I don’t know why such uncomfortable things come into fashion, like high heels and skinny jeans– and vulnerability.  It seems vulnerability is all the rage right now and to be honest, I find it so uncomfortable.  Talking about it is easy enough.  It’s the part where you actually get vulnerable and bare your heart that can make me uncomfortable. Doesn’t the word itself sound a bit naked?

I’ve always tried to be a little bit real, but not too real.  I was told it’s dangerous to focus on being real because you end up excusing sin in the name of “just being real.”  You know what I mean?

Recently, Hj and I went with our dear friends to this marriage intensive in California.  We were assigned to a table with three other couples for the week.  At each meal, we took turns sharing our spiritual journey, according to how the Spirit led us.  Monday at dinnertime, it was our turn.

We sat around the table at a funky little Mexican restaurant with these three other couples and Hj started sharing as soon as the chips and salsa came.  He had prayed and heard from God what to share and what not to share.  There was nothing on the “not to share” list.  Hj went for it– he shared it all.

The food wasn’t good.  I cried and wept.  (But not so much about the food.)  And I was thinking, “God, is it really necessary to be so very, very open about everything?”  They listened, and asked questions, and told their own stories.  They heaped rich prayers and prophecies on us.

A few hours later, after I had snotted up a big mountain of tissues with my issues, I looked up into the kindest faces I had ever seen.  “I can’t believe I met you guys this morning,” I said.  They knew the worst of us and yet they saw the best in us.  They heard our struggle and they weren’t afraid.  They felt our shame and they didn’t run away.

Brené Brown says in order for connection to happen, we have to allow ourselves to be really seen.  I wonder, why do I fight that?  Why do I cling to facades and “shoulds”?  What makes me fear letting go of expectations and just being truthful?  I’m talking about the little stuff too; the quirks and emotions that make me unique but I feel obligated to hide them because……?  Why?

We fear disconnection, Brené says, which is a simple definition of shame.  We’re ashamed of our true selves.  “If people knew certain things about me, would I still be worthy of connection?”  Hj and I plumbed the depths of that question that Monday night at dinner, and we came back with a resounding YES.  Those couples didn’t cut us off; they showed us that we would always be loved and belong, not because of the good things we have done, but because God the Father said we are worth it.  When He sent Jesus for us, He declared our worth.  If a painting sells for $2,000 it’s because someone saw that worth in it, not because the canvas and the paint actually cost that much.  When Father said He’ll pay for us with Jesus, He made it clear we were worth that much to Him, not because that is what a curator would actually have seen in us.  This is where our deep sense of belonging and worth are born, I believe.  We somehow know we matter, even though we technically don’t.

I like to think about where that resounding YES leads.  If I carry in my heart the truth that no matter what anyone knows or doesn’t know about me, I am still worthy of love and connection, where will that lead me?  I would love to find out.  I imagine it is a place of deep surrender, where there is only truth.  I imagine it leads to fearless connection in relationships, risks and agape love.  I know it leads to deep, deep, deep gratitude that the God of the universe took time to bend down, pick up a grain of sand, and say, “This one’s mine.”

This is where I am on my journey with God, as I am getting to know Him more deeply and He is getting to deeper parts of me.  I pray you are finding Him just as kind on your own journey.