I spend so much time and thought trying to build a
complete picture of me, my life, and God. To be able to summarize it all in a
few sentences that completely capture the essence and purpose of everything, in
a way that I completely know all there is to know about all of it. And then,
when I know it all, I can fix it all – starting with my own broken self.
And I try to get God to come along with me on this
journey of obtaining control. But he doesn’t give a rip about this
all-consuming purpose of mine – no, he wants to take it away - “Surrender” is
the command. But I have excuses – oh so many. Countless reasons to hold on to
my life the way I want it. Still he doesn’t care because he knows, oh he knows
my heart.
Way deep down, there are parts of myself that I have
hidden so well and so long ago I don’t even know what’s there. All I have is a
faint recollection that I mustn’t ever
let anyone see those things. I had built these walls (pretty good ones, if I do
say so myself) to cover those things up, and I made them look so real that they
just blend in. You would never know they were there.
But God – God knows. He knows I’m hiding. And his voice
calls out to me the same way he called long, long ago to those first broken
people in the garden, the way he calls to each of his children: “Where are you?”
And I don’t even know - Where did I put myself?
Yet he knows,
and I know that he knows, and that he will find me if I let him. Only I’m
scared and I don’t even know why.
Vulnerability is a word that we are using more and more – and for good reason. The word itself seems to knock on your heart’s
door and request entry. Synonyms include susceptible, weak, defenseless,
helpless, exposed, in danger. We know that being vulnerable is a good thing,
but kind of in the same way we know that we shouldn’t eat junk food – who actually
does it besides a few health nuts? And this attitude makes sense – who wants to
feel defenseless or exposed?
A few weeks ago I was on a footbridge and impulsively decided
to climb over the rail to sit on the cement right on the edge of the bridge. It
wasn’t completely irrational because there was this huge thick cable where the
suspension cable swooped down in the middle of the bridge.
By far, the scariest part was going over. In my mind, I
thought briefly that I might die if I slipped or let go too soon or lost my
balance. But I did it anyways, because I figured “Yolo,” and I sat down on the
edge there, with the eight-inch-thick cable right up against my chest and my
arms over it, staring at my feet dangling above the frozen river, hoping I
wouldn’t lose a boot.
As I was sitting there, my mind kept wavering between “This
is so cool!” and “I’m going to die!” even though the suspension cable held me safely.
I kept sitting there because of the wonder of it, despite my fear. It was exhilarating.
This is what vulnerability is like – sitting on the edge,
dangling there, hoping we don’t die, and yet knowing we won’t because of the
cable of God’s love that is holding us there, as safe as we ever were on the
other side of the rail. This is where God is calling us: to climb over the rail
we put up (which is the scariest part of all) and then to sit down and let
ourselves be held by the love of God.
And there, in that place of exposing ourselves to
everything, we find that the only thing we are in danger from is the
all-encompassing love that the Father has for his beloved children, and he
holds everything else at bay.
But. Am I willing to let him find me? To let him love me?
I know he’s good, and yet – do I want him to see the parts of my heart that I
hide?
Does he know my shame? Does he know what I’ve done? Does
he know the hidden things that I don’t even know?
Do I want his healing? Do I want to feel the brokenness I
know is inside? Do I want to feel the pain of it again?
Can I trust him?
And I know - the answers are all Yes.
So I stare at the rail, trying to muster up the courage
to climb. I can’t do it alone.
Knowing this, he calls me to let go of my self-made image
and to open myself to those around me, to let them see the brokenness, the
weakness, the fear that for so long I have buried. He calls me to take the
hands of my brothers and sisters, so that we can journey together over the rail
to expose our sins and wounds before our Father and find the forgiveness and
healing we so desperately need.
Yolo.
