Christian by Association

Merriam-Webster defines shameless as “insensible to disgrace.” This paints the picture of someone who has every reason to divert his eyes, hang his head, and stand outside the circle but doesn’t. As much as I hate to admit it, the beginning of praying with shameless audacity is embracing disgrace.

I am a talented man. It may be a bit forward to say, but I have yet to find something that cannot be accomplished with a little time and elbow grease. I don’t often find a conversation I cannot join. I play musical instruments, preach, start ministries, make friends easily, teach on the spot, sing, write, cook, and run. In the last year, I taught myself how to draw, outline curriculum, use Photoshop, how to create a video Bible study and play the saxophone. All my life, I have been under the impression that I can do anything I set my mind to do. Isn’t that the American Dream? We all hope that our children live with infinite hope in their own abilities in this, a limitless society.

But what if? What if I cannot become president, go the moon, or be valedictorian? What if I cannot find direction in life? What if I am not just confused about what to do but absolutely powerless to do anything? What then? What if I find that I need to knock on that door in the middle of the night and ask or, dare I say, beg for help?

I think of the story of Naaman from 2 Kings 5. Naaman was the captain of the host of the King of Syria. Verse 1 says that Naaman was “a great man with his master, and honorable, because by him the LORD had given deliverance unto Syria.” Naaman was a well respected and victorious leader of mighty men, and yet we find that life altering conjunction “but” immediately following the glorious description in verse 1. It says, “but he was a leper.”

One can only imagine the process through which Naaman trudged. One day, after a great victory in battle against the enemies of his king, Naaman removed his blood and sweat soaked tunic and began washing away the proof of his slaughter. Maybe it was on the back of his arm that he felt the first dry spot. As days became weeks, that dry patch of skin never slowed as it spread over his arms, his chest, and his neck. He might have hidden for a while under his General’s uniform, but the truth remained, he was a leper. Naaman had an entire army at his disposal, and yet he was powerless against this microscopic invader. It was not until he looked up from the pit of despair and allowed his disgrace to be known that a young Jewish slave told him of a healer in the land of Israel.

As the man of my house, as the leader of men, as a man of God, the realization of powerlessness brings shame. It reeks of disgrace. If there is one thing I hate above all else, it is humiliation. In fact, if you publicly humiliate me, you run the risk of joining my “You’re Dead to Me” list. At my very core, I hate being humiliated. Powerlessness equals humiliation. Jesus understands that we feel this way. He, more than any other, understands that we cannot be gods to ourselves and that we need Him. He understands that shame and disgrace are not comfortable. One might think Jesus would use His infinite wisdom and leave out the things that would cause His dear sweet children any discomfort. Isn’t that the God of love they preach about on television? Yeah right! If we ever hope to be what Jesus wants us to be, we must first understand our disgrace. But, understanding our disgrace is the easy part.

I’m sure that in the shanties and hobo-villes of the Great Depression, there was not a shortage of street tramps that could make the street life look like an adventure. It is not a coincidence that the Tramp from Disney’s “Lady and the Tramp” was the cool one. Admit it. We all wanted to be a little like the Aladdin at the beginning of the movie, when he sneaks through the market and hides from the guards. There is freedom in a world where spaghetti dinners fall out the back doors of every restaurant and monkeys are trained to steal fruit. Without accountability, life can be grabbed by the tail. Imagine a life without alarm clocks, deadlines, hungry babies to feed, tanks to fill, or bosses to please. 

Sleeping on the ground with all the other hoboes, you may look up at the sky and, for a brief moment, experience that feeling that there is something more, that a life of stealing and lying is shameful. Don’t worry. That feeling passes. You are the god of your own universe. Or are you?

It may have been drugs, alcohol, bad luck, or bad choices that put the derelict in his place, but it is only pride that keeps him there. A.W. Tozer said, “You will never be more than a common Christian until you give up your own interests and cease defending yourself.” This particular quote has a way of making the word “common” sound absolutely filthy. Common Christianity is not the goal. 

Remember the definition for shameless? It is not enough to understand disgrace, but to become insensible to disgrace, to own it. As Christianity becomes more and more a mainstream fad, epiphanies are taking the place of experiences. We may attend a retreat or service and realize that we need to confess our sin. That understanding is enough to make us feel that we have communed with God. Sadly, it is not. God does not want us to know we are sinners, He wants us to confess those sins and repent. It does not help the hobo to realize his disgrace. It only helps when he will own that disgrace and ask for help.

The same applies here. It is not enough to understand that we do not have what it takes to control our own lives. That is the epiphany. We are not short on epiphanies. We need experiences. The experience is openly and constantly admitting this to God and seeking His direction. Imagine if Naaman had accepted his leprosy but chose not to act. He would have died a leper. I do not want to die a leper.