What if I told you public embarrassment is good for you?
I know, crazy idea, right? So let me explain. Six short weeks after my sister died from lung cancer, I was diagnosed with cancer; rectal cancer. Unfortunately, rectal cancer doesn't come with a pretty pink bow or a fun run full of pink bras and tassels.
To say I was shocked is an understatement much like claiming Bill Gates scrapes by financially; I was fit and healthy and had just run a marathon. After radiation, chemo, and surgery to rework my God-given plumbing, I'm left with a digestive system as temperamental and unpredictable as a two-year-old.
The upside is I can now map 90% of the loos in Charlotte, NC; from the Ladies bathrooms at the children's hospital, to the port-a-loos along my jogging route (welcome, yet unsanitary relief when desperation calls mid-run).
If you know anything about me, you know I'm pathologically honest and as church leaders, we're naturally open and vulnerable about our fears and failures, so we quickly decided my diagnosis was no different. We would talk about it from the front and hey, these were our flock, how awkward could it be?
It turns out, VERY awkward and death-defyingly embarrassing.
I knew my husband Al was going to but I wasn't sure when or how until I heard him utter these
immortal words: "As some of you may know, Niki was recently diagnosed with rectal cancer...."
The pounding silence in the sanctuary was deafening and the rest of the sentence faded away, drowned out by the roar of my heart pumping blood into my cheeks at an unprecedented rate.
He'd said it. He said rectum. Out loud. In church. And not just anyone's rectum - MY rectum.
I could feel over two hundred pairs of eyes boring into the back of my head with a picture of my bottom flashing in front of everyone's mind.
MY RECTUM!!! IN CHURCH!!
Not normally prone to embarrassment, the fire burned my cheeks; all four of them.
Begging my chair to swallow me I debated whether to bolt for the door in a bid for freedom, or stand up, take a bow, and attempt to laugh it off.
Flight or fight at its best; run and hide or stay and fight with humor and grace?
What do you do when you're faced with the intense emotional discomfort we call embarrassment?
Studies show a third of us apologize immediately when something embarrassing happens, while 22% of us joke to cover it up, 21% pretend nothing happened, 18% suffer the blushing until it passes, and 6% of us leave the room.
But what is the best way to deal with that awkward moment that leaves us shame face and self-conscious? And how exactly was this mortifying experience in church good for me?
Given the fact I had a tumor the size of a small planet located where the sun doesn't shine, you won't be surprised to hear this was neither my first, nor last, deeply embarrassing moment. I struggled with every undignified, distressing and mortifying moment of embarrassment until I realized all these emotions were rooted in fear.
For me on that fateful Sunday and for most of us, fear is the driving force behind our embarrassment. I was afraid of what people would think.
I was frightened they'd reject me if they knew the real me was a hot mess with cancer in a most "unchristian" part of my anatomy. I was afraid they'd never look at me (or my bum) the same way ever again.
Yet most of all, I was afraid they'd feel pity, seeing me as weak and helpless, and this frightened me more than anything.
Everything in me wanted to hide.
I knew God's love could cast out my fear, but letting Him love me enough to squeeze it out of every last inch of me wasn't easy. It was a choice I had to make each time embarrassment waved the red flag of fear.
So what if people think horrible or undignified things about me? God loves me just as I am. So what if they reject me for being a hot mess? God will never leave me. So what if they think I'm weak? I am weak, and in my weakness He is strong.
And you know the funny thing? We all have elbows and knees and we all have rectums. Even Jesus had one!
Letting God love our brokenness fills us to where there's no room for fear, and where fear has no home its neighbor embarrassment can't move in.
Jesus thinks I'm the bee's knees and He thinks you are too. Can that be enough?
I'm a stubborn old goat and I'm not sure these truths would be seared on my heart if I hadn't had, and still have so many deeply embarrassing moments.
People often tell us it's not as bad as we think it is and before my cancer this platitude drove me bonkers. But you know what? They're right. It's not as bad as we think.
My fears were ungrounded.
They didn't think awful things about me; they loved me.
They didn't reject me; they scooped me up in their arms.
They didn't think I was weak, but when I was, they loved me all the more.
Fear traps us in shame and embarrassment, while God's love sets us free.
If you're prone to embarrassment or, like me, live with an embarrassing condition, can I invite you to dig into the fear that feeds that shame and self-consciousness?
What are you afraid of and what does God say about you and those fears? And most importantly, will you let God's love set you free?
Niki Hardy is a pastor's wife, cancer "thriver" and teller of really bad jokes. She writes and speaks about grabbing hold of the full life God has for us, no matter what gets thrown our way. Download her FREE AUDIO How to Handle Anything Life Throws at You
