#12: Mere Awkward, Senseless Shame

As you would expect, in the relationship improvement class, we talk about things that we can do to improve certain aspects of our relationships. [I know—heavy stuff. Just take a minute to process ... OK, keep reading.] They are often simple things such as giving service, asking sincere questions, and so on. I say that these things are simple, and they truly seem so in our abstract thoughts or even in our concrete plans, and yet so often we fail to do them. The question we must ask ourselves is, why? If these things were as easy as they appear to us to be, we would just do them, wouldn't we?

It seems to me that the simple answer to this question is, of course, yes. What is it then that makes these things hard? Beloved author C.S. Lewis offers this poignant insight: "I sometimes think that shame, mere awkward, senseless shame, does as much towards preventing good acts and straightforward happiness as any of our vices can do" (A Grief Observed, p. 9).

Let me first point out the important relationship between good acts and happiness that can be inferred from reading Lewis' statement. When we do good, we feel good. When we fail to do the good things we know we should do, we do not. And don't fool yourself into thinking that we don't know what we should do. We know what we ought to do, or at least we know how to find out what we ought to do, especially if we trust the Lord's promise that the "Holy Ghost ... will teach [us] all things" (John 14:26) that we should do on those occasions when we feel that don't already know exactly how to proceed.

The question is thus renewed: Why do we fail to do these things? If we believe Lewis, it is often because of "awkward, senseless shame." We fail to perform good acts that would lead to our happiness and that of others because we feel awkward, because we are embarrassed, because we fear how we will be received.

What selfish creatures we are! The paradox, however, is that our selfishness robs our "selves" and those that we profess to care about of happiness. The sooner we realize what idiots we are, the better. Can we please just get over ourselves already? Don't worry about how someone else will react; when you feel to do good, do good. I promise that both you as the doer and the recipient of your deed will be the better for it.

Let me offer an example from my recent past to illustrate. About a week ago, I was returning a video that I had rented when I noticed a man putting his fingers into some nearby vending machines, presumably to look for forgotten change. I thought to myself, "I bet he could use some money." I didn't have any cash, so I thought, "Oh well, I guess I can't help." Instead, I offered a quick prayer as I drove away, the substance of which was something like, "Father in Heaven, I don't know what exactly that man needs, but please help him to get it. Please inspire someone to know what to do for him."

I thought that would be the end of that, and I continued on my way home. But then a thought came into my mind—he had inspired someone to help, and that someone was me. I had failed. I tried to reason with myself, rationalizing that even if I had cash I couldn't have helped him. After all, who just goes up to a stranger (particularly a stranger that has not made a direct plea for my help—or did he? Maybe he asked God, and I just happened to be close by) and says, "Hey, can I give you some money?" That would be awkward; I would feel weird doing that. I tried to keep going toward my house, but I couldn't. I felt compelled to turn around. But what was I going to do? I still didn't have any money, and now I didn't even know where the man was. He was surely not where I had last seen him; he had been walking.

"Well," I thought, "at least I can fix the 'no-money-in-my-pocket' thing." I pulled into the nearest bank, went to the ATM, and withdrew a small sum of money. "Now what good does this do?" I thought next. "All I've done is waste money on ATM fees, because that wasn't even my bank. Besides, even if I knew where this guy was, it would still be awkward to just go up and hand him money."

I did my best to replace these thoughts quickly. I prayed instead, saying, in essence, "So now what God?" I got the impression that I should turn my car left out of the bank parking lot and head toward a nearby discount store. Sure enough, walking along the sidewalk, checking the vending machines in front of this store just as he had been doing when I had seen him at the video store, was the man for whom I was searching. "OK, I guess this is it," I thought as I parked my car and got out.

Truthfully, I still felt awkward. I didn't know what to say to this man. I knew nothing about him except that we were both children of the same Father, and our Dad had asked me to give him a little help. I tried to think of something reasonable to say, but nothing came. I ran out of time as I came face to face with him on the sidewalk. So, I did the only thing I could do—I told him the simple truth. "Excuse me," I said to him, holding out my hand with the money in it. "I just wanted to give you this." And do you know what? It wasn't awkward at all. He simply looked into my eyes, smiled, and said, "Thank you very much." As he put the money in his pocket, I looked back into his eyes, returned his smile, and said, "Have a nice night." "You too," he replied. And that was it. He continued on his way and I on mine. I can't speak for that man; I don't know exactly how he felt. One thing I can say, though, is that as I got back in my car and drove home, I didn't feel embarrassed or weird. I felt happy, and I hoped that my brother did too. Judging by the way he responded to me, I'd say it was pretty likely.

And so, I say again, get over yourself. Don't worry about feeling awkward; just do good in the world. Good acts and straightforward happiness really do go hand in hand. Our Savior "went about doing good" (Acts 10:38), and so should we. I close with the words of lyricist Will Thompson:

"Then wake up and do something more - Than dream of your mansion above - Doing good is a pleasure, a joy beyond measure - A blessing of duty and love."