May the Lord grant mercy to the household of Onesiphorus, because he often refreshed me and was not ashamed of my chain.
This is Paul’s second letter to Timothy, a letter full of talk of suffering and enduring. Apparently, Paul knew his time to meet the executioner was nearing, but he stood strong and proud despite his suffering. He asks God’s mercy on the house of Onesiphorus, because Onesiphorus was not ashamed of Paul’s chains.
So not only was Paul not ashamed of the situation he found himself, he valued those who also did not feel ashamed of the situation he found himself.
Shame is a powerful thing, so steeped in culture and history, it’s hard to pinpoint its source. For a while I was working my way through an art book, designed to open up our creative channels. The premise was that as small children, we played, sang songs, made art, with abandon. At some point, our exuberance for that self-expression is curtailed. Don’t sing so loud. You can’t be an artist. Look at how good her picture is. We become self conscious and nearly ashamed of our efforts. Identifying the source of that embarrassment is tricky, and hard to overcome.
My sick loved one frequently behaves in way that is outlandish, including their outfits and their conversations. From observation, it appears they are not embarrassed. And from observation, it appears that I am.
But I shouldn’t be embarrassed for them, any more than I should be embarrassed by anyone else’s behavior. Their behavior is their behavior, not mine. More important, I love them and their broken brain. I love them, and their dumb choices. I love them and their choices. There is something very powerful about abandoning the shackles of embarrassment and shame for others. It makes absolutely no sense.
And it’s even more powerful to abandon the shackles of embarrassment and shame for myself. Whether it’s my mediocre bowling, or attempts at art, it’s fully who I am. More poignant to me now as we head into summer clothing season is the whole body image embarrassment. I’m not a tall person, and frequently shopped in the ‘petite’ section, so things were short enough. Alas, I’m neither truly a petite person. I genuinely have big bones. I also have that middle-age body shape morphing happening. I’m definitely not petite, but have for years wanted to be. I wanted to have a different body shape too, while I’m at it. I’m built like my dad, who was a short and very stocky guy (28” inseam and probably 5’5”).
I can cognitively know that I don’t need to be embarrassed by my body. To be clear, I don’t cower in shame, but it rears its ugly head pretty regularly. I’d venture to guess that this is true for many, many women. And truth be told, none of should ever feel embarrassed by our bodies. This morning, I’m thinking about how to refuse to play into the body shaming, for me or anyone else.
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