Shadow work

In my sermon this weekend, I make a passing reference to confronting our demons, as one of the things we’re invited to do during this season of Lent. By demons, I’m speaking figuratively about the shadow work we all need to do if we’re to embrace the fullness of what we can be.

By shadow work, I mean bringing up from the basement of our minds those parts of our make-up that we buried and haven’t figured out what to do with or that are so much a part of us that we’ll never lose them but we still haven’t made peace with yet.

August Wilson, Pulitzer-winning playwright, offered this encouragement: "Confront the dark parts of yourself, and work to banish them with illumination and forgiveness. Your willingness to wrestle with your demons will cause your angels to sing. Use the pain as fuel, as a reminder of your strength."

I like this, although don’t quite agree with the second phrase, particularly for my purpose today. Rather, I’d say “work to make peace with them with welcome and forgiveness.” After all, what we’re talking about here are parts of who God made us to be that we’ve resisted, or been discouraged from. Better to work on integrating these aspects of ourselves into “who we are”.

Lent is a time for self-examination, for reflecting on the ways we aren’t fully what God longs for us to be. It’s a chance to face whatever we allow to get between us and God, and between us and everyone else. And, it’s a chance to grow a little closer to that wholeness God wants for us.

I don’t know what this shadow work would mean for you. It’s different for each of us. As an illustration, I offer a bit of my own work from last summer – something I wrote while away for a workshop. As a preface, shadow work is by its nature a very personal thing. So what follows, about a facet of my life I wrestle with regularly, is also personal.

“… I’d been standing in the parking lot following the afternoon’s Q & A session, wanting to be with other people, but, not having talked with anyone about their plans, not knowing where they’d be. This got me thinking about how often I’ve let others – usually without their knowing – influence my state of mind.

“Years ago I’d occasionally go to a bar with friends, there to put up with loud music and not hearing the conversation, and generally, be bored silly. Why would I do this? It is an unfortunate part of my nature that although I’m most definitely an introvert, I long for companionship.

“… Being unwilling to engage in small talk (an introvert thing), and so, not learning how to connect with people until well into adulthood, I’ve been alone a lot. To a point, that’s okay. Alone works for introverts. But like the rest of humankind, I’m made to be in community. I crave it even as I shy from it. This is my dilemma. 

“In the past I’ve made some bad choices trying to escape my self-made box. But one of the promises I’ve made since my divorce is that I will be honest with myself. Whatever I do or don’t do, there will be no more pretending that my reasons are nobler than they are. No prevaricating.

“It isn’t pretty. I’m still sitting alone. But I can face myself and I can face God.”