When Honor Trumps Shame

 I thought I knew what honor meant. I thought I understood the cultural inference, the delicate dance between one ethnicity and another. I thought I had left shame far behind when that little girl was dunked in the pool declaring my allegiance to the King of kings and no other. I thought all these things until about a week ago. 

I had been working hard all day, fighting a nagging head cold and extreme exhaustion. My mind was fatigued from hours of brainwork on the computer. Then, the afternoon rolled around and I was using every ounce of willpower to move mattresses, an obstinate grill, and tools and wood up and down flights of stairs. The day felt like it would never end. Meanwhile, I was aware that a team of individuals had come out and were working with Tina in the garden, but honestly I had no desire to meet them and I felt filthy and gross. My final errand required me to walk out past them as they congregated to head out. Forcing myself to be hospitable, I stepped out. My dirty hands were full of replacement lightbulbs, my face streaked with black dust. I had no idea what I was going to say, but I wanted to honor them for coming out. 

Introducing myself, I stated that I lived here and immediately attention was drawn because with that statement came the expectation of knowledge. And as I had expected, Judah, the leader asked for me to tell the story. So, I did - recounting bits and pieces from the the 6 years I've been here and tying in the story of the garden where they had worked. They seemed elated to be a small part of the story and I was happy to have conveyed the gratitude we felt. Then, Judah asked if they could pray for us and I sensed the honor reciprocated despite my lack of proper presentation.  It was in that moment as thought I could see myself as a general weary and worn from battle. This other leader, carrying his own burden of responsibility and his own scars from battle, had briefly joined forces with ours and now as he headed out was saluting in respect of who I am and what I carried - from one general to another. No longer do the dirty hands and streaked face represent shame but rather they tell tales of the battles I fought and the stories I've lived through. 

And here is another moment - I texted my leader about the events of the day and how he would be proud of me for talking to the group. He replied with, "You're right about one thing and wrong about another - I am proud of what you did, but I was already proud of you anyways." In other words, even if I had stayed hidden in the house until the team had left, he would have been proud of me. This wrecked my rational mind and yet I knew it was God pointing to a deeper level of me that believed that I needed to prove my honor otherwise I would bring shame to myself and my team. 

Flashback with me to a moment a week earlier with a mentor couple at their house. I was lounging on their couch and they were sitting across from me listening intently and probing my heart with gentle, yet pointed questions. I had just spilled out to them the cultural mindset I grew up under with everything bringing honor or shame on me and my family. It seemed that no matter where I turned - believer or non-believer alike - I faced the daunting reality that my honor and those of whom I love depended on what I did. If I failed in any of the cultural or self-perceived standards, I brought shame on us all. Subconsciously throughout the years this mindset had ruled so many of my decisions. Thoughts like "If I say this, how will it reflect on my family?" or "If I wear this will it negatively affect those close to me?" or "If I do this, what kind of message will it send about my team?" 

All this came to a point when my mentor friend said one of the most obvious yet challenging statements to me: "Your honor doesn't come from what you do but who you are." I knew that to be true in my head, yet the reality of what this statement meant exploded before me as she spoke. What if instead of living my life in order to achieve honor for myself and those I hold dear - I live from the place of honor? What if my honor is more about the radiance of the Son living in me than it is about what I do, wear, or say?

In Genesis 2, the Lord says Adam and Eve were naked and knew no shame. I would say nakedness is one of the most shameful expressions of being publicly exposed and ridiculed now, yet before the fall they knew no shame. Why? Now hear me out - I'm not advocating for walking around naked literally, but what if we are so confident in the skin God has given us that everything we do (the way we dress, act, and talk) flows from this reality instead of the other way around? The Hebrew word for "shame" in this passage describes disappointment or dismay. They had no fear of disappointing God! As my one friend likes to put it - God cannot be disappointed because He knows all. And yet ever since the fall, this lie has sneaked into our thinking that somehow if we were just a little bit more like God everything would be better. In actuality what does God say? "I have created them in My image" (Gen. 1 paraphrased). Later on in Psalms 34:5 it is written: "Those who look to Him are radiant - their faces are never covered in shame." Therefore, it's not if I walk in dignity and honor, I'll be like God and please Him. Rather - because I bear the likeness of Christ I can walk in dignity and honor. I have nothing to prove! I simply am His daughter and He's already proud of me.