The following reflection was adapted from a blog I wrote in 2017. The ideas are the same but sometimes expressed differently or with new understanding. The original, written during my early years of healing, was the first piece of my writing that I shared in a public forum other than my website. The reaction from survivors was overwhelmingly positive, but the reactions of the leaders of the religious-based organization for creatives were not. The denied membership application stated that I did not understand their organization’s purpose. They were probably right, but what I did understand was my growing desire to help others heal.
Why did Jesus die?
First of all, he died because religious leaders hated him for speaking the truth that upset their carefully constructed boxes and disturbed their power base. There are thousands of books on the subject of why Jesus died, but plain and simple, he died because he refused to stop healing people and keep quiet about religious oppression. He knew what was going to happen because he understood how entrenched religion had become and the power it wielded over those it oppressed. Religion had lost its purpose, and the leaders hated him for pointing it out.
It is revealing that the religious leaders pushed for the most shameful means of death. It is what oppressors do—they shame. It is their way of unloading their own guilt on their victims. They tried to convince Jesus that he was the one who was wrong and that they were righteous. They ridiculed Jesus for what he believed about himself and shamed him in front of the crowds. They tried to convince him and everyone else that he was nothing and they were everything. It is what oppressors do—they shame.
Oddly enough, unlike most humans, Jesus never internalized their guilt. He never accepted the role of victim. Victims often struggle to separate themselves from the guilt of their oppressors. They take on the sins of others as indicators of their inherent lack of worth. Oppressors make the victims feel responsible for the oppression. The victim ends up saying, “This is happening to me because of who I am. I am the unworthy one. I am responsible.” This is shame—the belief that we are worthless.
Many confuse guilt and shame—they are not the same. Shame tells us we are not worthy; guilt tells us what we did was unacceptable. They are two different things. Shame occurs when we internalize what others do or say to us and take it as the truth about ourselves. Guilt is the result of our actions—we can ask for forgiveness and move on. Shame makes us apologize for our very existence and being. There is no moving on from that.
Jesus, who was without sin, had no guilt—even though others told him what he was doing made him guilty. All that is called sin is not sin. His conscience was clear on the day he died on the cross. He had done nothing wrong. Jesus was secure in who he was and did not internalize the shame they attempted to thrust upon him. He clearly understood who was at fault in the situation. He never asked for forgiveness for himself, only for others. Jesus forgave out of a clear conscience, and so should everyone else who has been a victim of another’s sin.
Asking to be forgiven for internalized shame looks entirely different. “Forgive me for being an awful, wretched person.” I hear this sense of shame in hymns, preaching, and testimonies. It is asking forgiveness for being who we are, not what we did. Without confusing shame and guilt, asking forgiveness for those things that are our responsibility is a simple thing. “I am sorry I did that. Forgive me. I will do my best to not do that again.”
Asking for forgiveness for who we are never gives us peace because we walk away believing something about ourselves that God doesn’t believe. Shame requires healing, not forgiveness. We can be forgiven for wrongdoings, but it is necessary to be healed from the shame inflicted by the harm caused by others. Mixing up the two and living in condemnation of who we erroneously believe ourselves to be will never bring peace and joy during this season.
Healing is a difficult process, but it allows us to figure out what truly needs forgiveness. Jesus himself alluded to the difficulty of healing the body when saying that it was much easier to forgive sin than heal the body (Matthew 9). What we believe about ourselves as a result of trauma is in every fiber of our being. Trauma is held in our bodies and requires healing, not forgiveness.
The Easter message for me when I wrote this seven years ago—and still today—is that Jesus may have died because powerful religious leaders hated his message, but for those who suffer the message was filled with hope and healing because it placed the guilt on the oppressor not the oppressed.
If you have suffered at the hands of other humans, healing is what Jesus desires. Jesus lived to heal, he died to heal, and he rose to heal. There is so much more to healing than forgiveness of sin.
The Greek words we often translate as salvation in the Bible are sózó and sótéria. These are the same words we commonly translate as healing. So, when we read that Jesus healed someone and then we read He ‘saved’ someone, it’s the same Greek word. Salvation is healing. Rev. Benjamin Cremer as quoted in Trauma in the Pews
This Easter, I am grateful for trauma-based therapists who are doing the work of Jesus by alleviating the suffering of the oppressed. Healing from the impact of trauma enables us to access the abundant life Jesus intended. It truly brought me out of a dark tomb of shame. When I consider the message of Easter as bringing healing and new life after deep suffering, it makes all the difference. Jesus came to heal the brokenhearted, and the resurrection is proof that oppressors do not get to have the final word. It tells us that hope for healing will neither be killed nor silenced.