guilt

Set Free Indeed

TARA GIBBS | CONTRIBUTOR As a young mother, I took my one and three-year-old toddlers with me weekly to visit an elderly homebound widow. Seeing this woman’s joy in the hugs and laughter of my two children was a delightful gift. But, as I left each week, I began noticing unsettling thoughts in my mind and heart: “It is so wonderful that you visit this woman with your toddlers each week! What a good thing you are doing! If people knew, they would really say nice things about you.” How frustrating it felt to not be able to do one thing without pride. I knew the solution was not to stop doing the right thing, but I wondered if there would ever be freedom from this weight of sin. I wondered, “Is the Christian life just one, long slog of feeling guilty all the time?” Twenty-five years later, I would commend my younger self for identifying and confessing the sin in my heart. But I would also encourage “younger me” that a continual slog of guilt is not how the Bible describes the Christian life. Repentance was in order, but when repentance turns into one more opportunity to over-focus on self, I have missed the mark. We can construct a false, self-made identity through focusing on good works, or we can build our self-made identity by over-focusing on guilt and shame. In both cases, I am the focus...

Shame: A Burden We Were Never Intended to Carry

I attended a wedding a little while ago and had an unexpected interaction with another guest. Moments before the bride walked down the aisle, there was a man seemingly trying to make eye contact with me. I didn’t recognize him, so I assumed he was looking at a clock or a bird or someone behind me. I just looked away. But, he continued and actually escalated his attempt at communication with a casual wave. Nonplussed, I waved back, hoping he would realize that we didn’t know each other. The whole exchange felt really awkward. And…yes, I’m single and I know what all of you are thinking. No. Anyway, after the ceremony, he hesitatingly approached me. He said, “You don’t remember me, do you?” I absolutely hate this question because I often forget meeting people. I answered as politely as I could that I didn’t remember him. He gave me his name, which helped slightly, then he reminded me that we worked within the same organization over a decade ago. You have to understand, I was vaguely beginning to put some memories in order. He then proceeded to tell me that since we worked together, he had become a Christian. He shared his story, in brief, and began to unpack the way he used to live before he came to faith in Christ. He continued and said that he believed that if he was ever afforded the opportunity to ask me to forgive him, he would. Forgive him? Forgive him for what? I didn’t even remember him.