Author: Bryan Lowe

Studying God's Word is my joy. I want you to understand that there is nothing greater than a life given to Him. I'm an ordained pastor who lives in Alaska.

Toxic Shame

“My disgrace is before me all day long,
and shame has covered my face.”

Psalm 44:15

Some years ago while in prayer I saw myself, apart of God. There was a marble fountain abandoned in a gorgeous courtyard. It was beautiful. As I looked I realized that it didn’t have clean fresh water like you might think, but it spewed feces and urine. It was gross, it was awful, and I immediately understood.

I suddenly realized that I was that marble fountain, and I was spouting out only filth.

Being ashamed is cruelty that can only destroy a person. We think we must have defense mechanisms to survive. We drink, use drugs, and get involved with sex. Some might put on a tie and raise their hands during our church worship time. Whatever works I suppose. Almost always shame drives us to look for ways to escape.

People who live with shame often feel worthless, depressed, and anxious.

Shame can be a contributing factor to depression, anxiety, and low self-esteem. People who are constantly ashamed live out a difficult emotional and mental battle each and every day.

The Hebrew word for “shame” is disgrace, confusion, or dishonor.

I believe only the power and blood of Jesus can purify me. Only He has the ability to clean my spirit. In the New Testament, we see Jesus healing the leper with just a touch. Shame will be removed from your heart when He touches your own “leprosy” of sin.

Here are things you must consider.

  • Shame separates me from God.
  • Shame is a sign of self-hatred.
  • Shame makes me feel like giving up.
  • Shame leads me to go out and sin more.
  • Shame destroys the gifts that He is waiting for me to serve others.
  • Shame makes me judgemental and critical of others.
  • Shame weakens the Church in ways I can’t comprehend.

God intends to move you out of shame and guilt. You must have faith to put His Word into practice before you can be really free. It will probably be a battle–every day. Faith is the only way to freedom. The following promise is crucial.

“But if we confess our sins to him, he can be depended on to forgive us and to cleanse us from every wrong. And it is perfectly proper for God to do this for us because Christ died to wash away our sins.”

1 John 1:9, LB

I must reiterate this, and use the authority God has given to me as a teacher of the Word, please shake off the humiliation you live in. You must do this.

I want you to be set free from shame.

Unless you step completely away from the shame of your life you’ll be destroyed by the enemy. I dare not pull any punches with you. I don’t mean to be hard, I really don’t. But I do understand. I really do.

“Once again you will have compassion on us. You will tread our sins beneath your feet; you will throw them into the depths of the ocean!”

Micah 7:19

You can be free from sin and shame. God has a way.

It is the cross of Jesus, and by His blood–that is the only way sin and shame can be cleansed from our lives. There is nothing else in the whole universe that will do this. Only the red blood can turn the black into white.

I strongly suggest you share your battle with another believer who will understand and be discreet. (Sharing this maybe is the step you’re missing?)

Shame is the ugly fountain that only produces deadly things. It’s that shame that keeps me from understanding that I’m the beloved of God and His precious child.

 

Fallow Ground

Today I realized that I was sick and very tired of myself. It’s really not disgust or even loathing. It’s more like weariness, exhaustion. I’ve never felt this way. In a strange way, it intrigues me. Could this definite disenchantment mean something spiritual? Does it have value, or am I just feeling self-absorbed or conceited?

There seems to exist a real rigidity to evil, something intense.

I have seen it up close– sin that hardens all who touch it, plain and simple. My growing immobility disturbs me, as I know I’m developing a “hardness of heart.” Atherosclerosis is a condition of a sick heart where arteries become blocked. It’s also known as the “hardening of the heart, or arteries.” It is a patient killer, slowly and surely making hard deposits that block the flow of blood.

The Bible speaks much about having a hard heart.

It also uses the metaphor of fallow ground that must be plowed up. Jesus used the same image in His “Parable of the Sower” in Matthew 13.

“A sower went out to sow. 4 And as he sowed, some seeds fell along the path, and the birds came and devoured them. 5 Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and immediately they sprang up, since they had no depth of soil, 6 but when the sun rose they were scorched. And since they had no root, they withered away. 7 Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them. 8 Other seeds fell on good soil and produced grain.”

There are really only four options.

  • The first is the seed that gets walked on.
  • The second lands on hard stones.
  • The third seed tries to grow in the thorns and thistles.
  • Only the fourth flourishes.

Heart of Stone Heart of Flesh
The Battle of the Heart

I have found that my own heart drifts. I myself struggle with a mental illness where my emotions fluctuate constantly. They gallivant around, floating here and then there. I may be depressed and suicidal in the morning, and then I can be euphoric in the evening. It’s having the identity of a “wandering star.”

But I so want my heart to soften. I want to grow. I really do.

I so want to sit with Jesus and hear His words. I need Him to share what He’s thinking about. Yet I know that any sin I entertain has a hardening effect on my spiritual heart. This scares me. But truly he still holds me close, and he keeps his steady loving hand on me. *

Never underestimate a hardened heart. Never overestimate His love to free you.

*

Catching Hearts Like Fish

Jesus called out to them, “Come, follow me, and I will show you how to fish for people!” 

–Matthew 4:19

The invitation to these fishermen was a ‘call’ to Himself. 

This is critical for us to note.  Jesus is not directing them to a broad set of religious ethics.  He is calling them to follow Him.  He is the exclusive Savior of everyone who needs a Savior.  We follow a man, not an idea.

There is also the intertwining of two distinct issues: That of evangelism, and that of discipleship.  The church for centuries has split these two, allowing them to be seen separately, and it hasn’t been healthy. These two distinct callings are to be welded together as one.

Typically we are focused on one or the other.

People will gravitate to their own gifting or temperament. But there is a potent strength when discipleship is paired with evangelism. We need disciples who can evangelize; and evangelists who are also disciples.

There is a sense of the comedic here in His call.  Jesus is suggesting that He will be teaching these veteran fisherman how to fish.  It’s apparent that these wizened men of the sea, had been fishing since they were mere boys.  Jesus essentially orders that Peter and Andrew stop what they were doing and follow, now.  Jesus would teach them “human fishing”– catching men!

By following, their old way would be forfeited. 

They could not do both, (but they did try and once even followed Peter back to the old life).  But a separation happens as hearts and minds become set apart on the invitation, and then jump out of the boat on to the beach.

Jesus would teach these men.  They would learn the most critical and vital truths ever communicated on this planet.  Their classroom would follow them, and their instructor was eminently qualified and supremely gifted.  These new followers will ‘rock’ their world.  They would truly become, ‘Fishers of Men’.

“The greatest form of praise is the sound of consecrated feet seeking out the lost and helpless.”

Billy Graham

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Life with Thorns

From desiringgod.org

Finding Strength in Physical Weakness

It’s easy to romanticize physical suffering — especially when you’re not the one experiencing it.

Saints like Amy Carmichael, who spent over twenty years bedridden, and Joni Eareckson Tada, a quadriplegic who lives in constant pain, can evoke peaceful images of unbroken communion with God. We may imagine that it’s easier for them to endure pain and weakness than it is for the rest of us.

Yet the reality of physical suffering is that it’s insistent and intrusive. No one gets used to it. Pain demands our attention. Time slows to a crawl, particularly in the middle of the night, when we’re begging God for the relief of sleep. We feel alone and isolated. No one else can enter the prison that our bodies have become.

Pain Accumulates

If that weren’t enough, physical pain rarely exists in isolation — it’s usually accompanied by loss, weakness, and dependence. Often, we require help with basic daily needs, and we worry about the burden we’re putting on others. We second-guess every request, not wanting to bother someone one more time. Will people get tired and think we’re “too much”? Do they resent their lack of freedom?

We longingly remember the carefree days before our physical struggles altered our lives, when we could do what we wanted. Now we measure our energy in teaspoons rather than buckets. We weigh every decision, every action. Saying yes to one activity means saying no to many others. It is hard not to envy those with fit bodies, who seem to have no cares.

Pain, loneliness, and longing can give way to depression and despair. We cry out to the Lord for relief, but relief doesn’t come. The cancer spreads. Sleep eludes us. The pain intensifies. The medicine stops working. The side effects multiply. Our caregivers grow weary. Our friends stop checking in. Our resources run dry.

Doubt Advances

The vibrant faith we once had begins to fade — which is exactly what Satan wants to happen as we suffer. He wants us to doubt and fall away from God, convinced that he is indifferent to our cries. Satan knows that we’re susceptible to discouragement when we’re physically depleted, so that’s when he attacks. As physical needs scream for attention, Satan whispers to us, “Does God even hear you, let alone really care for you? If he does, why isn’t he delivering you?”

“If God’s greatest blessing is himself, then perhaps sustenance is a more precious gift than deliverance.”

Insidious doubts slip in, making us question beliefs we once held rock-solid: Are we deeply loved by an all-powerful Father? As soon as we recognize the mental shift, we need to stop and cry out to God, asking him to meet us in our sorrow, to deliver us from our pain, and to show us evidence of his goodness and love. Are we fixating on all that we’ve lost, on how God hasn’t delivered us, on how hopeless we feel? Or do we recognize that God is with us, working for our good, and caring for us each moment?

What we think about in the moments of our deepest pain is critical. Our mindset will determine how we approach the questions that bombard us. Here are three common questions I’ve asked:

  1. How can God be “for me” if I’m still suffering?
  2. How can God use my weakness for good?
  3. What good can come in moments of overwhelming pain?

How can God be ‘for me’ if I’m still suffering?

Sometimes God miraculously delivers us when we plead for relief, like at the parting of the Red Sea. Other times he sustains us, as he did with manna in the wilderness. The Red Sea deliverance freed the Israelites, but their need for manna kept them dependent on God. In gathering manna, they had a harder time forgetting their reliance on God. And if God’s greatest blessing is himself, then perhaps sustenance is a more precious gift than deliverance, since it can keep us in constant communion with him.

Take the apostle Paul. He begged God for deliverance from his thorn in the flesh, but instead he received grace — grace to bear the thorn, grace to be content with weakness, grace that would carry him through other trials as well (2 Corinthians 12:7–10).

When we realize that we can depend on God in our weakness, we learn to trust him in everything. Anyone can thank God for quick deliverance from physical suffering, but we often forget him until the next crisis. Yet when he sustains us in our pain, we’re confident that he is with us always.

How can God use my physical weakness for good?

We may think our physical weakness is keeping us from maximum fruitfulness, but that’s impossible. Our weaknesses are a part of God’s plan for our lives; they are intertwined with our calling. Paul thought his thorn was hampering his ministry, but God knew that it was the key to his strength: it forced Paul to be wholly dependent on God. When we are depleted and exhausted, lacking any resources of our own — it is then that we fully rely on God.

And in that reliance, we discover the power of God flowing through us — the same power that raised Jesus from the dead (Ephesians 1:19–20). This power keeps us enduring when we want to give up; it showcases God’s glory and brings lasting change. Because Paul relied on God’s provision, he accomplished more for the kingdom with his thorn than he could have without it. His greatest strength lay in his submission to Christ.

Even Jesus’s greatest strength appeared in his greatest physical weakness.

Throughout his ministry, Jesus impacted others by his actions. He calmed the storm with a word. He fed five thousand with a few loaves and fish. He cast out demons, healed the sick, and raised the dead. He turned the world upside down.

But at the end of his ministry, from the Last Supper on, Jesus allowed others to act upon him: he was led away, he was whipped and mocked, he was beaten and crucified. When he submitted to his captors, the crowds saw weakness rather than what was really there: Jesus’s strength and power.

Just before these horrific events, Jesus begged God to take the cup of suffering from him. But it was through Christ’s submission to the will of the Father — to torture and humiliation, to physical abuse and carrying his own cross — that God brought about the most astonishing display of his power and grace.

Article by Vaneetha Rendall Risner