How a group of humans showed me I could begin again

When love surprises our shame

Have you ever been so gently loved that you didn’t realize it was healing you?

On Sunday I stood in front of a faith community whose walked with me the past seven months and told them how much they’ve meant to me. Thing is — I didn’t write it out beforehand. When I got to that part of my sermon, I naively wrote, “Share what this community has meant to me.”

Cue my surprise at the tears welling up in my throat. I looked skyward and willed them to dry up. Then I locked eyes with a friend in the back row. She gently smiled and opened her hands toward me. My attempt to stop this public display of emotion stood no chance in the presence of their incredible love and care.

Through thick tears and vocal squeaks (awesome…), I told them how much I resisted entering their community. How I didn’t understand what they were about. How something kept calling me back. How I never thought I’d be a pastor again. How they loved me anyways. How their love dissolved my shame. How they helped me realize maybe I could be a pastor again.

Oh, friends. It was so so good.

Photo by Caroline Hernandez on Unsplash

Here’s the thing. I didn’t want love from them. It was a gig. Some extra money. I pulled old sermons and rewrote them a bit. The chip on my shoulder might as well have been a massive rock. If anything, I went in there looking to add to my list of reasons the Church was harmful and toxic. See, they’re like everyone else.

But damn it, they didn’t comply.

My shame marched in and threw reason after reason at them, waiting for the rejection I assumed would come. Waiting for them to turn a cold shoulder. Like a frustrated teenager, I pitched internal tantrums, royally confused at why they kept offering warm hugs and love for no reason at all. If only you knew.

One day in January, I told them something that I was FOR SURE would spell the end of this confusing relationship of love. Surely now they’ll see why I can’t pastor a church again.

Instead of turning away, they cried with me.
They affirmed my belovedness.
They saw me and never turned away.

My heart could hardly stand it.

But I kept showing up. We explored grief and love and faith together. We started gathering to discern their identity and values in this new season. Where might Love be leading them next?

This community of humans gave me two gifts, among others:

1. Love comes in surprising forms.

2. Love dissolves shame.

Love comes in surprising forms

We keep thinking life will follow the agenda we create. Even in the face of radically different data, our brain craves control and predictability. It’s tough to see where Love wants to surprise us. We move fast through our days or we drudge along, convinced the story in front of us is all there is.

I imagine Love tapping us on the shoulder. Over there. Try that thing. Meet that person. Quit that commitment you hate. Say yes to that thing that’s curious and scary. I’ve got you.

What stories do we hold about how we expect love to look? How it’s supposed to feel? Maybe we miss the love that’s trying to reach us because it’s housed in a body or a situation or a place we never thought to look.

Love dissolves shame

Shame loves to protect us from getting hurt again. Shame fires up the fear and justification treadmill and runs like hell, assuming we’ll believe every word Shame whispers in our ears. But what does Shame do in the presence of Love? Love has this fiercely gentle way of shining a light on Shame. Love removes the dark corners where Shame hides. And when Shame is truly seen, she so often starts to dissolve. Her story breaks down.

Because it’s not true.

Love relentlessly tells us the truth.
Over and over and over and over.

Until Shame takes a deep breath and lets go.

Photo by Kimson Doan on Unsplash

To my beloved friends at Everett Unity — thank you. You loved this pastor back to life. You showed me what community can feel like. The love that holds you together is a gift to our world. Thank you for your faithfulness and commitment to each other. Thank you for welcoming me, no questions asked. You’ll forever be a highlight of this chapter of my story. Because of you, I get to say yes to a new community of friends in Oregon. I get to be a pastor again.

Thank you.

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The Palms Up Path is a self-paced virtual on demand course that guides you to befriend your fear, question the stories you’ve been handed and deepen trust in yourself and the love that supports you. You’ll learn how to hold your life in a way that creates spaciousness and freedom. Designed by a writing pastor who journeyed deep into high-functioning anxiety and panic attacks, this course is for the anxious and exhausted among us who are in search of a better way to live.