God Loves Left-Handed People: Healing Shame, Redeeming Weakness

Here’s an interesting trivia question: What do Babe Ruth, Jimi Hendrix, Oprah Winfrey, and Barack Obama have in common?

They’re all left-handed.

The fact that left-handed people can be successful in our society should not be taken for granted. For much of American history, left-handedness wasn’t just unusual; it was seen as a problem to be fixed.

Throughout the 19th and early 20th centuries, children who favored their left hand were often corrected in school, sometimes forcibly. Teachers would tie their hands behind their backs, slap students with rulers, or embarrass them in front of the other children. What was the problem? It was a mix of superstition, efficiency (since many everyday household objects, such as scissors, were designed for the right hand), and, oddly enough, a growing—but poorly understood—body of research suggesting that left-handedness correlated with learning issues like stuttering.

Don’t dismiss that last part. That correlation wasn’t entirely without basis.

Howard I. Kushner, a historian of medicine and neuroscience, has examined this peculiar link in his research on left-handedness and developmental disorders. He points out that studies in the early 20th century noted higher rates of speech problems—especially stuttering—among children who were left-handed or had been retrained to use their right hand. Later interpretations of the science varied, but the emerging pattern raises an important question about shame, of all things. And it also brings to light an incredible truth about how God uses weaknesses.

To comprehend these ideas, it is helpful to understand how the brain functions.

A Crash Course in the Brain’s Rewiring Powers

The human brain possesses an incredible built-in ability known as neuroplasticity. That’s the scientific term for the brain’s capacity to rewire itself. I was fascinated to learn that our neurons can forge new pathways. The connections in our brains can literally be rerouted. It’s why stroke patients can recover speech. It’s why trauma survivors can rebuild their sense of safety. And it’s why the brain, especially in childhood, is never really “set in stone.”

But here’s the key: the context in which that rewiring happens matters deeply.

When the brain needs to be rewired due to trauma of some type, introducing this process in a supportive, patient, and secure environment increases the likelihood that the brain will adapt in healthy, long-lasting ways. But if it’s forced—especially under pressure, ridicule, or shame—the outcome can be disordered, even damaging.

This is precisely what some researchers began to suspect in cases where teachers were retraining left-handed children to use their right hand. Merely the act of switching hands was not the problem. The environment in which the correction occurred led to some children developing stuttering, coordination difficulties, or a persistent sense of self-consciousness. They weren’t just learning a new skill. They were being told—directly or indirectly—that how God had designed them was wrong.

When Shame Blocks Transformation

Listen carefully. Shame doesn’t just wound the heart. It can disrupt the very pathways the brain needs to grow. And while we might not be tying children’s hands behind their backs anymore, we’ve found new ways to shame people into conformity.

We do it with snide comments on social media. With labels and assumptions. With elitism disguised as “excellence.” With the kind of sarcasm that masks judgment. These may not be as visible as a classroom correction, but the effect can be the same: creating an internal pressure to hide the very things that make us unique.

But here’s the good news: God doesn’t operate like that.

When Weakness Meets God’s Presence

God does not shame us into transformation.

So what happens when we bring our weaknesses, our limitations, and even our shame into His presence?

Something remarkable.

God's presence is never a context of shame. He doesn’t bind, or slap us with rulers, or embarrass us in front of our peers. He never rejects us because of our weaknesses —He welcomes us despite them. And in His hands, what was once a liability becomes an instrument of grace.

The prophet Joel once said, “Let the weak say, ‘I am strong’” (Joel 3:10, NASB). At first glance, it sounds like a contradiction. How can the weak call themselves strong?

The answer isn’t found in denial or delusion. It’s found in a declaration of faith. When weakness is brought into the presence of God, it takes on the nature of His presence. His strength is not merely laid over our weakness like a proverbial band-aid—it transforms it at its core.

The Left Hand of Deliverance

There’s a character in the Bible that illustrates this beautifully, though most people skip right over him. He’s a featured character in my current sermon series “One Hit Wonders.”

His name was Ehud, a little-known judge in Israel’s history (Judges 3). The Bible goes out of its way to tell us one unusual detail: he was left-handed. Left-handedness was also viewed with suspicion in ancient Near Eastern society. Cultural records from Mesopotamia and Israel’s surrounding neighbors show that the left side was often associated with ill omen or weakness. At the same time, the right was symbolic of power, blessing, and order.

Now God could have corrected Ehud’s left-handedness, of course. But He did not. He didn’t rewire it. He used it.

Because Ehud was left-handed, he was able to strap a short dagger to his inside right thigh, exactly where palace guards wouldn't expect it. Right-handed warriors drew swords from the left hip. Ehud, undetected, slipped into the throne room of an oppressive Moabite king—and with one swift move, delivered Israel from bondage.

His “weakness” was perfectly suited for the task God had designed for him.

Redeemed, Not Replaced

Ehud is a perfect illustration for a closing principle: God’s transformation of our weaknesses doesn’t always mean removing the issue. Sometimes, He leaves it in place—and then places us in the exact context where that weakness becomes a strength. 

That’s not spiritual denial. That’s redemption. That’s what it means to say, “Let the weak say, I am strong.”

Maybe your past haunts you. Perhaps you carry scars that others can’t see—or won’t understand. But what if that exact thing you’ve wanted God to remove is the thing He wants to reassign?

Ehud’s left hand wasn’t healed. It was hidden—until the moment it mattered. And when the time came, God used what had been overlooked to overthrow a king and liberate a nation.

God loves left-handed people—literally and figuratively. He loves the ones who don’t quite fit. The ones who feel off-balance. Those who have been told they need fixing. And in His presence, He doesn’t just fix us. He redeems us.

Your weakness isn’t the end of the story. It might just be the start of deliverance.