Vulnerable

Vulnerability can be terrifying. We're petrified of letting people see the real person inside—fears, scars, insecurities, weakness, and all. We've been hurt and rejected, so we hide our hearts away for fear others would hurt and reject us as well. We build up walls like a scab over a healing wound, a tough exterior protecting and hiding a still-bleeding hurt. But scabs are not supposed to last forever. Wounds are meant to heal and scabs to eventually fall off. Too often, however, the wounds of our hearts are not so simply mended.

Personally, I’ve always been the strong one. Always tried to have it all together—my actions, attitudes, emotions, circumstances, everything. People need me to be strong, I tell myself. I’ve even sometimes bought into the lie that I need to appear strong before God, forgetting he already knows my every weakness -- see the I Can Do This post from last month for more on that.

In this day and age, sharing our hearts is risky. Our culture of self-focus and every man for himself makes vulnerability a landmine of potential hurt. It seems safer and easier to shut ourselves away, because we don’t know who will throw us under the bus without a care.

Not to say that we have to be vulnerable with everyone. But God created us for community and vulnerability. There are those He has put in our lives who are worthy of our trust, who long to go to a deeper level of relationship with us, if only we’d let down the Great Walls Of Fear surrounding our souls. 

God has crafted our hearts to need each other, but more importantly to need him. Which is why community and relationships are always so fiercely under attack, so harshly distorted. Ever since Adam and Eve first hid from God, we’ve hidden and doubted, avoiding intimacy and running from the One who already knows us better than we know ourselves.

We second guess God's unconditional love and acceptance. Can he really look at my scars, my failures, my short-comings and still love? Will he not quickly abandon this ship when he sees the fullness and extent of my brokenness?

Here’s truth: God says, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you." (Hebrews 13:5)

My scars, failures, short-comings and brokenness—i.e. sin— was placed on Jesus. He already shouldered the greatest vulnerability on the cross —  weak, pierced, forsaken, rejected, for my sake. Because Jesus was forsaken, I am forever accepted in Christ by God. Because he was weakened, I now find strength. Not my version, but his. True humble, vulnerable strength.

We were created to accept and be accepted. By God first, embracing his gift of unconditional love purchased for us on the cross. Then by others, knowing we’re all together on this journey of salvation and sanctification–riddled with weaknesses, but covered with amazing grace.

In this knowledge, my silly façade of strength can do nothing but crumble. In this place I remember that it’s okay to be vulnerable, that perhaps vulnerability is a good, God-ordained thing. No, it’ll never be safe. But it’s where my weakness displayed in humanity can be turned into strength for God.

This doesn’t mean always making myself the focus, or always having to make my every thought known. It means honest and sincere sharing and listening. Accepting and being accepted. Living in true relationship and community.

Sometimes vulnerability can be the hardest thing we do. And sometimes weakness is the most powerful picture of strength.

Because my security, identity and self-worth aren't found in human acceptance, but in Christ alone, I can dare to share my weaknesses with those around me. In Him, I can let go of counterfeit strength, embrace vulnerability and be real.