In those circles that follow and discuss depth psychology – especially that which was built up by Carl Jung – there’s a line of thought that suggests we ought to integrate our shadow side.
A black-and-white understanding of our shadow would equate to our dark, immoral side. A shades-of-gray understanding would include underdeveloped aspects of our personality, character weaknesses and all those things we’re too uncomfortable or embarrassed to admit into consciousness.
From a Christian perspective, to say that we should deliberately mix what is impure with the pure is clearly wrong. But the sad truth is, we mix the profane with the holy constantly, even if unknowingly. Then there are those of us who know better and do a moral head-fake to deny the overwhelming evidence of our sin so that we can live with ourselves.
This mystery of sin is deep and painful to accept – at least for those who strive to know God and desire to stay close to Him. To understand sin, you have to understand an even deeper mystery: God’s presence in each and every one of us.
We are living souls, souls created by and invested with the living spirit of God. God is with us. He is in us and sustains us. He goes where we go. And as He allows the sun to shine on both the good and the evil, He does not take away our free will or cause our soul to cease when we sin. It is very difficult to reconcile these two contrasting realities within us, the profane and the holy.
But because we drag God through the mud of our immorality, the worst thing we could do is to deny that fact or keep repressing those parts of ourselves that need Christ’s healing touch.
All the characters in the Gospel who came to Jesus pleading for mercy and healing – the blind beggar, the gentile woman who begged for her daughter and any number of the sick that the apostles tried to hold back – they are like those wounded and diseased parts of ourselves that cry out in desperation for relief. But we, too embarrassed, repress them, hold them back. We keep them out of sight and try to silence them lest anyone notice and harm come to our reputation, our standing in the community. But they cry out even louder: “Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me!”
Too many Christians fall into this trap of whitewashing their religious exterior – and it is their undoing. It’s a psychological fact that if you deny the existence of immoral urges within you because of the embarrassment or discomfort they bring, the more power you give them. Like trying to keep a beach ball under water, at some point these dark tendencies will shoot back up with incredible force. They will break through unconsciousness into your every-day world and wreak havoc. Not only that, but it takes a tremendous amount of energy to keep them down – energy that could be put to much better use.
This is the dilemma St. Paul puzzles over when he laments the fact he does what he should not and knows not to do. In the end, he realizes he can appeal only to the grace of Christ. And that is what we must do.
We must bring every part of ourselves to the Redeemer – our whole person – for grace and healing. We can’t just bring the good – our “holy” persona – the things we feel right about. We have to bring the leper, the adulterer, the envious, the glutton, the addict, the hater and self-righteous hypocrite to God. Do we actually expect God to confirm us in our “goodness” when we leave all these deformed and sinful parts of ourselves behind – and which he thoroughly sees and knows? Do we go to God to make us feel more secure in our manufactured goodness or do we go to Him as sinners to receive forgiveness and peace from His absolution?
And is our community one that makes room only for the “spiritually fit?” Have we fallen into the old trap of setting up an inward-looking privileged class – even if “spiritualized?” Or does our spirituality enable us to go beyond our comfort zone and bring in the broken, the weary and the despondent? Isn’t that in fact, who we Christians often are ourselves? Wouldn’t it be nice if we who really strive to follow God, yet are broken and barely hanging on at times, could be on the receiving side of Christian ministry?
But the price is high. It would mean toppling that self-image we’ve spent so much time erecting. Or that we collectively erect to make ourselves feel better as a community.
We should be more concerned about charity directing us in all of our affairs than about doing something praiseworthy – which, again, could serve to keep us feeling smug. Yes, our Father in Heaven wants us to be perfect. And we should strive for perfection. But the minute we set up perfection – or being good and virtuous – as our god, we lose it all.
We are to worship God alone, and God is love.
Humility will preserve us in God’s will. Like the psalmist who asks God to reveal his hidden faults, we should be humble enough to admit that we, too, have sins we are unaware of – or choose to ignore. Not sins in general, but specific sins. Real sins.
And yet, we ask ourselves: “How can this be? How can God and sin coexist within me? This can’t be. I won’t tolerate it.” But this truth about everyone of us is undeniable. It takes a great deal of humility to swallow this pride of ours – where being the “perfect Christian” versus seeking God with all our being becomes the goal.
Striving to be the perfect Christian instead of the loving Christian sets us up for a big fall. We want to be good so desperately that we can’t accept the fact that there’s a sinful side to us. So, we go to great lengths to deny it. Again, this is exactly what gives strength to our shadow.
We must not get fixated with always being perfect while we constantly strive for perfection. This is a humble, trying path along which we will stumble and fall. That is why we need the Redeemer. He can help us love these inferior parts of ourselves and bring them into His light so they might be transformed.
Jesus was never scandalized by anyone’s sins any more than a doctor is scandalized by the diseases of patients. Jesus did not come to condemn, but to heal, redeem and save. Let Him have His way with you. And be like Him when you see so clearly the fallen nature of others.