"Humiliation is the beginning of sanctification. " --John Donne
According to Dictionary.com, to humiliate is to "cause a painful loss of pride, self-respect, dignity; mortify." No doubt, everyone has encountered and even fostered this feeling. I think back over relationships, romantic and not, in which I have humiliated and I have been humiliated. Situations with good intentions, but in all actuality wrong motives, have brought about much grief and much humiliation.
If you've ever felt lower than pond scum, you have felt humiliation. I think people who experience it the most are those people who care the most, who love the deepest, who yearn for a closeness, for intimacy. They put themselves "out there" the most only to draw back a stub. They end up feeling uncared for, unloved, and like there is a gulf between them and the people they most want to touch or the group they long to be a part of.
Recently, I let my guard down. I cracked the door and exposed a weakness in my armor. An area I thought I had sealed off was opened only to peel back the scab from unhealed wounds. Shocking to find those wounds are still so deep. While healing has taken place in so many areas, even in my mind, there are still some very raw places. What is the first thing I do? I turn inward.
I begin with why me? Then, why not me? Then, what is it about me? Then, why, God? Why did I let my guard down and why did I allow myself to go there, again? Of course, the microscope is brought out to enable further scrutiny of every look, action, thought while the recorder replays every sigh, every word spoken, every word unspoken. Finally, the speech entitled How Could You Be So Stupid? is recited over the loud speaker in my brain. What now?
I run hard and fast to my favorite cushion on the couch. I fall to my knees, I pray, I wait. I wait for the answers. They do not come. I busy myself with company, with housework, with my children all the while the cycle of the why me(s) and the why God(s) continue their humdrum march through my mind.
At the next opportunity, I run back to that same cushion, that same spot on the floor. I pray, I wait. Tears fall, but no answer comes. And the cycle begins, again. Only this time, the number of repetitions of that harsh speech diminishes. The space of time between trips to the cushion increases. Feeling begins to come back to my limbs that were numbed by that incredible shock of reality. I continue this pattern until the tears stop, the pain leaves or at the very least is anesthetized, full feeling comes back without cruelty, and I can think about something other than myself and my humiliation. Thus comes the sanctification. Otherwise, hurt turns to anger. Anger turns to unforgiveness. Unforgiveness turns to bitterness and/or hatred. I've been down that road and I have diligently, desperately worked my way back from some horrible places from where only God's grace and mercy could and did deliver me.
I've determined that if I have to run back to that cushion 100 times a day, I'll do it. If silent tears have to fall for several days, I'll let them come. If I have permanent knee imprints on the floor in front of my sofa, then so be it.
I will not go backwards. I will not turn inward. I will not be moved.
Psalm 141:8 "But my eyes are upon You, O GOD the Lord; In You I take refuge; Do not leave my soul destitute."
According to Dictionary.com, to humiliate is to "cause a painful loss of pride, self-respect, dignity; mortify." No doubt, everyone has encountered and even fostered this feeling. I think back over relationships, romantic and not, in which I have humiliated and I have been humiliated. Situations with good intentions, but in all actuality wrong motives, have brought about much grief and much humiliation.
If you've ever felt lower than pond scum, you have felt humiliation. I think people who experience it the most are those people who care the most, who love the deepest, who yearn for a closeness, for intimacy. They put themselves "out there" the most only to draw back a stub. They end up feeling uncared for, unloved, and like there is a gulf between them and the people they most want to touch or the group they long to be a part of.
Recently, I let my guard down. I cracked the door and exposed a weakness in my armor. An area I thought I had sealed off was opened only to peel back the scab from unhealed wounds. Shocking to find those wounds are still so deep. While healing has taken place in so many areas, even in my mind, there are still some very raw places. What is the first thing I do? I turn inward.
I begin with why me? Then, why not me? Then, what is it about me? Then, why, God? Why did I let my guard down and why did I allow myself to go there, again? Of course, the microscope is brought out to enable further scrutiny of every look, action, thought while the recorder replays every sigh, every word spoken, every word unspoken. Finally, the speech entitled How Could You Be So Stupid? is recited over the loud speaker in my brain. What now?
I run hard and fast to my favorite cushion on the couch. I fall to my knees, I pray, I wait. I wait for the answers. They do not come. I busy myself with company, with housework, with my children all the while the cycle of the why me(s) and the why God(s) continue their humdrum march through my mind.
At the next opportunity, I run back to that same cushion, that same spot on the floor. I pray, I wait. Tears fall, but no answer comes. And the cycle begins, again. Only this time, the number of repetitions of that harsh speech diminishes. The space of time between trips to the cushion increases. Feeling begins to come back to my limbs that were numbed by that incredible shock of reality. I continue this pattern until the tears stop, the pain leaves or at the very least is anesthetized, full feeling comes back without cruelty, and I can think about something other than myself and my humiliation. Thus comes the sanctification. Otherwise, hurt turns to anger. Anger turns to unforgiveness. Unforgiveness turns to bitterness and/or hatred. I've been down that road and I have diligently, desperately worked my way back from some horrible places from where only God's grace and mercy could and did deliver me.
I've determined that if I have to run back to that cushion 100 times a day, I'll do it. If silent tears have to fall for several days, I'll let them come. If I have permanent knee imprints on the floor in front of my sofa, then so be it.
I will not go backwards. I will not turn inward. I will not be moved.
Psalm 141:8 "But my eyes are upon You, O GOD the Lord; In You I take refuge; Do not leave my soul destitute."
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