Don’t Scratch That Itch

Restlessness is a lot like a vague itch. It hides under your clothes. And sometimes it feels like no matter how much you try to scratch it through your sweater it’s hiding right under the surface of your skin. Itches are rarely seen and most of the time they’re pretty benign. But sometimes you take off your coat and realize you’ve been nursing a pressure sore that is slowly eating you away.

I listened to Tim Keller’s sermon on Hebrews 4 last week and realized that restlessness is seen in the boredom of being alone and the inescapable cycles of busyness we live in. We like to deal with our restless itch by scratching it with our activities and rituals and relationships, as though being busier would make that itch go away rather than eventually break out of the skin and bleed out our soul.

Some people have a megaphone conscience and acutely feel the restlessness it generates. Others more self assured, pour themselves into their accomplishments, unable to stop, not so much ignoring the restlessness but being unaware of what truly drives them. They can only sense a vague unease and the inability to be alone by themselves. No wonder laying down to sleep can be a terror for so many. Restlessness can have many masks and who knows where else she lurks? Underlying all of that is a relational problem of your self’s inability to relate its self to its self.

I wish I was like a child again! When we were children we would fear the boogeyman at night but as adults we dread ourselves. While half of me is faced with my shortcomings the other looks up into the blinding radiance of God’s being. The infinite gap between God and myself, is like a beautiful woman that terrifies and makes you conscious of your own deficits. As Keller preached on Hebrews 4, I was reminded that we’re always trying to cover that up by our own priestly sacrifices to get rid of that unclean restlessness.

Like every human, I long to be okay. But what do you do when the measuring stick is an infinite being and the chase is endless? What sacrifice is ever enough? Sometimes I think maybe if I just knew a little bit more anatomy I would be a better physiotherapist. Or if I just could make some money I would be a more loving husband. And so on until what I’m really hoping for is to be a better person. With each sacrifice, I secretly hope it’s the final one.

A popular saying is that ‘there is no rest for the weary’. Restlessness doesn’t go away no matter how much we sacrifice ourselves to appease our conscience because they’re never good enough. We often think that rest comes at the completion of our work the way God rested on the 7th day of creation from his. But true eternal rest is a gift of God. What blew my mind as I listened to Keller’s sermon was that entering God’s rest meant putting down every pretense in our life, to recognize our shame and nakedness before his piercing Word and to come weary to Jesus who would take our burdens. I only wish that entering that resting was as easy as I heard it preached. I guess that’s why it’s a gift. It’s something to ask for not earn.

Ashamed to be Human?

During one’s life there are many memorable moments. Some moments bring smiles to your face as you ride the subway in an otherwise dull day, leaving others wondering why you look so stupid. Others droop your eyes as they fill with longing. Still others force your body to inwardly recoil as you perform the dreaded ‘cringe’. Moments like these have always fascinated me. It seems like they just blow about like winds over the sea, turning you one way and the next and surprising you when you least expect it. My mind just can’t help recollecting things. And life just always wants to be understood backwards. And yet I try desperately to live it forwards, striving for what I still don’t know and what I hope to be. But there is a type of moment that pesters me most over and over again until I give in to it. They’re moments of shame.

Besides the existential feeling of guilt, the presence of shame haunted me most in my childhood. It would have been better to die than to raise my hand and ask to go to the bathroom. The severe leakage that occurred afterwards will always be associated with the first day of school and the struggle of skipping kindergarten. Looking back, trading a possibility to interrupt class for the reality of a wet patch on gray pants was not a good deal. They had to call my mom, something infinitely worse than being the first guy to leave class. I wish that would have been the last instance of shame. But if death is the last humiliation then I’ve still got ways to go.

The shame of wetting your pants grew up. Nowadays I’m much more likely to be ashamed of how little I seem to have accomplished in life or how different I live in comparison to the rest of society. God knows we’re shameful creatures! We reek of it. And we long to expunge it from our pores once and for all. Those who quell in their boots at the prospect of public speaking understand what it’s like to be in the presence of people to be judged. The shame we bear is a naked one, a constant awareness that we fall short of who we’re meant to be. And to learn as a Christian that man is made in the image of the infinite God! Contrary to the media, it makes ‘falling short of God’s glory’ nothing less than a terrifying statement.

So as I read these words in the book of Hebrews, I had to pause over them as I pondered what they really meant.

‘For it was fitting that he, for whom and by whom all things exist, in bringing many sons to glory should make the founder of their salvation perfect through suffering. For he who sanctifies and those who are sanctified all have one source. That is why he is not ashamed to call them brothers, saying, “I will tell of your name to my brothers; in the midst of the congregation I will sing your praise.” And again, “I will put my trust in him.” And again, “Behold, I and the children God has given me.” Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery.’ (Heb. 2.10-15)

Shame, as I learned from Ravi Zacharias, does not necessarily come from something you’ve done. But it is who you are seen to be. It sticks to you like the label ‘leper’ or more contemporarily ‘bigot’. Hebrews shows us that Jesus took on the shame of being human and became its ideal. He had to be perfected being obedient to God while bearing the shame of suffering. His desire was for us to share his honor by sharing our disgrace. But we have to share his disgrace to have his honor. This is how it works in a family. If we’re to be made the same as Jesus the true son of God, we’ve got to share in flesh and blood and yes, even his honor and shame.

Avoiding the shame of living and dying like him ironically gives us esteem in the world’s eyes for a fickle time. But embracing such a life gives us the honor of God’s approval for eternity. Without such faithful suffering, he could never to bear our shame of finitude and sin and bring us to glory. Being made like him and he like us makes us have one source and unites us with God. Overcoming such suffering means sharing in the victory that he has achieved and the future reality of being liberated from death.

So it’s okay to be weak and frail, and reproached and scorned. It’s okay to be afflicted and persecuted and betrayed. It’s okay to suffer. It’s okay to be human. Because Jesus was human and unashamed. At the end of the day all of it is working to make us perfect and mature and strong so that Jesus himself would not be ashamed to call us brothers nor God to call us his sons. I know which deal I would rather take.