Shame – Daniel Hochhalter

This week, I jumped into something I hadn’t done in well over a decade. For the first time since my 2008 post-graduate debacle in England, I am “back in the classroom,” so to speak.

Not as a teacher, but as a student.

It’s an online course with Grand Canyon University. I am hoping to fulfill the final requirement for professional certification.

It’s been only three days, and I am surprised at the range of emotions I have been experiencing.

On one hand, it felt great to be a student again. I have always loved the learning environment. As a student, I have been out of the loop far too long.

On the other hand, I felt overwhelmed and intimidated. I honestly couldn’t believe how apprehensive I was.

Feelings I haven’t felt in years flooded over me: loss, rejection, humiliation. Feelings of 15 years ago burst forth.

I remember so vividly walking down the path at the university in Britain after my post-graduate thesis was rejected. I was numb. It was all I could do to simply put one foot in front of the other as I thought about the call I would soon make home, telling my wife that all that money, time, and energy is gone. It’s over.

I was certain that I would never be a student again.

Yet here I am, stumbling through the readings, work, and online discussions, trying to push away all my feelings of inadequacy.

“I am not qualified,” I’ve heard myself say. “This is outside of my wheelhouse. I am too old. My career takes a lot out of me, can I survive this? Do I have the energy? Will I flame out? Will I embarrass myself again?

Feelings I experienced so long ago.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to risk feeling them again.

However, even though my doubts, quitting is not an option. I almost get the feeling that God wants me to go forward.

I am reminded of words the Apostle Paul wrote long ago. These are words that helped me stumble and crawl through the darkest years following 2008:

“But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body.” (1 Corinthians 4:7-10)

It took me almost two decades to jump back on the horse and return to school even if briefly.

I lived in the safety away from being a student for so long. Now I am back, confronting my greatest humiliation. However, it is not to gain glory for myself, but to give total and complete glory to him.

When commenting on Paul’s words to the Corinthians, Chuck Swindoll said, “In order for God to release his sweet perfume over the world, he must first break the jar that holds it.”

There but for grace of God go I.

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There’s a new mantra appearing across social media, admonishing Christ-followers to “love like Jesus.” But something’s been bothering me about the way this phrase is used, and I’ve been trying to figure it out. I think I’ve finally put my finger on it.

Here’s what it is: I agree 100% that we should love like Jesus. Period. End of story. Triple exclamation point. But people are saying “love like Jesus” not to encourage one another toward true godliness, but to shame anyone who disagrees with them. They say it about everything from abortion to LGBT issues to the politics of poverty. And when they say it, they seem to mean, “Agree with my position on this issue, because I am sure Jesus would share it.” Therefore, if I disagree with their position, the implication is that I do not “love like Jesus” on that issue. So those who agree with them are “loving like Jesus” and those who don’t are just “haters” – leaving no room for dialog or dissent.

The problem is, we don’t always know what Jesus’s response to an issue would be. Or we see only one side of it.

When Jesus met the Samaritan woman at the well (John 4:1-26), he accepted her, reached out to her, and loved her. So some say we should “love like Jesus” by offering acceptance, including total agreement with everything people do.

But Jesus also called out the woman’s sin, saying: “The fact is, you have had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband. What you have just said is quite true” (John 4:18). Jesus accepted her, but he challenged her about what she was doing.

Jesus is Jesus, and he loves people without ignoring the reality of sin. He always strikes the perfect balance between accepting, judging, loving, admonishing, and encouraging. And I do not. Try as I might, I struggle to find that balance.

But recently I experienced an example of the correct usage of “love like Jesus.” It happened while I was walking the dogs.

Now, it’s no secret that I feel constricted living in a big city. The car horns, the sirens, the sounds of violence and rage – it all seems so brutal to me. I long for wide open spaces, where people aren’t so tense. Whenever I get out of town, I can feel my pulse rate slow, my body decompress.

So when I hear people shouting and cursing at each other, as they so often do here in the city, it really gets to me. And that’s what happened the other evening. As my wife and I walked our three dachshunds around the neighborhood, we passed a yard with two other small dogs who started barking like crazy. We hurried by before ours could join in. But as we passed, a neighbor yelled from across the street at those other dogs, “Shut the f__ up!”

We were stunned at the outburst. We said nothing and kept walking even faster. But the incident soured my mood. I scrolled through my mental rolodex of snarky, sarcastic insults I could shoot back at the disgruntled neighbor. “It’s only 5 p.m.,” I thought to myself, “not the middle of the night or something. Dogs bark – that’s what they do. It’s no big deal. There are far bigger issues in the world. Why is everyone so explosive all the time? Why can’t they just overlook the small things?”

My wife noticed my silence and asked, “Why so quiet?” So I explained how I felt.

She paused a moment and then said, “Maybe we could see it from his point of view. Maybe it happens a lot—the neighbor’s dogs barking every time someone walks by. How could we love him the way Jesus does?”

My heart knew she was right. Loving as Jesus loves is one of the most important aspects of the Christian life. But my wife’s question did not shame me or make me feel guilty about my anger toward that man; instead, it simply redirected my perspective. I couldn’t stop him from shouting curses, but I could choose to understand the feelings and frustrations behind his rude behavior. My wife’s question helped me determine, despite my fleshly resistance, what it means to love others, one angry neighbor at a time. As Christ-followers, this is how we should encourage one another to “love like Jesus.”

The call to “love like Jesus” should never be used as a weapon to shame others into agreeing with me, or following my agenda. Except in a sermon or in a loving small group, the reminder to “love like Jesus” should be delivered one-on-one – and always with grace, not shame, in the context of discipleship.

Category: Shame

Dropping my toe back into academia

Love or shame: What’s behind your use of the phrase “love like Jesus”?