On Unlearning Feelings of Worthlessness

Reclaiming Ash Wednesday

Photo by Thays Orrico on Unsplash

I’ve always loved Ash Wednesday and Good Friday services. These holidays were a relief from so much Christian toxic positivity and pretending to be fine. Here are days we acknowledge that grief exists! And that life is really dark sometimes, even if you’ve “given your heart to Jesus.”

For years I sobbed my way through Ash Wednesday services. On the one hand, the service was a release valve for all of the silent, ambiguous grief I was carrying from growing up in an alcoholic household. On the other, my Ash Wednesday obsession was part of an unhealthy fixation on sin and repentance.

I came by this obsession honestly: being raised in Calvinist churches meant learning that all people were inherently evil and any good deed you witnessed or participated in wasn’t actually that person choosing to do good, it was the mercy of God alone. Even our salvation was more random accident of God’s grace than any active choice on our part.

And the Christian Contemporary Music (CCM) I listened to on heavy rotation definitely reinforced these beliefs. The podcast Good Christian Fun has dubbed the predominant message of the CCM of this era as, “I’m-a-Piece-of-Shit Theology.”

So I examined and reexamined my “sins”—the greatest of which was probably rolling my eyes at my parents or consensually making out with my boyfriend. I emotionally self-flagellated and wallowed in my guilt, hoping that at some point, my anguish would give way to feelings of forgiveness, relief, and finally being “pure” enough to receive God’s love.

But it never did. Because the truth is, I wasn’t following God, just my inner critic. And the inner critic lies. They say that if you just do x, y, and z, you’ll finally be “good enough,” but then they move the goal posts again. Obsessive judgment never leads to freedom, only to tighter and tighter restrictions.

Shame and fear were my primary motivators in life. Fear of rejection kept me from expressing my needs and demanding fair treatment. Like a lot of women, I became a doormat. And that was extremely useful to a lot of people—both family members who wanted to use me and greater patriarchal structures within the church that care more about domination and control than love.

This realization made me angry. And my anger helped me set boundaries. Part of these boundaries was leaving Christianity for a few years. I needed that time to process what had been done to me and to evaluate what I really wanted rather than obsessing over what I should do.

This time away helped me realize that there are things I do love about Christianity, and I’m not willing to cede my faith to a bunch of loudmouth, abusive, patriarchal assholes.

But what to do with Ash Wednesday now? Is there something useful in this story for someone like me? Someone who isn’t down to feel worthless and ashamed anymore?

I think so. One of the stories often tied into Ash Wednesday is the story of Jesus being tempted in the desert. For forty days, Jesus fasts and prays in the desert and then Satan appears to tempt him. In these temptations, the Satan character is twisting the truth, trying to manipulate Jesus into forgetting his purpose and instead follow the demands of his ego—for food, to prove himself, to gain power.

The triumph of this story is that Jesus stays connected to his greater identity and purpose, instead of being derailed by outside voices. It makes me think of the people (including the church itself) that have asked me to believe lies about myself: that I was unworthy, that my purpose in life was to be a wife and mother, that my primary utility to God was as a doormat.

It’s common to give up alcohol or chocolate during Lent. But this year I’m feeling called towards a deeper fast: what would it look like to give up the lies we’ve been told about ourselves? What would it look like to practice ignoring the voices that distract us and focus instead on a greater purpose?

As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments!

BONUS MATERIALS:

• I must share this shame-slaying Christian drag queen hit in repentance for mentioning CCM

• obligatory Ash Wednesday joke: