Vulnerability is a good thing.
It’s great actually.
It was something that I thought I was good at until I did the World Race 2 years ago. Turns out what I was actually good at was being transparent rather than being vulnerable. If someone were to ask me what the difference was, back then, I would have said that they are the same thing. On the surface they look very similar but they are very much different.
Imagine a glass case with one opening that is latched shut and pad locked for good measure. There is a single spot light shining from above the case and surrounding this is some red velvet rope to keep a safe distance from anyone or anything that might get too close. Now I want you to imagine that inside this case is your darkest secret. The Part of yourself that you don’t want anyone know about, much less, see. I’m getting anxious thinking about it. This is what transparency looks like. It’s on display and everyone can see it but no one can touch it. It’s still protected and safe. Even from Papa. When it’s seen from a distance you can downplay what it is, how heavy it is, how long its been there, that it’s not that big of a deal, or that it used to be a problem but now it’s under control. We expose this ugly, dark, fragile piece of ourselves and say “good enough…” But just because it’s exposed doesn’t mean that it’s gone. It still gives shame a foothold and it will continue to have power over us even after we have shined a light on it.
Vulnerability does the one thing shame tells us we can’t do. It invites people in. It invites people past the velvet rope, around to the latched door, opens the case, and places the part of ourselves that we want to protect most into their hands. This allows them see it for what it is up close with no filter. Vulnerability not only shines light but it calls out shame by its name and removes the power it held in secret. It is shame’s worst enemy.
When Papa started showing me this I realized just how transparent I had been my whole life thinking I was being vulnerable. I would share certain things that, deep down, were very difficult for me and then tell people it was okay…that I was fine. But I wasn’t. I would share things but still feel all alone. Like I was the only one in the whole world who was feeling the way I felt. Who was struggling the way that I was struggling. Hopeless, empty, and lost I wondered if any of it would ever go away. If I would ever stop feeling this way. If I would ever stop struggling. Then it hit me. The reason that I felt so isolated was because I was the one who had been keeping people out the whole time.
You see, I had built a certain reputation among my family and friends. I was a worship leader for my youth group and my church, I was a youth leader that went on all the trips and retreats, I was a servant in the church and in the community. People had a certain idea of who I was and shame drove me to protect it at any cost. If anyone ever found out about what I was hiding they would think less of me than I already thought of myself. I gained a sense of pride that covered up the shame of the burden I carried and it caused me to believe I needed to carry it alone. Because I was only willing to be semi transparent(sometimes) my sin was allowed to take ownership over my life and I became slave to it. That if I didn’t do what it wanted it was going to tell everyone I love what an awful person I was and everyone would know the awful things I have done. Forever ruining the image that I was working so hard to maintain. I thought that no one would ever be able to look at me again if they found out.
In 2015, The World Race introduced me to true vulnerability. I found myself in a community of people who were not only exposing their sin but they were inviting others into the process with them. I watched as people broke family curses and habits that had plagued them and their families for years. All because they refused to let shame control of their lives. They chose to trust the community that Papa had given them and they risked shame, judgement, condemnation, and isolation. Every time someone stepped out they were met by truth, love, and grace and a saw freedom like I had never seen. Since then, I have wanted nothing less than complete freedom from this unbearable weight I carried for far too long.
I will tell you all about that in my next blog. Thanks for reading.
Peace and blessings.
