Victimhood is a Fig Leaf

This is an incredibly insightful tweet by Dan Phillips:

Elizabeth Warren is emblematic of our time in a way I’ve not seen noted.

“Stolen valor” was the big sin of the past—false claims of achievement.

“Stolen victimhood” is Warren’s sin. A false claim of today’s most-coveted and sought-after status: that of VICTIM.— Dan Phillips (@BibChr) October 16, 2018

I beg you not to get lost in the politics of this thing. I’m not commenting on Elizabeth Warren or her claims to being a Native American. That’s beside the point. And I’m not using Dan’s tweet to make any kind of partisan point. I think what Dan says could be applied across parties. There is something unique going on in our culture and I think he’s hit the nail on the head. He’s absolutely correct that for many within our society the most sought-after-status is that of victim.

I know that sounds crazy and everything within us would like to deny that. And it sounds so mean and cruel to point a thing like this out—after all how dare we pile guilt on top of whatever atrocity someone has endured.  But that’s precisely the appeal of being a victim. And I believe it’s why this holds such an appeal for the gospel-rejecting climate in which we find ourselves. When you reject the gospel you also forsake your only covering. And in order to live with the shame which comes from such rebellion, those who actually can still blush will do one of two things: look for something to cover ourselves up or divert the other persons eyes from our nakedness.

The Covering of Victimhood

Consider this gem from Zack Eswine. He’s talking here about a woman who for years was the victim of his anger. But when he actually repents she isn’t sure what to do emotionally. God has answered her prayers about changing her husband but it’s also creating an unexpected and unwanted call for change in her own heart. I’ll let Eswine pick up here:

But she doesn’t like this. He has poorly expressed his anger for years. She should be allowed to for once! Instantly she is tempted to remove the welcome mat from the answered prayer. It makes sense why. After all, she can no longer talk about her husband in the way she always has. Her prayer requests for her husband at women’s group have to change. She no longer has a reason to avoid attention to her own issues. All this time he was the defensive and impatient one. Now she finds that she is defensive and impatient—not because he is mean but because he is gracious. Sometimes going to a new place of gospel freedom together is lovely to dream about and frightening to take hold of. (Eswine, 203)

Maybe I’m the only one who this relates to. Perhaps I’m the only one who was convicted when reading this from Eswine, but I’d venture to say that I’m not. Victimhood is appealing because it has a way of keeping us from having to deal with our own sin and our problems. It’s a way of diverting attention to our nakedness and diverting the eyes to another naked sinner.

Please don’t hear me saying something like the person raped is as bad as the rapist. That’s not the point, I’m making. I’m really talking about what happens in the time when we’re picking up the pieces of figuring out what it is that just happened to us. Nobody does that perfectly. Being a victim doesn’t automatically sanctify us. And so we’re going to sin against others even as we’ve been radically sinned against. Our culture of victimhood gives us a pass. But being a victim doesn’t change the nature of sin—it still aims to destroy us and dethrone God. And worse yet it has the ability to separate us from our only hope—God Himself.

Being a victim is a fig leaf.

It’s heart-breaking, soul-sucking, damaging, sorrowful, painful, life-taking, fill in the nasty adjective, that you’ve had this thing happen to you. It’s tragic how your identity has been swallowed up by this thing that happened to you. It’s powerful. It’s shaping. It’s confusing. But it’s not atoning.

Only Christ can truly take away our shame. He is able to swallow up the wrath that our guilt incurs as well as take the blows and the sting off the things that have happened to us. His role as Redeemer means far more than just his buying us off the auction block in the sin market. It means he takes us for all that we are and all that’s happened to us and is going to happen to us. He’s the One who replaces ashes with beauty. And he doesn’t do this because he’s a victim of injustice, though he is far more than any human ever. He does this because he is a conqueror.

Don’t make victim your sought after status. If you are in Christ you have a far more exalted status. Redeemed. Heir to the Kingdom. Possessor of Every Heavenly Gift. Friend of God. United to Jesus. Dig deeper into His wounds than you do into your own. That’s were it’s at.