NO SHAME IN HIS GAME

Every summer, I pick a book for my son and me to read together. This year, we read The Prodigal God by Timothy Keller. 

My 15-year-old and I were talking about it today…and he said, 

“He wasn’t ashamed of his son.” 

(Beautiful observation.) 

His son had squandered his inheritance, publicly disgraced his family, and returned home with absolutely nothing to show for it. In that culture, the father had every reason to distance himself from his son’s behavior. 

And instead, he ran toward him. 

He embraced him. He celebrated him. He broke cultural expectations by publicly restoring him as his son, clothing him in his best robe and giving him a ring and sandals. (Luke 15:22) 

There was no shame in his game. 

My friends and I have a running joke that I should have been a priest because people often find themselves “confessing” their sins to me. I don’t think that’s because there’s anything particularly special about me. But I do wonder if it’s because I’ve experienced a God who doesn’t shame me…and I want others to experience that same grace, even if it’s just a morsel. 

But I actually think it’s easy to place people into categories. Good people. Bad people. People who are worthy. People who don’t stand a chance. 

Why do I/we do that? 

There’s some fascinating psychology behind this. Research contends that comparing ourselves to people we consider morally worse can reinforce our own sense of goodness. We may not say or even actually think, “At least I’m not as bad as them.” But we feel it. 

I wonder how often we confuse that feeling with righteousness. 

(Pause and read that again.) 

And, how often does shame become a way of creating distance between ourselves and people whose decisions we find, well, unrighteous? 

I don’t think the Gospel gives us that luxury. 

At all. 

It tells us we’ve all fallen short. All of us. 

Our sins may look different. Their consequences may be different. But our need for redemption is exactly the same. We can condemn harmful behavior without condemning entire communities. We can demand consequences while still believing in redemption. 

Those aren’t competing convictions. 

Psychology research distinguishes guilt from shame. Guilt focuses on what we’ve done wrong and can motivate us to make things right. Whereas shame attacks our sense of who we are and often makes us want to hide. 

And I’ve been wondering… 

How often do my/our words invite people toward redemption…and how often do they convince people they don’t deserve it? 

Shame separates. 

Redemption pulls in. 

Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 5:20 that we are Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making His appeal through us. 

Through us! 

Not just through our churches, businesses, or missionary efforts. Through the way we speak about people. The way we see them. The way we respond when we’re angry or afraid. 

I don’t want to be used as a tool for shame. Ever. 

And I keep coming back to what my son noticed. 

The father knew exactly what his son had done. But he didn’t make him stand at a distance and prove he was worthy of coming home. 

He ran. 

When people hear the way I talk about others, do they hear the heart of a father running toward his lost son? Or someone trying to keep him away? 

Because if we’re going to represent Jesus to the world, people should recognize His heart in ours.