In high school and at the beginning of college, I was an expert at "fitting in". Being sensitive to the needs of others around me allowed me to cater my attitudes, behaviors and, frighteningly enough, eventually my thoughts into whatever way would benefit the relationships around me and allow me to feel as if I "fit in". The problem was that I never truly felt accepted and did not feel true belonging, because belonging is a byproduct of being accepted for who you truly are-- when you're honest about your thoughts, feelings, emotions, joys and fears.
For the first year or two after I accepted Christ, I became a part of a Christian sub-culture that told me exactly how to act and feel and respond. Question? Go to the Bible. Fear? Go to the Bible. There was a scripture for everything and I began to live in a robotic way, quoting scripture and monitoring my thoughts and feelings to what was "holy" and "sanctifying". Now, I do fully believe that being holy and sanctified is a true gift; but the gift I was receiving was tainted by my sub-conscious expectation that if I didn't do it the "right" way, I wouldn't truly be accepted. How far from true grace.
We've all experienced it. The disapproving glance. The careful wording of a thought or emotion to prevent anyone from misinterpreting it and reading into it (which, frankly, is impossible because that standard of perfectionism is always going to be based on other people's perceptions-- perceptions that change daily and even hourly). How exhausting to live under such (sometimes self-imposed) scrutiny.
Over the past 6-7 years, I've truly come to understand my identity in Christ AND as a person (which are inextricably connected for me). I've started to practice the art of vulnerability in a more risky way. The last few days have been a clear example of how God (and my community) has met me in this place and offered the freedom to just be.
A few nights ago I was on the phone sharing a story with one of my closest friends. My mom found a cd that an old neighbor/ friend made for me. When I saw the handwritten note on the cd cover, I remembered a moment with this friend that brought up deep emotion within me. We were sitting in my room and we had just finished praying. He looked at me for a moment then said, "I love the way you say Jesus' name. It's as if I can tell how much you love Him just by hearing you say his name."
It was a beautiful reminder of the deep and intimate love relationship I had with my Savior. But as I remembered his words this time around, all I could feel was a deep sadness.
"I feel as if we are like an old married couple now," I said to my friend on the other end of the line. "I know I love Him, but it seems as if I'm not as in love with Him anymore."
We talked for awhile and said our goodnights and Daniel slowly entered the room. He was visibly shaken up. "I heard you on the phone," he slowly said, in a low voice. "Who were you talking to?" he asked.
"Julie," (my friend's name) I said, wondering why he seemed so upset. And then it hit me. He thought I was talking about HIM. He thought I was telling my best friend about my dwindling romance with him! I asked him if this is what he thought and he immediately enveloped me in a hug and replied, "Yes, it really worried me".
It wasn't a good thing either way, whether I was talking about my husband or my Savior, but as we talked I posed the question, "I wonder what Jesus thinks about what just happened? I wonder what His thoughts are about this exchange?"
"He probably feels the same way I did," Daniel whispered. "He's probably hurt."
And then it hit me. Jesus feels hurt over strained relationships which means Jesus allows Himself to be vulnerable. My vulnerability to my friend (and Daniel's sharp overhearing ears :)) allowed me to see a physical representation of Jesus' love and care for me in my husband's response, which in turn deepened my relationship with my Savior (and my husband)--which was the very thing I had been hoping and praying for over the past few days. Plus I was able to assure my husband that I am completely IN love with him. :)
If being vulnerable with one other person is a cool glass of water, practicing vulnerability in community is a waterfall. Today at church, we had a time for prayer requests. Although we go to a small church, it can seem daunting because during prayer requests, individuals stand up where they are sitting (yes, in front of the whole church) and share their request. It's authenticity and vulnerability at it's riskiest (and best). Today, I took my scared and shaking self, and slowly stood up to share the pain in my heart about feeling as if my relationship with Jesus was becoming more stagnant than dynamic. "I know He's still pursuing me," I said. "But I just need prayers for the grace to pursue Him in the way my heart desires."
I sat down (still shaking, mind you), and a friend turned around and whispered, "great prayer." After church, a couple of people came up to me and mentioned that they had the same exact prayer request, and it was as if they wanted to raise their hand and "second" what I just said.
I took the risk to be vulnerable, and I was met with acceptance. I stepped out of my comfort zone and spoke from my heart, and I was received with a sense of true belonging.
If wisdom leads you to share, vulnerability is always worth it. If it doesn't turn out well, it's a chance to grow in your true sense of self, regardless of how others may respond. If it's met with love and encouragement, it's an opportunity to feel connected. So even if you're shaking, step out. You never know who may meet you on the ledge to join you in the experience.
** A beautiful song about God meeting us where we're at right now: Times
** A beautiful song about God meeting us where we're at right now: Times
