within ourselves and in our relationships with others.
Naturally, all this entails we consistently engage in processes of letting go and forgiving. But, even more so, it means we persistently work to turn our enemies into friends. This, perhaps, is the hardest dimension of healing anyone might dare to undertake.
Yet to get there, it also means we must begin by letting go of our resentments and shame concerning ourselves. In my experience, it is this internal letting go that is much more difficult than forgiving others.
Healing means we begin by forgiving ourselves, even of those things we might not want shared publicly.
Much of this might again seem to have set up an impossible standard. I acknowledge that, yes, it is hard. But it is not unattainable.
By focusing on the concreteness of my feelings, beliefs, attitudes, and actions, I have given myself specific things to work with.
The good news? All these things are within my control. Yes, there is a lot of hard work that goes into shifting my longstanding emotions and attitudes. But all this is eminently attainable. And, as I consistenly engage this work, my behaviours and actions follow.
Anyone who has received an email from me knows I have a quote from Mahatma Ghandi in my signature: “Be the change you want to see in the world.”
Unless I can accept and transform my own tendencies to hate, oppress, and hurt others, I can only assist others in doing the same in a very limited way.
Somehow, the capacity to be deeply at home with myself, in all my warts, failings, and imperfections, is that which can produce the deepest healing, for myself and for those around me.
This does not mean I give up the work of becoming a better version of myself–quite the opposite. Rather, by doing the work to produce (sometimes painfully) honest appraisals of myself, that’s when I can start building deep and lasting change.
By being honest with myself in this way I can build the deep self- acceptance I need to accept and work with others in corresponding depth.
By being (sometimes painfully) honest with myself, I can build the deep self-acceptance I need to accept and work with others.
I recently came across a compelling reinterpretation of an idea I was familiar with in childhood. It’s something like this: The responsibility of Christians is to show the Christ to the world.
Previously, I would have interpreted this to mean “Christians need to go out and make converts by whatever means necessary.”
To be clear, I no longer believe everyone needs to worship Jesus to merit divine favour.
Rather, I now understand that showing the Christ to the world means, in part, embodying the deep self-acceptance that facilitates healing in one’s self and others.
The Christian faith teaches that Jesus was fully Divine and fully human. From my perspective, this means that Jesus so fully accepted his humanity that Divinity radiated forth from him fully. This means, then, we can follow Jesus’ example by embracing our own full humanity in all its distinctive humble glory.
Remember, Jesus’ embrace of humanity aligned him with the poor, the sick, and the dying. All of us experience different kinds of poverty; all of us have been and will be sick at different times and in different ways; and, whether we like it or not, all of us will die various kinds of deaths.
Divnity can be found in all of this–sometimes because of it. For Divinity to be liberated into its full radiance in us, then, we cannot bypass the realities of human existence. It is rather through acknowledging and engaging all our human foibles and follies that we can release them into the Infinite, being transformed into better people in the process.
The path Jesus revealed therefore leads into deeper engagements with our humanness, rather than away from it.
The path leads into deeper engagements with our humanness, rather than away from it.
All of us are Divinely loved, deeply and transformingly, if only we can learn to love ourselves this way, imperfections, warts, and all.
Ultimately, it is love that beckons us into transformation; shame and guilt only perpetuate themselves.
When love comes your way, then, may you follow it, be transformed by it, and, in turn, bring it to others. As Canadian singer/songwriter Bruce Cockburn says, love will find a way.
May love be your way; may it also be your way with others. Love will find a way. May it be your way, today.
References
Bourgeault, C. (2008). The Wisdom Jesus: Transforming Heart and Mind–a New Perspective on Christ and His Message. Boston, MA: Shambhala Press.
Panikkar, R. (2004). Christophany: The Fullness of Man. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books.
Wilber, K., Patten, T., Leonard, A., and Morelli, M. (2008). Integral Life Practice: A 21st-Century Blueprint for Physical Health, Emotional Balance, Mental Clarity, and Spiritual Awakening. Boston, MA: Integral Books.
Disclaimer: The advice and suggestions offered on this site are not substitutes for consultation with qualified mental or spiritual health professionals. The perspectives offered here are those of the author, not of those professionals with whom readers might have relationships as clients or patients. In crisis situations, readers are encouraged to contact these professionals for appropriate support and treatment if needed.
Reflective Life 