The Vocabulary Lesson
By Kathy Oehler
In the summer of 2020, I subscribed to a good news service. There hadn’t seemed to be anything but bad news for months, and I welcomed this email every morning at 6 am in my inbox. I made it a practice to be the first thing I read, most of the time in bed before my feet even touched the floor.
Every so often I would receive an article and video about a parent or teacher who was speaking words of affirmation over a child, and then inviting the child to repeat the words out loud.
There was a mother fixing her preschool daughter’s hair before school:
“I am beautiful! I am strong! I am good! I am kind!”
The child repeated each declaration wholeheartedly in a loud voice. There was a middle school teacher with a full length mirror outside her door. Before each child entered the classroom, they stood before that mirror and said something positive about themselves and got a high five from the teacher. I just loved these wise adults who used words of encouragement and edification to come against the negative messages they knew these children faced daily. Beautiful, and oh so empowering.
The more I watched these videos I couldn’t help but think about the words I had been fed about myself as a child, and how much they shaped and defined me. What came to mind when I looked at myself in the mirror? Why have I been so intensely uncomfortable with positive self-declarations? As I’ve spent time pondering this, I see that the greatest damage to my self-image has been the words “unworthy” and “undeserving”.
My first memory of hearing these words was when I was 5 years old. I was waiting for my father outside my elementary school at the end of the day. He was always on time, but on this particular day he was late. I remember the minutes ticking by and becoming more and more afraid of being left there alone.
At some point, our next door neighbor offered to drive me home with her children. With relief, I climbed in and was home in 5 minutes. My panicked father arrived home a few minutes later and obviously was very unhappy. I was at the receiving end of my parents’ anger for several minutes, then things quieted down.
A bit later, I walked into the kitchen and found my mother standing at the sink. She reached into the cupboard overhead and pulled out a small package of M&M’s, a very rare treat. Frowning, she put them into my hand, “Here. These are for you, but you don’t deserve them.” Even to this day, when I allow myself to sink into this memory, I feel the deep shame of that moment and the monumental struggle in my little girl heart, desperately wanting the candy, but having to own shame in order to receive it. This was the beginning of my life-long companionship with unworthiness. Once I started parochial school at the age of 8, and for the next 5 decades, being inherently undeserving of any blessing or gift grew deeply entrenched in me. Being unworthy became part of my identity.
When I was in my early 30’s I became active in a church community. I had an intense spiritual hunger and I attended bible studies, prayer groups and conferences as often as I could. There was always much talk, just as there had been in school, about how much God loved me and how he wanted to pour out his blessings and gifts upon me, if only I would surrender and receive them. But, in the midst of all these assurances, always, ALWAYS, there was a reminder of how much it cost God to gift me, suffering and death being the price tag, and for that reason I was, from birth, unworthy and undeserving of any of it.
Embracing shame when receiving from God was expected. To presume I was deserving of God’s blessing meant I was guilty of the sin of pride, and I knew well how much God hated a prideful person. I once spent a whole weekend at a retreat on joy and blessings. I spent two days being shored up to be open to receiving, only to be told in the last hour at the closing worship service, “Remember, none of us is worthy to receive. Jesus died so you can have this joy.”
I felt my spirit sink. Any gains that had been made within me that weekend were washed away with those words. When I moved into ministry in my late 30’s and 40’s, I realized I was not alone in my woundedness. I heard those same words many, many times from those who came to me for a listening ear and prayers for healing. “I am not worthy to serve God. I don’t deserve to be healed. I am not worthy of God’s love.
I cannot receive God’s blessings.” These were good people, mostly women, who were spiritually hungry and longing for a relationship with God. They were suffering terribly and needed to know that they were loved and that God was present and wanted beautiful things for them. But, their damaged spirits were closed to any evidence that God wanted to pour good into their lives. Like me, it was impossible for them to fully receive. I remember ministering to one woman regularly. In my time with her, I would pray with her, assuring her of God’s great love and desire for her healing. She’d listen, nod her head, admit her continued struggle with feeling unworthy, and we’d take a tiny baby step. I would give her words of encouragement from Scripture to read aloud in the days between our visits. Then, come Sunday, I would see her in church, and halfway through the service our congregation would declare as one:
“Lord, I am not worthy to receive you….”
I knew that any tiny progress we had made days before had been washed away the minute she and every else in that room spoke those words aloud before communion. That sanctuary became one giant mirror, our declarations reflecting off of one another.
During 25 years of actively journeying spiritually, God had been trying to get through to me. But, it was incredibly slow progress. I’d spend so much time alone with him in prayer, reading and writing.
Everything I took in and put on paper was beautiful, encouraging, and edifying. I met my now closest spiritual companion who, remarkably, has never lived under the pain of unworthiness. He is a master at edification. He never ceases to remind me, and everyone he ministers to, how breathtaking we are in the eyes of God. He knew my deep wound and was always reminding me of my worthiness,
admonishing me countless times to “stand before the mirror Kathryn and say ‘I am worthy.’“ He’d been
speaking to me this way for nearly 20 years. But, just like the woman I ministered to, it never fully got
through. I’d be lifted up and strengthened in this truth, and then go to church and say aloud those
words before communion:
“Lord, I am not worthy to receive you…”
Those words that I had been saying for 50 years were my cage. Then one night 8 years ago, God used a moment of falling in love to free me…..
Shortly after my grandson was born, I flew to the beautiful northwest to help my son and his family. As so often happens, my grandson got his days and nights mixed up, and one night at 10 o’clock, he was wide awake and a bit fussy. I sent his parents off to bed for a few hours of much needed sleep and I took the baby into the living room. There was only one lamp glowing in the corner of the room. I wrapped him in a blanket, held him in my arms, and began walking and singing a hymn:
“Jesus, name above all names…”
He quieted down immediately and stared up at me with wide blue eyes.
“…Beautiful Savior, glorious Lord….”
We gazed at each other and his pacifier moved slowly in and out of his little mouth.
“…Emmanuel, God is with us….”
Everything fell away but the two of us and I stood still.
“…Blessed Redeemer, Living Word.”
My heart burst open and I felt an immense rush of love.
Then, a voice deep within…
“Kathryn?”
“Yes, Lord”, I replied.
“Do you love this child?”
“Oh yes, with all my heart.”
“Do the words ‘worthiness’ or ‘deserving’ have any place in your vocabulary right now?”
I searched my heart. “No Lord, they do not.”
“Neither do they have a place in Mine.”
In that instant I understood completely. I breathed in the fresh air of freedom and finally fully embraced my healing. That night I thought of all the dear ones in my life, and how “worthiness” and “deserving” had no place in my heart in my love for any of them. To emphasize the message even more, I actually had a dream that I was handing out gifts on Christmas Day to my children. As I handed over each one, I smiled and said, “I love you and this is for you. You do not deserve this though.” I watched their smiles fade and felt their gut punches of shame and guilt. I knew that this is something I would never do to my children, and I am an imperfect person. Why would I believe that God, who loves perfectly, would have that kind of relationship with me?
I returned home and never again said those words in worship. I was able to stand in front of the mirror and declare my worthiness to be in relationship with the One who finds me breathtaking, and to gratefully and joyfully receive everything offered without reservation. I discovered that saying it aloud and living it was not pride or presumption, but deeply humbling. For me, radical acceptance of every gift with joy and gratitude is true humility.
You. Are. Worthy.
