The Divine Gift of Enduring Shame

When I was growing up, if you said “trigger” everyone thought about guns or Roy Roger’s horse… maybe shooting guns while riding Roy Roger’s horse.

Today if you say “trigger” someone is worried that something they’ve said or done has set off a negative chain reaction in someone else’s psyche. This experience is deemed so emotionally violent as to render triggering a hate crime. “YOU did this to them!!!”

The problem is that you never can tell what it might be… toothpaste that whitens teeth, saying the word postman, or calling an obvious male “he.” It’s a “problematic” world where adding 2 + 2 and getting 4 makes you a bigot.

Triggering is real in the sense that sense stimuli can make joyous or painful moments from the past abruptly present for the triggered. But if you’re triggered, it’s you’re issue not everyone else’s issue. Deal with it.

I often have to hold back a smile when I hear the word “dime” or see a public payphone because I get a memory rush from a particularly witty exchange with someone I once loved.

I also tend to have a small prick of resurfaced shame when I use a soda machine, not because soda is bad for me, but because I once tarnished the reputation of Christ by getting caught by my atheist coach with my arm inside one, popping out drinks for my friends. I wasn’t stealing. I was simply reaping my reward for being cool and helpful to my cheap associates. He said, “Mr. Sargent, aren’t you a Christian? Are Christians stealing now?” Of course, at that moment, it became suddenly obvious that I was stealing.

In our church, we have a weekly short “word of encouragement.” I often bill mine as “My humiliation for your edification.” I draw upon moments for which I feel shame when triggered… (lawn darts,[1] guffaws,[2] toucans,[3] hand-held telescopes[4]) not a soul implosion, but little waves reminding me what I am without Jesus, the insufficiency of heart-spun wisdom, the need for vigilance against carelessness and selfishness.

In John 21, after Jesus’ resurrection, Peter and the others go back out onto Galilee to fish. Jesus shows up, tells them to switch sides with the net, grants a miracle catch, and has breakfast waiting for them when they hurry to shore.

At one point, Jesus pulls Peter aside. He says in verses 15-17, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?”[5] He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” He said to him, “Feed my lambs.” He said to him a second time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” He said to him, “Tend my sheep.” He said to him the third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter was grieved because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” and he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep.”

Now it is common to note in this exchange that the words translated “love” keep shifting. In the first ask, Jesus uses Agapao, Peter Phileo. In the second ask, Jesus uses agapao, Peter Phileo. The third time, however, Jesus uses Phileo, and Peter, affected deeply by the third exchange, uses Phileo again.

Many claim that Jesus was asking Peter for an elevated God LOVE… “agape,” but that Peter couldn’t match it. Therefore, Peter is ashamed when Jesus lowers his expectation by only asking for Phileo.

The problem is that the presentation of “agape” as a special kind of God-love is incorrect.  “Agape” is the generic word for love, while “phileo” is more specifically connected to friendship and family. Peter may, as Peter is wont to do, actually be upping the ante on Jesus. That said, John rarely uses the one without the other nearby as understudy. John also uses “agape” to speak of men who love darkness,[6] and who love the praises of men.[7]

Peter’s humbled and grieved third replay is more about the number than the vocabulary. Peter has one of these triggering moments, strong for its freshness, as Jesus subtly addresses Peter’s most shameful moment in life thus far. Peter denied even knowing Jesus three times mere hours after he boasted that he would lay down his life for Jesus. Jesus warned him that night that before the rooster crowed, Peter would deny Him three times. He was aghast at the very idea, but deny Him Peter did, cowering in fear from a bunch of midnight-fire ne’er-do-wells. But as soon as the rooster crowed, Peter came to himself, a mirror turned on his own soul, and he saw himself for what he was in himself. He went away and wept bitterly. On that beach, Jesus addresses the elephant in the room, restores him, and commissions him anew.

Peter launches the Church on the day of Pentecost, seeing multiplied thousands saved. He goes on to perform many miracles, even raising the dead. He stands boldly against apostate Jewish leaders,[8] defies Rome’s attempt to silence the Gospel, and calls death and curse down from heaven against those who would exploit the Church to lift themselves up before man. He inaugurates the Gentiles into the fold and plants churches across the Empire. He dies boldly for Jesus refusing as an unworthy servant to imitate Jesus’ crucifixion in his own; he asks that it be turned upside down.

No doubt, like that day on the beach, Peter was triggered every time a rooster crowed. This shame was a gift to him, just like Paul’s “thorn in the flesh” was a gift to him, just like my own are a gift to me. It was a vital anchor to humility. No matter how great Peter’s work in Jesus…  he always remembered what he is without Jesus… because he lived in an agrarian society and roosters crowed a lot.

~Andrew D. Sargent, PhD

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[1] Almost killed my two year old cousin being careless at a party… the plastic feather nicked his cheek. Yes, that close.

[2] Watched a girl’s soul die a little bit when, mid-joy in her own celebratory moment, she saw me guffawing at her from a distance. My stomach hurts even now just typing this as I call the incident to mind.

[3] I broke my sister’s decoration, a beautiful glass toucan gloriously red. I was careless with it and broke off the legs. She was broken hearted. So I bought super glue to fix it. It was almost perfect… until the idea of super-clue caught my imagination…. Stronger than the original bond, aye. I tapped it on the table a little harder time after time amazed that it was indeed strong… stronger than the original it proved when I broke it again in a whole new place. This time it was beyond repair.

[4] It’s not what you think. I once bought one as a special gift for my little brother at Christmas (he loved it) and that same day, raging at his mockery of me, I pulled it from his hands and smashed it on the ground. In that moment, I felt murder in my heart. I knew it easily could have been him that I smashed to pieces.

[5] I will leave the comparative alone in this article, “who or what are the “more than these” but it is a wonderful and fun discussion point for which there is no obvious answer, just suggestions.

[6] John 3:19. (See also: Luke 11:43, 16:13; 2 Timothy 4:10: 2 Peter 2:15; 1 John 2:15 (second one).

[7] John 12:43

[8] They were not all apostate as the Gospels make clear.