the immeasurable value in vulnerability, and how we see it later.

from time to time i have the privilege of chatting with a very fantastic woman who does not know how much she has changed my life first by just being, and second by engaging in these conversations with me. i do not recall exactly when this one took place, but i was reminded tonight of a discussion we had about vulnerability.

i do not care for being vulnerable. i can tolerate it in small doses. i cannot, however, find it in myself to appreciate it or see its value when it hits unexpectedly, in the moment that it hits. moments of extreme vulnerability have happened throughout my life, and most specifically since the age of 16, without my consent, because apparently it does not require my consent to happen. the nerve.

i have spent a great deal of time thinking about the unfairness of its various sources, loathing myself for being weak enough to allow it to happen, and viewing it as a complete sign of being inferior in life. inferior to what? to nothing but my expectation for myself. for anyone else i'd see it as healthy, or needed, or would point out the benefits. yet time and time again i find it in myself to hold me to another standard, not because i find myself worthy of it, but really the opposite. i find myself very unworthy of a lot of things, and therefore seem to try and set my goals to a standard above what i hold for others, so as not to let my unworthiness stand in the way.

enter moments of vulnerability, and how this all relates to the discussion i referred to in my first paragraph.

i was presented by my mentor, and friend, with the idea that vulnerability was an essential piece to our human existence as followers of Jesus, if that is what we are choosing to be. it is one of the best reminders of our humaness, and therefore also of our ungodness. those are not words. but you get the idea. it's a reality check. at least it is for me.

without moments where i've had to be vulnerable - when i've had to say "i'm not quite good enough for that", or "i need to ask for your help", or "i have to say i'm sorry for what i've done", or "i was wrong, i was wrong, i was wrong" - where would my need for God be? it'd be there, but i'd have a hard time seeing it with my ego in the way.

there are just some things i cannot do.

believe it or not, this is a hard lesson for me to learn. i am still learning it. i am a proud, proud person. i do not like to be helped if i have not asked. i like to solve problems. i like to be good at things, and i like to stand out. none of these things are bad - but when they take my focus away from my inherent need for God in my life, they become dangerous, venomous, and destructive. i do not wish to make God sound like a crutch - i have heard many people make that analogy when they talk about people who follow Jesus. that is not my intent. because i think that if i didn't think there was a God, that i would still think of myself as really rather flawed. and so because i DO think there is a God, it does not make sense for me to think that me as a flawed person could make better decisions than he could.

sometimes my flaws make me feel downright broken. i can think of a few moments where i've been so sad, so torn apart inside, that all i could do was curl up on the floor and sob so hard. it hurt a lot. there have been some things in life that have made me feel like i could never be okay again. and it's in moments like that, when i know there is nothing that i myself could do to help me, that it is clearest why i need God. and i need him just as much at any other moment of any other day. but it is in night, not day, that we will notice a light around us the most.

this is what i re-learned today. it's a painful lesson. and i very much doubt that i am done learning it. but i am happy to sit back, to think, and to feel peace. because as much as i fight so hard to hold on to control, i've never felt so much peace as when i let it go.