The habit of practicing vulnerability
Photo by Lexi Wilson
There I was, spilling out all of it—the messy, gross, real stuff you pretend doesn’t exist. Yep, the self-consumed, irrational, and insecure parts of myself that I constantly fight to suppress had surfaced and now filled the space between us. I felt naked and cold, searching for my jacket to wrap tightly around me in an effort to somehow pull it all back deep within the safe walls of my body. Man, I really need to get my nails done—I was looking down at my neglected fingers, too afraid to see her response. “Lexi.”
I reluctantly lifted my eyes.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Vulnerability is a battle. Part of me will always cling to the safety of keeping who I really am buried beneath my skin. It feels cozy that way, only sharing the things I deem risk-free. It’s a pretty odd bed I make for myself though, as the loud drum of wanting to be known—truly known—is the constant beat of my heart. I close the door, turn off the lights and cover up with blanket after blanket, convincing myself I’m comfortable when my body actually craves the warmth of sunshine. How do I get there? Can I get there?
Yes. By the grace of Jesus. His grace is enough because He already chooses you and me, even when others don’t. He sees not just the cleaned-up version of myself I share on social media and think will impress my peers, but the raw, wild and undone woman I am, and yet He still calls you and I worthy. That endless grace is what allows us to walk in freedom—freedom to share exactly who He’s so creatively crafted us to be.
It’s really hard to be vulnerable with others when we’re walking through life like an orphan. In fact, I think we often choose to be a runaway because this kind of commitment scares the heck out of us. But friends, our heart has a home, and Jesus will go to the ends of the earth to make that steadfast love known to us and He has. He’s chosen us as his beloved to the point of death on a cross. The depth of His great love gives us confidence to confront the depth of our sin and come home.
Our adoption as sons and daughters of God is something that can never be taken from us. Our identity is secure, so we can and are called to practice vulnerability with our world. The beautiful face of our Creator is within us, even in the midst of our muck, because He reconciles the places we fall short.
When we press into vulnerability, we not only glorify Him, but put ourselves in a position to witness His glory through the sweet words of a friend, staring at you from across the couch and promising to stay put through it all. So let’s lean in, family, moving towards relational depth, even when it’s scary, because we are seen fully by the God of the universe and are loved relentlessly still.