Holding Both Our Light and Our Shadow
Wednesday of the Fourth Week of Lent – March 18, 2015
ANTONY had everyone’s respect. He was considerate of those he visited. An eager learner, he gathered the best traits from others. He copied the self-restraint of one, and the cheerfulness of another. He absorbed gentleness, a love for reading, and the value of nocturnal devotions. He admired one who fasted, praising his determination, and another who slept on the bare ground, honoring his empathy. Antony remembered the love he observed, pondering it and attempting to imitate the best virtues of each person he met. He was never provoked to anger; the only fire that burned in him was a desire to live even better. People called him “God’s friend.”
[Bernard Bangley, By Way of the Desert, p. 232]
Much of our addictiveness stems from the internal sense, imbedded deep within many of us, that we are fundamentally flawed. We don’t truly believe that we are okay. We live with a kind of toxic shame, convinced that we are inadequate as we are.
Much of the spirit of acquisition within us stems from this basic belief about ourselves. Commercials and advertisements play on our interior feelings of inadequacy, promising that with this product or that thing, we will be happy and secure. So we live under this illusion that something out there holds the key to happiness . . . a car, a house, a beauty product, the right job, etc. I think most of us truly know that this thinking is a sham, but shame is so deeply woven into our being that we can’t shake it.
“With a bit more of this, I’ll be happy.” “With another one of those things, I’ll be okay.”
Even some of our religious life feeds our shame. We fixate on our sinfulness, and sometimes act as if we are too bad to be forgiven. It must break God’s heart when we diminish the image of God that flames within us.
Growing Christians have a sense of who they are that is rooted in humility. The word “humility” comes from “humus,” and simply means grounded or rooted. Humility is not thinking less of yourself than is actually so. And humility is not thinking more of yourself than is so.
Rather, humility comes from that middle ground where we hold both our darkness and woundedness in one hand, and our strengths and light in the other. We hold both our blessedness and our shadows. We are honest about who we are, created in love with the image of God, and at the same time flawed.
You might try reflecting on a couple of things to see where you are. First, in your prayer, invite God to help you see – in all honesty – your light and goodness, that is, the strengths and gifts that are within you. Then, ask God to help you see your darkness or shadow, the places where you are broken or wounded. Once you’ve identified one or two things on each side, hold both ends of the spectrum in silence, perhaps with a whispered prayer that says something like, “God, this is who I am, both in my light and in my shadow.”
It’s also a helpful spiritual practice to occasionally ask yourself, “What things do I hold in my hands that I look to give me happiness?” “What possessions or relationships would it be most difficult for me to do without?” That might give you some sense of what you cling to for happiness.
ANTONY had everyone’s respect. He was considerate of those he visited. An eager learner, he gathered the best traits from others. He copied the self-restraint of one, and the cheerfulness of another. He absorbed gentleness, a love for reading, and the value of nocturnal devotions. He admired one who fasted, praising his determination, and another who slept on the bare ground, honoring his empathy. Antony remembered the love he observed, pondering it and attempting to imitate the best virtues of each person he met. He was never provoked to anger; the only fire that burned in him was a desire to live even better. People called him “God’s friend.”
[Bernard Bangley, By Way of the Desert, p. 232]
Much of our addictiveness stems from the internal sense, imbedded deep within many of us, that we are fundamentally flawed. We don’t truly believe that we are okay. We live with a kind of toxic shame, convinced that we are inadequate as we are.
Much of the spirit of acquisition within us stems from this basic belief about ourselves. Commercials and advertisements play on our interior feelings of inadequacy, promising that with this product or that thing, we will be happy and secure. So we live under this illusion that something out there holds the key to happiness . . . a car, a house, a beauty product, the right job, etc. I think most of us truly know that this thinking is a sham, but shame is so deeply woven into our being that we can’t shake it.
“With a bit more of this, I’ll be happy.” “With another one of those things, I’ll be okay.”
Even some of our religious life feeds our shame. We fixate on our sinfulness, and sometimes act as if we are too bad to be forgiven. It must break God’s heart when we diminish the image of God that flames within us.
Growing Christians have a sense of who they are that is rooted in humility. The word “humility” comes from “humus,” and simply means grounded or rooted. Humility is not thinking less of yourself than is actually so. And humility is not thinking more of yourself than is so.
Rather, humility comes from that middle ground where we hold both our darkness and woundedness in one hand, and our strengths and light in the other. We hold both our blessedness and our shadows. We are honest about who we are, created in love with the image of God, and at the same time flawed.
You might try reflecting on a couple of things to see where you are. First, in your prayer, invite God to help you see – in all honesty – your light and goodness, that is, the strengths and gifts that are within you. Then, ask God to help you see your darkness or shadow, the places where you are broken or wounded. Once you’ve identified one or two things on each side, hold both ends of the spectrum in silence, perhaps with a whispered prayer that says something like, “God, this is who I am, both in my light and in my shadow.”
It’s also a helpful spiritual practice to occasionally ask yourself, “What things do I hold in my hands that I look to give me happiness?” “What possessions or relationships would it be most difficult for me to do without?” That might give you some sense of what you cling to for happiness.
Comments
Post a Comment