Some friends of ours had their house broken into a few weeks ago. Among the items stolen were their flat-screen TV, their laptop, their DVD player, monitors, and video equipment. They experienced the typical feelings people experience when things like this happen--dismay, fear, sadness, anger, helplessness.

But the loss of their camera in the robbery evoked intensely deeper emotions.

On that camera were family photos. Pictures of their two-year-old's birthday party. The visual announcement that they were expecting a new baby. Photos of a grandfather who may not be with them much longer. Images that cannot be replaced. 

Stealing the camera made the perpetrators' violation infinitely more personal. It left our friends with a sick pain in the the pit of their stomachs; a shadowy uneasiness. Having their house broken into and their TV stolen made them feel defeated. Having their camera stolen made them feel defiled. It crossed a deeply personal boundary.

This scenario illustrates the difference between being abused and being sexually abused.

A past that includes verbal or physical abuse often evokes feelings of dismay, fear, sadness, anger, and helplessness. Such abuse is a clear violation. It is grossly unfair. Reprehensible. But, without minimizing the effects of verbal or physical abuse, experiencing sexual abuse is different.

Sexual abuse is personal. Those who have been abused sexually are left feeling desecrated, dishonored. Sexual abuse victims are robbed of treasures that cannot be replaced: value, dignity, innocence.

Perhaps the one thing that differentiates victims of sexual abuse from those who have been abused verbally or physically is a pervading, sometimes debilitating sense of shame. Sexual abuse should result in shame. But shame felt by the perpetrator. Yet all too often it is the victim who takes on shame. Shame that, sometimes decades after the abuse was inflicted, continues to break and enter their soul and steal their worth, security, and peace.

Victims of sexual abuse, particularly if the abuse occurred when they were children, often take on blame for what happened. They tell themselves that the abuse was their fault; that they somehow deserved it, or perhaps even invited it. And shame begins to cast its murky shadow over their lives.

​Shame is dirty. It leaves a mark on people. But it's a mark that is often not visible to others. It is a smudge on a person's soul. Those who bear it feel filthy. And for the victim it is often a grossly undeserved consequence of having been sexually abused.

But there is good news. Help is available.

It is critical for those who have experienced sexual abuse to find a good therapist who will help them identify and process feelings they may have repressed for years. It is also important that those who have been abused learn how to set healthy boundaries in their lives--to say yes to people who will help them and no to relationships that will harm them.

But the key to finding lasting freedom from the horrific effects of sexual abuse is to conquer shame.

It is not God's intent for His children to live lives of pain, misery, and regret--the inevitable result of living in the shadow of shame. So He has set out to restore us. To make us new. To take what is wrong and make it right. To fix what is broken and make it whole again. It's what He does.  

We silence the voice of  shame when we not only hear but believe God's words of truth about us:

• You are good.
• You are prized.
• I delight in you.
• You matter deeply.
• You have incredible worth.

The more attuned we are to His tender voice, the more we will experience the healing we long for. 

I grew up with an alcoholic dad. And since denial and alcoholism go hand in hand, whenever my dad was confronted on his behavior he would shift the blame to others. My mere presence in the home made me a convenient target.

I was accused of be ungrateful. Unappreciative. Lazy. Irresponsible. I remember once being yelled at for not mowing the lawn like I had been told. I had mowed it that morning. My dad was just too drunk to notice. I knew the verbal attack was unwarranted. But I was only nine years old. He was an adult. So I accepted full blame.

Since children don't have the ability to reason like grownups, I concluded that it was my fault that my dad was an alcoholic. Dad kept getting drunk because I was bad. I came to believe that if I simply behaved better and never gave my dad anything to criticize he wouldn’t drink anymore.

And so it began. The insatiable need to be perfect. The self-imposed demand to perform flawlessly so that I could earn the approval of others. Relentlessly seeking a goal that could never be attained. And every day feeling like a failure.

There is no greater form of self-abuse than perfectionism.

But the guilt and shame that gnawed at my soul as I tried desperately to live up to the expectations of an alcoholic father were nothing like the guilt and shame I experienced trying to live up to the expectations of an infallible Heavenly Father.

Well into my adult life, and long after my dad was delivered from alcoholism and our relationship was restored, I was still living in fear. I was afraid to make a mistake; afraid of rejection; afraid I would never be deemed worthy of love; afraid to get too close to another father I couldn't please.

But one day, as I was searching through the Bible for nuggets of truth that would calm my fears, I came across five words in the book of First John that I was familiar with, but honestly hadn't paid much attention to. Five words that God clearly meant for me at that juncture of my life. Five words that give hope and healing to wounded souls who are fearful that they are too flawed to ever be loved: Perfect love drives out fear.  

The Bible says that God is perfect in all of  His ways. He is a perfect Father. And He loves His children with a perfect love.

Perfect love is love without condition. Perfect love has no strings attached. Perfect love looks beyond people's imperfection and sees their need. Perfect love is the kind of love we read about in 1 Corinthians 13: Love that is patient, love that is kind, love that does not envy, love that does not boast, love that is not proud, love that does not dishonor others, love that is not self-seeking, love that is not easily angered, love that keeps no record of wrongs. 

The wonderful, freeing truth I have discovered is that there is no room for fear in a heart that is filled with the Heavenly Father's perfect love. Because my Heavenly Father's love is perfect I don't have to be. 

There is a great deal of concern among Christians that the younger generation is seemingly disinterested in today’s church. There are a number of theories as to why.

It is widely believed that teens and twenty-somethings have turned away from the church for one or more of the following reasons:

• They find it boring.
• They can’t relate to the preaching.
• They don’t like the music.
• They have short attention spans.
• They feel that they don’t fit in.

While all these things may contribute to the younger generation’s aversion to the church, I believe there is more to it than a desire for relevance, acceptance, and an eight-piece double bass drum set.
​
According to a study I read recently, do you know what it is that the younger generation most wants to see in today’s church? Adults who are real.

You see, young people can spot a fake a mile away. And what they desire most in God's church are adults who are the real deal, who are the same outside of church than they are inside, who are honest about their problems and how they are affected by them.

Especially in today’s world, with the disintegration of the family, young people need a safe haven where they can be themselves; where they can share struggles, ask questions, and admit fears. But for many people—young and old alike—the church is the least safe place to be vulnerable.

In my ministry, I have been blessed to work with a number of recovering addicts, many of whom grew up in the church. Their mantra is the same. They have found more grace, love, and acceptance in 12-step groups than they did in God’s church. 

Some time ago, I came across a guy I had gone to high school with. He was raised in a church-going family, but took a left turn when he entered his teen years. Last I had heard he wasn’t exactly walking close to the Lord. Imagine my surprise when our paths crossed years later and I heard him openly and excitedly sharing his newly-ignited faith. I couldn’t help but acknowledge the difference I saw in him and ask, “What church did you get plugged into?”

I was totally unprepared for his response. He laughed and said, “I didn’t find Christ in the church. I found Him in A.A.!”

As a defender of God’s church, I was initially offended by his response. But after he explained, I became challenged by it.

He viewed A.A. as a safe place, where everyone is on a level playing field; a place where sinners can openly acknowledge their shortcomings without fear of being judged; a place where pretending and pride are not tolerated, where support and encouragement flows freely.

I immediately realized that is not a description of today’s church.

I recognize that there are many congregations out there who are getting it right. If you belong to such a church community, you are blessed. But if your church is not worthy of the adjectives loving, forgiving, grace-filled, and accepting, I pray that change would begin with you.    
 
It’s my hunch that God’s original design for the church was that it more resemble an A.A. meeting than what it has become today. 

Ever feel like no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, you just don't measure up?

This is a common trait of those who grew up in highly dysfunctional environments--particularly those with alcoholic or ultra-rigid parents. Mothers and fathers who are chemically addicted and/or highly critical often produce children who try desperately to earn approval--from their parents, teachers, peers, coaches, or just about anyone who gives them attention.

It is not a characteristic they simply outgrow.

Many attention-starved kids grow up to become attention-starved adults. They buy into the lie that their self-worth is dependent on two things: what they do and what people say about what they do.

And they always seem to come up short.

They go through life with a pervading sense that no matter how well they perform they will never be good enough; that they will always be found lacking; that they will never meet the expectations of others.

I am one of those people. At least I was.

In my seemingly never-ending quest for acceptance I stumbled upon a phenomenon called "unconditional love." Having been a regular attender of Sunday School, I had learned at a very early age that God loves His children unconditionally. I knew about unconditional love. But, due to some pretty faulty thinking, I had never experienced it.

First of all, I grew up believing that all love had conditions. There were always strings attached. I couldn't be loved until the expectations of others were met. Love had to be earned.

Secondly, I had developed some defective beliefs about God. I viewed my Heavenly Father through the lens of my alcoholic dad. As a result, I believed that God was just another father I couldn't please; another father who looked at me and shook His head in disappointment, another father who withheld His love from me until I got it right.

Once I came to understand the truth about my Heavenly Father and His love for me everything changed. I experienced unrestricted, unqualified, unquestionable approval for the first time in my life. I finally and fully grasped the fact that my Heavenly Father’s love for me carries no expectations. That there are no strings attached. That His love cannot possibly be earned.

I remember vividly the thrill of cradling my first grandchild after he was born. And as I held him close and looked at that sweet face I found myself overflowing with love for him. I realized there was nothing I wouldn’t do for him. And what exactly had he done to earn that kind of love? Absolutely nothing. At just a few weeks old pretty much all he did was eat, sleep, and poop. I loved him not because of anything he had done. I loved and continue to love him because of who he is: he’s my grandson.

That is a picture of how our Heavenly Father loves us. He loves us freely and fully with no strings attached. He loves us even when we smell and need to be changed. He loves us so much there is nothing He wouldn’t do for us. He loves us not because of what we've done, He loves us because of who we are: we're His kids.

I no longer live seeking to measure up in the eyes of others. I have been deemed good enough by a Father who is fully pleased with me just as I am.