Understanding shame and learning to respond wisely …

On October 5, 2007, Olympic champion Marion Jones stood outside a federal courthouse in White Plains, New York, and made a public confession that brought an extraordinary athletic career to an end. Four years earlier, she had won three gold and two bronze medals at the Sydney Olympics. She had repeatedly denied using performance-enhancing drugs, but that morning she admitted that she had lied to federal investigators and pleaded guilty to making false statements. Her mother stood behind her as she addressed reporters, fighting back tears.

Jones acknowledged that she had betrayed the trust of her family, supporters, and fellow athletes. She announced her retirement from track and field and asked those she had disappointed for forgiveness. She also returned her Olympic medals. During her subsequent interview with Oprah Winfrey, she spoke about the pain of remembering her family’s pride as she crossed the finish line in Sydney, knowing that those memories could never be separated from what she had done.

Her public confession included a revealing statement: “It is with a great amount of shame that I stand before you and tell you I have betrayed your trust.”

There is something important about that admission. Jones had reached a point where she could no longer maintain the image she had presented to the world. She had to confront the disgracefulness of her actions and acknowledge the damage caused by her dishonesty. The shame she expressed was connected to a genuine failure of character and integrity. That recognition was part of accepting responsibility for what she had done.

This brings us to an emotion that is frequently misunderstood, even in Christian circles. In my last blog post about guilt, I discussed how an uncomfortable emotion can serve a valuable purpose while also becoming harmful when misplaced or allowed to persist unnecessarily. Shame presents a similar challenge, although its influence can reach much deeper into how we perceive ourselves and our worth.

Shame is the painful feeling of being diminished, disgraced, or unworthy in our own eyes or in the eyes of others, usually arising from a perceived failure to meet moral, personal, or social standards.

The word “perceived” is important. Shame can arise from genuine wrongdoing, but it can also arise from unfair criticism, humiliation, circumstances beyond our control, or mistaken beliefs about ourselves.

When shame has a purpose
We have a capacity to recognize when our behavior has fallen beneath the standards we believe should govern our lives. When we betray someone’s trust, behave dishonorably, or treat another person cruelly, we may experience shame because we recognize something disgraceful in our conduct. That discomfort can be extremely valuable to us because it can challenge our attempts to excuse ourselves, motivate us to acknowledge what we have done, and move us toward making things right.

Psychologically, shame is closely associated with our awareness of how we are perceived by others and how we evaluate ourselves against important social and personal standards. It can alert us that our conduct has jeopardized relationships, violated values, or damaged our standing within a community. In appropriate circumstances, this awareness can encourage accountability and behavioral change.

However, shame can also become destructive when the judgment extends beyond the conduct that produced it. Someone who has behaved badly may begin believing that they are inherently bad, permanently unworthy, or incapable of becoming a better person. The resulting self-condemnation can make it harder to acknowledge wrongdoing constructively. Rather than addressing the problem, they may hide, withdraw, become defensive, or continually punish themselves through irrational thinking. The psychological distinction between shame and guilt is more complicated than a simple separation between feelings about ourselves and feelings about our behavior, but this difference is important in understanding how shame can affect us.

Consider what happens when shame arises from circumstances for which we bear no moral responsibility. A parent may feel disgraced by a child’s addiction despite having done nothing to cause it. Someone may feel ashamed after being betrayed by a spouse, losing a job through no fault of their own, or being publicly humiliated without justification. In each case, the person may experience a painful sense of disgrace despite having committed no disgraceful act.

In 2017, Anita Devlin described precisely such an experience on PBS NewsHour. Her seventeen-year-old son, Michael, had been prescribed painkillers following surgeries for lacrosse injuries. Anita collected the medication from the pharmacy and administered it as directed, never imagining that her son would develop an addiction.

As his condition deteriorated, Michael lost weight, began lying, and became increasingly unrecognizable to his family. Anita feared for him, but she also feared what others would think. She and her husband had built a “successful life,” and she imagined that disclosure would lead people to judge her as a failed mother. She kept Michael’s addiction secret even from close friends.

Then Michael went missing. His roommates telephoned Anita while a friend happened to be visiting. The friend overheard enough to realize something was seriously wrong. When Anita finally explained, her friend immediately began contacting treatment centers. The disclosure Anita had dreaded brought practical help rather than condemnation.

Michael eventually entered residential treatment, and the family received counseling. By the time Anita spoke publicly, he had been in recovery for nearly seven years.

Her experience exposes one of shame’s cruelest possibilities. Fear of judgment can persuade people to conceal the very circumstances in which they most need the support of others. Anita’s imagined disgrace had become so powerful that it interfered with her ability to seek help for her son.

That tendency can become self-reinforcing. We anticipate rejection, withdraw from others, and then interpret our isolation as proof that we are unworthy of their acceptance. We revisit painful memories, exaggerate what other people must think, and gradually treat our harshest assumptions as established facts. Sometimes the judgment originated with someone who deliberately humiliated us. Eventually, however, we may continue repeating it long after that person’s influence should have ended.

Shame also complicates genuine accountability. When people become overwhelmed by a sense of personal worthlessness, they may respond to criticism with anger, denial, or withdrawal. Their attention shifts away from the harm they caused and toward the humiliation they feel. The possibility of repairing a relationship can disappear beneath the effort to defend or punish themselves.

This is why the direction shame takes is so important. A painful recognition of wrongdoing may prompt honesty and change. An enduring conviction of personal disgrace can obstruct both.

The biblical challenge to shame
The Bible’s treatment of shame begins with an observation about human relationships. Before Adam and Eve disobeyed God, Genesis describes them as naked and unashamed. Their openness involved no fear of exposure. Genesis 2:25 states, “Now the man and his wife were both naked, but they felt no shame.”

That description provides an important contrast with what follows. Genesis 2 closes with a picture of innocence, openness, and freedom from shame. Genesis 3 then recounts how that condition changed after Adam and Eve disobeyed God. Their awareness of their nakedness became an immediate concern, prompting them to cover themselves and hide.

“At that moment their eyes were opened, and they suddenly felt shame at their nakedness. So they sewed fig leaves together to cover themselves. When the cool evening breezes were blowing, the man and his wife heard the Lord God walking about in the garden. So they hid from the Lord God among the trees. 9 Then the Lord God called to the man, ‘Where are you?’ He replied, ‘I heard you walking in the garden, so I hid. I was afraid because I was naked,'” Genesis 3:7-10.

Their response introduces a recurring feature of shame: the desire to conceal ourselves when we fear what being seen will mean. Their disobedience was real, but hiding could neither undo what they had done nor restore the relationship they had damaged.

The account also raises an important question about the judgments people make of themselves. Awareness of wrongdoing can be appropriate, but fear and concealment may prevent us from responding to that wrongdoing honestly.

In the world of the New Testament, shame also had a significance that modern Western readers can easily overlook. Public honor was a major source of social standing, as Jesus lived in what we refer to as a “honor/shame society.” Reputation influenced whose opinions mattered, whose authority was respected, and who was accepted within the community. Religious leaders could possess considerable prestige because of their position and apparent devotion to God.

Jesus confronted that system when public respectability concealed serious moral failure. His condemnation of the religious leaders in Matthew 23 is an example:

“What sorrow awaits you teachers of religious law and you Pharisees. Hypocrites! For you are like whitewashed tombs — beautiful on the outside but filled on the inside with dead people’s bones and all sorts of impurity. Outwardly you look like righteous people, but inwardly your hearts are filled with hypocrisy and lawlessness,” Matthew 23:27-28.

The accusation was especially severe because the leaders were responsible for guiding others. Their hypocrisy had consequences beyond their private lives. Jesus’ public confrontation exposed the danger of confusing an impressive religious appearance with genuine integrity.

Another incident makes the role of shame unmistakable. In Luke 13, Jesus healed a woman who had suffered for eighteen years, leaving her unable to stand upright. The synagogue leader objected because the healing occurred on the Sabbath, a day set apart for rest and worship.

“But the Lord replied, ‘You hypocrites! Each of you works on the Sabbath day! Don’t you untie your ox or your donkey from its stall on the Sabbath and lead it out for water? This dear woman, a daughter of Abraham, has been held in bondage by Satan for eighteen years. Isn’t it right that she be released, even on the Sabbath?’ This shamed his enemies, but all the people rejoiced at the wonderful things he did,” Luke 13:15-17.

The episode is significant because the woman and the religious authorities occupied very different positions in the community. She was physically vulnerable and had endured years of suffering. The synagogue leader possessed recognized religious authority. Jesus restored the woman’s dignity while publicly challenging the leader’s judgment.

It would be a mistake to conclude that Jesus considered shame inherently wrong or that He never deliberately exposed people to it. His confrontations could be severe, particularly when influential religious figures used their standing to justify conduct that was inconsistent with God’s purposes.

Yet it would be equally mistaken to use His example as permission to humiliate people. Jesus was concerned with truth, justice, and the treatment of others. He did not seek to preserve the prestige of powerful people at the expense of those who were suffering.

That distinction should matter deeply to Christian fellowships. Churches can become preoccupied with protecting their reputations while allowing people who need help to suffer in silence. They can also confuse public embarrassment with genuine repentance, demanding visible humiliation when what is needed is honest accountability and meaningful change.

The danger is especially serious when shame becomes a means of control. People may be pressured to accept blame for circumstances they did not cause, or made to feel that questioning an authority figure demonstrates some moral defect. The resulting silence can protect wrongdoing rather than correct it.

For individuals, the question is whether the shame they carry reflects a judgment they ought to accept. Sometimes it does. We may have betrayed a trust, acted dishonestly, or hurt someone who deserved better. Acknowledging that failure can be the beginning of change.

At other times, the judgment is mistaken. We may have accepted responsibility for another person’s choices, believed an unfair accusation, or allowed someone’s contempt to determine how we see ourselves. In such circumstances, continuing to feel ashamed serves no constructive purpose.

Even when our shame began with genuine wrongdoing, it need not become a permanent condition. Responsibility may require confession, restitution, changed behavior, and acceptance of consequences. None of these requires endless self-condemnation.

Scotty