Shame vs. Conviction: What Voice Are You Listening To?

I wasn’t my best self that day. I was stir crazy from quarantine, weary from the endless digital communication, and just downright grumpy. I called into a daily meeting and got asked for an update on something I didn’t realize was in my court.

“Yesterday, you mentioned you would get with Ben to talk through this. Do y’all have an update for me?”

Completely honest question and plea for help, right? Well, my salty mood felt otherwise, apparently.

Without hesitation, I snapped back, “That’s not what I said. I didn’t say I was getting with Ben, I was asking YOU to get with Ben.”

There’s a lot about this response that was wholly unhelpful (not the least of which was my tone), but you want to know the stupidest thing about it? BEN WAS ON THE CALL WITH US. How easy would it have been to just redirect the question his way for a real-time answer? Instead, I was in a petty, stick-it-to-the-man mood.

I barely finished my sentence before my gut was twisting with regret. I knew better.

I’m sure you’ve been in a similar situation where a reaction felt warranted in the moment, only to have that moment play over and over again in your mind as regret washes over you.

We all handle the aftermath a little differently. Some of us puff up our ego and work to justify our actions. Some of us beat ourselves up and plummet into a shame spiral. Some of us stuff the feeling down and ignore it entirely. And to make matters a little more confusing, we’re inundated all day long with feel-good posts and articles making appeals like, “you have permission to reject what makes you uncomfortable”, and “you have a right to not live in shame”, and “it’s okay to show yourself some grace”. These sound great, but what do they actually mean? What is the action at the end of all of these?

There is admittedly some merit to these appeals, but ultimately, they aren’t teaching us to fully process a poor decision or shortcoming; they’re teaching us to make them disappear as quickly as possible. Telling ourselves we don’t have to feel shame and then immediately moving on creates a moral vacuum. It weakens the emotional discipline required to sit with the discomfort and consequences of an action until we’re moved right our wrongs.

Look, I’m the first to speak up and say you don’t have to live in shame. Shame is a bondage we were never meant to carry. But the goal isn’t to walk away from shame; the goal is to turn it into constructive conviction. Conviction doesn’t beat us into the ground like shame but it also doesn’t allow us to stay the same. It holds us accountable and inspires us to live better.

I traveled through all the layers of shame when I hung up the phone that morning, but not before trying to justify my actions. I went back to the direct message conversation from the previous day to prove to myself I had been clear, when lo and behold, staring back at me was a message rife with ambiguity. I clearly had sent a mixed message.

The waves of shame came crashing in: “You’re a weak leader. Who responds this way when others need help? This team deserves someone better.”

The guilt felt heavy as the waves continued to overwhelm me: “You hate finger-pointing and here you are playing the blame game. You set an awful example of leadership and lost trust with the team.”

The rush of accusations showed no signs of slowing, and I knew I had two options: allow the waves to pull me under or find a way to master them.

Mastering the Waves of Shame

Experienced surfers would tell you there are two distinct behaviors of the ocean that can be spotted when you’re scanning the seascape — broad incoming waves and narrow outgoing currents. These currents usually appear calmer and are indicative of what is a called a rip current. Rip currents cut through waves in the opposite direction, acting as an up escalator, if you will. The incoming waves move toward the shore, acting as a down escalator. 1

Inexperienced surfers don’t recognize how to spot the rip current and use it to carry them back out to sea for another surf. Instead, they swim against the waves to get back out, and it’s like trying to go up the down escalator. Not only does it take more time and energy, but the waves can constantly pull you under all along the way.

Shame is like the waves. Most people will fight to swim against them or they’ll give up early and stay at shore, never realizing the rip current is there to carry them out to sea and position them to win against the waves.

But here’s the thing, the rip current can be hard to spot unless you’ve become familiar with the waves and how they contrast with the calm channels. In other words, if you don’t examine the incoming shame, then you won’t know where to look for the conviction that leads to growth.

Just like waves and rip currents, shame and conviction are closely connected but traveling in opposite directions with opposite goals. Listen to the difference:

1. Shame is the condemnation we feel over falling short. Conviction is the responsibility we feel to right our wrongs.
2. Shame holds us in contempt. Conviction holds us accountable.
3. Shame leads us to believe our identity has been stained. Conviction leads us back to the values that define us.
4. Shame speaks in broad accusation. Conviction speaks in concentrated correction.
5. Shame defeatedly asks, “How could I have done this?” Conviction optimistically asks, “How could I have done better?”

The shame I felt that day was an indicator of a lesson I needed to learn, but I needed to move myself out of the inflow of accusation and into the outflow of action. When I started to reorient myself is when conviction started to speak: “We’re a team that takes ownership and serves the people around us. We assume the best of each other and always leave room for the possibility that we’re the ones in the wrong. Kind leaders are clear with their instructions and expectations.”

This life-giving, gracious voice was pointing me back to my core values. And with that, I was moved to make amends, to offer my help, and to show up differently to every exchange that followed. I found grace for myself, not in ignoring the shame or replacing it with feel-good appeals, but in answering it with the eternal values I’m convicted to live by.

You get to decide whether a shortcoming will be your oppressor or your opportunity — an opportunity to courageously move yourself into the current that cuts through the barrage of accusation so you can come riding back in on the very waves that sought to take you under.