“The eye cannot say to the hand, ‘I have no need of you,’ nor again the head to the feet, ‘” have no need of you.’ On the contrary, the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and on those parts of the body we think less honorable we bestow the greater honor. If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together.” 1 Cor 12:21-23,26
A couple years ago, I had the opportunity to celebrate a close friend turning 30. His wife gathered friends and family together from all over the country to eat BBQ, play cornhole, and celebrate. The weather was perfect. It was one of those nights where all the doors were open, the air conditioning was off, and people moved seamlessly inside and outside of the house. Their house was beautiful, and everything was in abundance: food, friends, conversation, and laughter. It was the perfect birthday celebration.
After cake, the crowd gathered in the dining room for a few toasts. The room was so full that guests were spilling over into the kitchen and living room. My friend’s father began with a story that described two of his favorite attributes of his son: his strong will and his consistency. Another friend told of his faithfulness, and then, his college best friend, who had flown across the country for the event, began sharing the many aspects that made their friendship so sweet. As the room stared at the honoree with abundant smiles, he blushed listening to such genuine affirmation of his 30 years of life.
This was one of those moments that we live for, you know, those moments when you look around and think, “I matter and I belong; life can’t get any better than this!” And at that very moment, hearing how loved and cared for he was, my friend casually leaned back on the dining table. Suddenly, the table came crashing down with a loud THUD. Glass broke, plates landed cake side down on the hardwood floor, and the beautiful heirloom table with split legs was totally collapsed on the ground. A pregnant woman scurried out of the way ensuring that she and her baby were safe. The birthday boy, horrified, fell fast into shame. He ruined the moment.
From my experience in life, this feels about right. I could list off stories of ruining the moment time and time again. Doing the wrong thing when I so desperately want to do the right thing is a very common occurrence in my life, and most of the time I blame myself, “There must be something wrong with me.” It seems like we live life in a world of black or white thinking, where there is a right box and a wrong box, a good box and a bad box. We are right when people like us, celebrate us, support us, and gather around us. We are wrong when we break the table, ruin the moment, act clumsily, and make a huge mess. Toxic Shame, a feeling that says everything about me is wrong, drives this black or white thinking, and toxic shame will always strip me of those moments of delight, joy, and celebration like we were having that night as we gathered in the dining room. Toxic shame says we can’t matter and belong AND also make mistakes.
Many of my clients come to me with the exhaustion and pain of living in a world of black or white thinking and right or wrong boxes, wanting, maybe for the first time, something different, something like a human box. A box that says: “You are okay when you are right, and you are okay when you are wrong.” A box that says: “We all break tables; we all need support; we all ruin moments.” I think that is what Paul is talking about in 1 Corinthians 12, where he says the body of Christ is one where we just get to be ourselves, the foot can be a foot, and the eye can be an eye. We do not have to be who everyone else is or wants us to be. I’m okay being me. People who allow a human box for themselves live life to the fullest. When I can be me, human and all, I realize I am not alone.
Looking back, this was one of the best birthday parties I have attended. After the crash, the crowd moved out to the back deck, laughing and comforting my friend the entire way. The toast that was interrupted was finished with continued praise and affirmation, and more toasts followed, often starting with, “Even though you broke the table…” The toasts affirmed that while we all make mistakes, we can still be worthy of love and celebration. That is the human box, a box where we get to be who God made us to be: clumsy, messy, and beautiful.
That night, we realized we did not have to be perfect or put together. We did not need to have the perfect house or the most beautifully set table to celebrate, delight in, and rejoice over our human friend. We needed the reminder that we are okay when we were right, and we are okay when we were wrong. My friend gave us an experience of what it means to be human, and we left the party, even if it was just for the night, with the courage to be human too.