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I was recently reminded of a conversation I had over ten years ago with my friend Josh Graves when I visited his church in Nashville. We were talking about my book The Slavery of Death. Josh asked me this question: “What’s the one thing you want people to know deep in their bones about death and the Christian faith?”
This was my response:
If I had one thing to say to that demographic I’d start with Henri Nouwen’s question:
“Who am I when nobody pays attention, says thanks, or recognizes my work?”
The answer most of us would give, shaped as we are by the culture, is this: you’re a nobody. If you’re not someone who “stands out” you’re a nobody. Brene Brown calls this the “shame-based fear of being ordinary.” Nobody wants to be ordinary. We want to be extraordinary.
And why is that? Because of existential anxiety. We want our lives to matter, to be noteworthy and significant in the face of death. We don’t want to fade away, we want to leave a dent in the universe. So we grasp at anything that makes us stand out from the crowd, that allows us to make and leave a mark. And so we get caught up in the neurotic social comparison game–online, at work, and in our social relationships. The main symptom of this “shame-based fear of being ordinary” is envy and jealousy fused with a feeling of inferiority and inadequacy.
The trouble with this, and here is the pastoral turn, is that everywhere we see Jesus asking us to “take the last place.” To be a servant. To be the littlest, least, and last. But that is impossible if our egos are being driven by a neurotic and shamed-based anxiety. Because the reality of Good Friday is that if you become like Jesus–if you carry his cross–nobody will pay attention, no one will say thank you, no one will recognize your work. That’s crucifixion. Of the ego, of the self, of our aspirations to be “a somebody.”
These reflections deepen the point I've been making about humility and identity. The way of Jesus, it's cruciform nature, requires a secure and grounded identity. For if you lack this security you'll never be able to endure the shame-based fear of being ordinary when you are asked to "take on the form of a servant" as Jesus did. So it's not just humility that's at stake here, it is our capacity to sacrificially love as Jesus loved. Put simply, the way of Jesus demands shame-resiliency, and shame-resiliency flows out of a stable and grounded identity.
How, then, to find grounding and stability for your identity? Both The Slavery of Death and The Shape of Joy share the same answer. The two books are linked. The Slavery of Death was my first discussion of what David Kelsey calls an "eccentric identity," and The Shape of Joy traces the research in positive psychology to make that same point, what I call "the outward turn." The theological approach in The Slavery of Death converges upon the psychological treatment in The Shape of Joy.
