I have been thinking a lot about vulnerability recently. It’s a dear friend I do my best to be consistent with. But I find myself failing vulnerability in the late.
You never had a lover,
but if you ever did, would they ever break your heart?
Are you strong enough to recover,
or would you just forgive?
Or maybe you would fall apart,
and cover up your scars?
The idea of covering up our scars goes hand in hand with my desire to escape vulnerability. As much as I do it, each new time encountering vulnerability is still as painful and heart-wrenching as the last time. Yes, we were created to love, but to give all your heart — raw, bleeding, and exposed IS open heart surgery is: messy – sloppy – an enduring task.
This morning I was convicted. Who am I to desire covering up my scars if the Lord I claim to pursue with all my heart never covered up His scars? The scars are ugly and not pretty to look at, but without them I would not be fully who I was created to be. My light does not pierce as fiercely through the darkness as hope and joy and light if I was not a little bit scarred up. So I leave you with this thought from a favorite author:
When we were children, we used to think that when we were grown-up we would no longer be vulnerable. But to grow up is to accept vulnerability… To be alive is to be vulnerable.