Afraid of My Glory
This week has been a difficult week. I recently began to go to a very large church with a young, hip, charismatic pastor. (Normally those types of pastors make me nervous because it is all about them instead of Jesus. But my pastor is a humble man who keeps pointing us to Jesus.)
Anyway, I wrote the pastor a letter last fall about how impactful a particular sermon series was on me. We met earlier this spring for the first time and I shared a bit about my abuse and struggle to rebuild my faith.
I was stunned this week when I received a text from him asking me if he could anonymously share part of my story in his Easter message. He talked of his admiration of me and my willingness to fight a long difficult battle and endure. This man has heard thousands of stories over the years from thousands of members of his congregation. I was humbled and wrecked that he was inspired by mine enough to include it in an Easter sermon.
I had an opportunity to watch him preach the sermon early in the week. Afterward I went home and wept in my wife’s arms considering the kind things he said about me in the sermon. It is the same reaction I have when my counselor says kind things about me. I usually have a panic attack and sob. I thought back to a book I read by John Eldredge.
In his book Waking the Dead, Eldredge says: “Your story didn’t start with sin...and doesn’t end with sin. It ends with your glory restored. “..you are being transformed....God is restoring your glory. He is bringing you alive because the glory of God is you fully alive”.
Eldredge immediately asks: “Well, then, if this is true why don’t I see it?” He answers: “The fact that you do not see your good heart and your glory is only proof of how effective the assault has been. We don’t see ourselves clearly”.
I have been assaulted sexually and emotionally. These assaults have been brutal and effective. They spoke a narrative over me that I have believed: that I am a worthless piece of shit. I have embraced that as my core identity. Kind words from people I admire are deeply disruptive and send me into a panic attack and sobbing. Kind words cause me distress because I don’t see myself the way others see me.
Eldredge goes onto say “we fear our glory....The deepest reason we fear our own glory is that once we let others see it they will have seen the truest us, and that is nakedness indeed.”
I considered, however, that Eldredge is only partially right. I also fear my glory because it demands a new way of being. And not surprisingly Eldredge addresses that. He continued: “to begin to let it be unveiled and embrace it as true - that means the next thing God will do is ask us to live from it.”
I want to see myself the way God and other people see me. I want words of affirmation to wash over me. I want to take them in like water offered to the lips of a thirsty man. I just don’t know how to believe what God and others say of me instead of what my abusers have spoken over me. I am afraid of letting go of the way I see myself to embrace a new way of seeing myself. But I still don't really understand why.
Anyway, I wrote the pastor a letter last fall about how impactful a particular sermon series was on me. We met earlier this spring for the first time and I shared a bit about my abuse and struggle to rebuild my faith.
I was stunned this week when I received a text from him asking me if he could anonymously share part of my story in his Easter message. He talked of his admiration of me and my willingness to fight a long difficult battle and endure. This man has heard thousands of stories over the years from thousands of members of his congregation. I was humbled and wrecked that he was inspired by mine enough to include it in an Easter sermon.
I had an opportunity to watch him preach the sermon early in the week. Afterward I went home and wept in my wife’s arms considering the kind things he said about me in the sermon. It is the same reaction I have when my counselor says kind things about me. I usually have a panic attack and sob. I thought back to a book I read by John Eldredge.
In his book Waking the Dead, Eldredge says: “Your story didn’t start with sin...and doesn’t end with sin. It ends with your glory restored. “..you are being transformed....God is restoring your glory. He is bringing you alive because the glory of God is you fully alive”.
Eldredge immediately asks: “Well, then, if this is true why don’t I see it?” He answers: “The fact that you do not see your good heart and your glory is only proof of how effective the assault has been. We don’t see ourselves clearly”.
I have been assaulted sexually and emotionally. These assaults have been brutal and effective. They spoke a narrative over me that I have believed: that I am a worthless piece of shit. I have embraced that as my core identity. Kind words from people I admire are deeply disruptive and send me into a panic attack and sobbing. Kind words cause me distress because I don’t see myself the way others see me.
Eldredge goes onto say “we fear our glory....The deepest reason we fear our own glory is that once we let others see it they will have seen the truest us, and that is nakedness indeed.”
I considered, however, that Eldredge is only partially right. I also fear my glory because it demands a new way of being. And not surprisingly Eldredge addresses that. He continued: “to begin to let it be unveiled and embrace it as true - that means the next thing God will do is ask us to live from it.”
I want to see myself the way God and other people see me. I want words of affirmation to wash over me. I want to take them in like water offered to the lips of a thirsty man. I just don’t know how to believe what God and others say of me instead of what my abusers have spoken over me. I am afraid of letting go of the way I see myself to embrace a new way of seeing myself. But I still don't really understand why.
Sounds funny. But written posts aren't quite the same as spoken words that Jesus says are a reflection of what's in our heart. Because we can re-read, edit, and change our written words - before and after they are posted. In face-face situations, we cannot. Even