Honesty. Transparency. Vulnerability. A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have known there was a difference. I’d probably even use those words interchangeably. But a dear friend explained something to me that changed the way that I viewed them.
She used the analogy of a house. I am honest about that house when I tell you that the paint is chipping off a little, there are some missing tiles on the roof, and there’s a hole in the pantry wall. Now you know about these things, which are true. But that is only me being honest.
I am transparent when I bring you across the street from my house and I point to it, saying, “That’s my house. If you squint you can make out the missing tiles and the paint chips.” I am showing you the things I was honest about, but from a distance. I’m not inviting you in.
But I am vulnerable when I ask you inside. There’s no need to squint to see the flaws of my house because you’re right there. You can stick your hand inside the hole in my pantry wall yourself. That is what it is to be vulnerable.
And all of that is well and good until we remember that this is just an analogy for real thoughts, emotions, and hurts. If the hole in the pantry is really a hole in my heart, it will be more than a little painful to invite someone into that place. But that’s what vulnerability is. It’s not real vulnerability unless it hurts a little. I can be honest about my struggles, or transparent even, all day without batting an eye. But vulnerability is a whole new level. There’s risk.
But the reality is, we all need people in our lives with whom we can be vulnerable. We need people who can check up on us in the closets of our hearts. People who can sit with us in the dark without saying a word. But they can’t fully be present with us if they are sitting on the opposite side of the street. Jesus had his 12 but he also had his 3. The few he could be vulnerable with. There are many people to be honest with. A handful to be transparent with. And only a few to be vulnerable. Because vulnerability is sacred. We can’t just throw it to the wind.
We stress vulnerability a lot in the church, but I don’t think we always know what we are saying when we ask people to be vulnerable with us. Sometimes I think we talk about it like vulnerability is a right, as thought we should all be bare and vulnerable with anyone who asks it of us. But, at the end of the day, I don’t deserve to know anybody’s story. I have no claim to see the inside of someone else’s house. It’s not mine. And I should never ever break and enter it. All I can do is be available should I ever be invited.
This whole analogy made me stop and look at my own life. Who are the few that I am being vulnerable with? Am I really being vulnerable or am I only transparent? Only honest? Do I tend to force vulnerability out of people? Or am I patiently waiting for the privilege?
Food for thought.
