The Hope That Broke Shame.

All of us, at some point, know what it is like to experience shame. It can range from simple embarrassment to things much more serious. So, most people know what the experience of shame is like, but most don’t understand whether it is good or bad, or what role it is supposed to play. People tend to think it is just an extreme form of guilt—like guilt on steroids. Guilt is feeling bad about something bad you did; shame is feeling really bad about it. But while guilt can produce shame, shame is different. Guilt is focused on the what; shame is focused on the who. Guilt says, I did something bad. Shame says, “I am something bad.” Shame says: I am defective. I am damaged. I am broken. I am flawed. I am dirty. I am ugly. I am impure. I am disgusting. I am unlovable. I am weak. I am pitiful. I am insignificant. I am worthless. I am unwanted.

Whenever the wave of shame hits I dive straight into the word.

Luke 8:40-48 talks about a woman consumed with shame and then Jesus lifts her out of it. It’s the answer for all of us consumed by shame, whether that shame is brought on by sin i.e. something we’ve done; or suffering—i.e. something done to us.

“Now when Jesus returned, a crowd welcomed him, for they were all expecting him. 41 Then a man named Jairus, a synagogue leader, came and fell at Jesus’ feet, pleading with him to come to his house 42 because his only daughter, a girl of about twelve, was dying. As Jesus was on his way, the crowds almost crushed him. 43 And a woman was there who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years,[a] but no one could heal her. 44 She came up behind him and touched the edge of his cloak, and immediately her bleeding stopped. 45 “Who touched me?” Jesus asked. When they all denied it, Peter said, “Master, the people are crowding and pressing against you.” 46 But Jesus said, “Someone touched me; I know that power has gone out from me.” 47 Then the woman, seeing that she could not go unnoticed, came trembling and fell at his feet. In the presence of all the people, she told why she had touched him and how she had been instantly healed. 48 Then he said to her, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace.”

Verse 43 says she had been bleeding for 12 years which means she wasn’t allowed in public for 12 years. No public worship. No place where others could come in contact with her. It means no one has touched her—for 12 years—lest they become unclean. For 12 years no one has hugged her or laid a hand on her to pray for her. She is outcast. Lonely. At one point she had so many hopes for her life—marriage, family, life in the community. All those seem over now. She’s hopeless.

One last observation about her this woman—and it comes from a detail that’s left out: She’s nameless. In contrast to Jairus, whose name everybody knows, Luke leaves this woman’s name out because no one knows who she is anyway. That’s intentional: She is hidden; she is invisible to people. That’s as much her choice, by the way, as anyone else’s—shame does that to people. It makes them want to hide lest they just get exposed and more humiliated. She has a disfigured face that keeps her out of public, behind closed doors—she doesn’t want even to be seen or known.

Jairus is the ruler of the synagogue; she’s not allowed in the synagogue. He was respected; she, rejected. His is a household name; hers is a name nobody knows. But both need Jesus just the same: He’s got a daughter, the apple of his eye, joy of his life, who is 12 years old and deathly sick. She’s an outcast and dead to community and dreams for 12 years.

What happens next might be the most profound moment in the Gospels, because it answers the most basic question of all religion: What is it like to be exposed in all of our shame and ugliness and mess before a holy God?

[48] And he said to her, “Daughter…” Not stranger. Or ma’am. Or even sister or friend. But a term of most intimate endearment: daughter. Tim Keller says you should probably read it something like, “Sweetheart.” BTW, it’s the only place in the Gospels where Jesus addresses someone this way. It’s the kind of word you would never use to address someone you just met.

Think about what is happening: The girl nobody wanted Jesus refers to as “precious sweetheart.” The girl no one would touch is now being embraced by the arms that shaped the stars. The name nobody else knows Jesus knows. He’s on more than a “first name basis” with her. He’s in the tender nickname stage. Don’t miss the contrast! Jairus is a dad who is pleading the cause of his 12-year-old daughter before Jesus. But this woman for 12 years has had no father to plead her cause! So, Jesus pleads it for her. And he won’t let her just steal a miracle in secret, because as much as he wants to heal her, and as great as that is, he also wants her to know the even greater thing—that she is loved, accepted and cherished.

Who are you? Say, “I am not what others say I am. I am not who I think I am. I am definitely not what somebody else did to me.” I am not defective, or damaged, or broken, or flawed, or dirty, or ugly, or impure, or disgusting, or unlovable, or weak, or pitiful, or insignificant, or worthless and definitely not unwanted. Who am I? I am who Christ says I am. I am forgiven. I am free. I am redeemed. I am healed. I am brand new. I am chosen. I am changed. I am blessed. I am beloved. I am complete. I am a child of God.