One particular scene revealing this theme of shame is especially poignant. Traveling “back home” to attend to the funeral arrangements of his father, Drew Baylor (Orlando Bloom) meets a happily persistent flight attendant (played delightfully by Kirsten Dunst). Their ensuing relationship leads Drew to a moment of confession: what she doesn’t know is that he’s a “spectacular failure,”- thanks to a hugely unpopular and costly sneaker design that hits the skids - to the tune of almost a billion dollars.
As Drew bleeds out his bleak news (his “dark appointment with destiny”) to Claire – news which will hit the newspaper stands the very next day - he wonders how he might, in fact, disappear. (There’s a particularly funny attempt to do away with himself earlier in the film, but even in this, he’s a failure). Unable because of his shame to pursue his interest in Claire, Drew sees his very existence through the lens of his failure, stating “that’s my secret. That’s who I am.”
Shame, it seems, is like that, isn’t it? Not only does it dig it’s sharp claws into our very soul, wrenching our enjoyment of others right out of life, it seems to attach itself to who we are – our very identity. We feel as if hiding, or disappearing from the gaze of others, is the only option. No wonder Sartre called shame a “hemorrhaging of the soul.”
The Beginnings of Shame
Elizabethtown rightly pictures shame as intensely relational – an experience primarily involving another’s eyes. When Genesis first pictures Adam and Eve as “naked and without shame,” (Gen. 2:25) we get the idea that in each other’s original gaze, there was nothing but complete and utter acceptance, a purity of love. Can we imagine such a state? Absolute harmony, with God and man.Surely this made for enjoyment in their looking, both at each other and all the beauty God had made. And just as the refrain is repeated throughout all creation, for this first couple, it was truly “all good.” (Notice too how our essential dignity is also established, (fashioned in “His image”), answering that first question of all questions – “who are we, really?”
Our place in the universe then is not accidental, but intentional and immediately relational - made to know and reflect our Father. Our counseling goal, to reestablish relationship with God our maker, is clearly established from the first three chapters of Scripture.) But it’s what we do next that becomes the real issue.
CS Lewis, in his space-novel Perelandra, pictures in a unique way what transpires – albeit, on a fictional planet. In Lewis’s world, it’s as if the Tempter handed a mirror to the woman, so that she might gaze inward - at herself. Here on earth, however, the lie is literally spoken: she could be independent. (Adam is of course, quite culpable – he wimped out on crushing the serpent and protecting his wife.)
Then the lie then grows even more sinister: Eve and her husband could be as God himself, knowing not only the beauty of good, but now also the agony of adultery, the poison of pride, and the despair of death. (Did we really need to know that?) Realizing their nakedness of soul, our first parents sought to cover their shame and rebellion with flimsy “fig-leaves” of their own design. In so doing, they reveal two more crucial aspects of shame: a sense of exposure, and blame-shifting. No longer is there a joy in “being known.” The only recourse is to hide, to try to deflect and control each other’s gaze, and (sadly) to make each other the problem in order to salvage some sense of self.
More Than Forgiveness
All of us need desperately to be forgiven. But is it possible that we now actually need more than God’s forgiveness – as essential as that is? Like Drew Baylor, it’s not merely that we occasionally fail (a sense of guilt) with poor choices. What is also true is that we are in fact failures - at our very center. Have we not all felt this?
Dan Allender relates the story of a boy who was sent out to the store by a teacher to buy napkins for his class. He returns with a huge box of sanitary napkins, completely unaware of his mistake. The teacher’s face, as well as the laughter of his classmates, causes him to want to disappear in horror. Will he ever want to volunteer his service again?
We can all relate to such stories. Someone lies about us, and our reputation is crushed. We want to retreat, to build walls of perfectionism and protection so that it never happens again. We mess up big time (like Drew), and are exposed as "inadequate." Or perhaps the shame is dreadfully cast on us by another, such as in sexual abuse. A young girl is molested, killing her deep longings to be wanted by anyone ever again. All of the sudden her own body – once a beautiful flower unfolding – becomes an object to be despised. After all, it seemed to get her into trouble, and bring shame. For her, intimacy equals pain and shame, so why bother? Avoid being known and loved by another, at all costs.
A Refuge for Our Shame
But what if we were truly known, exposed before someone whose eyes truly matter, yet still loved? Here is where Claire shines in the film, in a moment of grace that disarms Drew:
“Do you think I care about that [his failure]? …You want to be really great? Then have the courage to fail big and stick around…make ‘em wonder why you’re still smiling. That’s true greatness to me…”
Where does such courage to "stick around," even smile at ourselves, really come from?
As we look for the grace of God revealed in Scripture – centered particularly on One who would come and crush the Tempter’s shameful head – we see a wonderful promise revealed:
Do not be afraid; you will not suffer shame. Do not fear disgrace; you will not be humiliated. You will forget the shame of your youth.” (Isaiah 54:4)
But how, we say? Consider what this Rescuer does. Two thousand years ago, on a Roman cross, he becomes humiliated – naked for all to see. Imagine it! What would you feel if you were paraded naked through a city, then raised up, abused and bleeding, for all to see? But it’s not actually for himself that this shame is upon him – it’s for you. It’s your shame he bore, yours and mine. He does it so, as David said:
"No one whose hope is in you will ever be put to shame.” (Psalm 25:3)
So what’s your greatest nightmare? Whatever it is, it’s not remedied in self-protection. Not found in the “safety” of disengaging. It’s remedied only in being known, being seen by the most important eyes in the universe, and yet loved in His Son. It’s healed in embracing a new identity – beloved son or daughter. He takes your shame, and you wear the clothes of royalty. And the good news is, these "Emperor's new clothes" are real.
So you are free now to confess now what you really are. When you find yourself retreating in shame again, ask him to tear down your walls of safety, so that you can actually breathe his free air. And He will. And as He does, you will find healing for your shame beyond your wildest dreams.
