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We may find it easy to be vulnerable, but it’s much harder to let others see us broken.

Still in the middle of an intense learning curve.  I feel like I’m coming down the steep side of a roller coaster.  It’s exciting, but at the same time I feel my heart may fly out of my chest, I can’t enjoy the scenery and I think my body is being bruised by the G-force.  Still, hands in the air and smile because you never know where the camera is!  Forgive me, if ocassionally this blog gets thrown from the ride… I’ll pick it back up.

Grappling right now with the difference between brokenness and vulnerability.  I had a really intense discussion with someone Sunday night, and it has just spurred a lot of introspection and therefore, pain.  The past 48 hours have been difficult because it’s hard to balance the get-a-pay-check-feed-the-family-life and the spiritual-this-is-a-big-deal-that-I-need-time-to-process life.  They do not mesh well at all, but one thing that struck me this morning was this idea of vulnerability.

During this discussion on Sunday, I was told I am afraid of being vulnerable.  That isn’t true.  I count my vulnerability as one of the key aspects of this ministry.  I am transparent, honest, real.  It puts me in a vulnerable place to post my struggles for the entire world to see. 

I have no problem being vulnerable.  Vulnerability is something in my control.  Brokenness, on the other hand, is completely out of my control.

I think, oftentimes, in our accountability settings, if we have one at all, we are experts at being vulnerable.  When we are vulnerable, we control how much information is shared.  We operate the curtains, we hold the remote and we only divulge information on a need to know basis.  It can still be very sensitive information, therefore putting us in a vulnerable state, but, very rarely is vulnerability the whole truth.  It’s truth, just the part we want people to see.  It’s our way of still being in control without lying.

Brokenness, however, is a complete lack of control.  We don’t control the curtain because there isn’t one.  We don’t hold the remote because there isn’t one to hold.  All there is is the truth, in all of its awe and gore- the truth, raw, pumping and bleeding.  Brokenness.

I am struggling to make that jump.  To tear down that curtain completely and just allow me to be broken.  I’m an expert at being vulnerable.  I do it all the time, but broken??  I don’t even know if I am completely broken with God.  Do I just rip away the blinds and say, “OK, here’s the reality, here’s the truth” or do I pray the prayers I am supposed to pray because I know I am supposed to pray them and spout off the Christian rhetoric because I know I am supposed to spout it. 

It’s hard to step back and look at shattered pieces of what was once so beautiful and try to not fix it ourselves. 

“No, God! I got this.  Just stand there.  Hang on! I’ll be right out!  Do you have any superglue. No!!  Don’t look, there’s just a little crack I need to fix real quick.  I’ll be right there.  Please don’t leave.  I promise, I’ll be right there.  No, everything’s fine, really!”

But, as many of us know, we just can’t fix ourselves.  On top of that, people can’t help us fix what they don’t know is broken.  For me, right now, my brokenness is stemming from the fact that I still search for the approval of people.  I will work myself crazy just so I can feel like I am needed, like I am appreciated.  That’s how I am still guilty of looking at love.  I tell people I used to look at love that way {vulnerability} and my head and heart both know that isn’t true love, both know that that isn’t grace, but it doesn’t change the fact that I still act like I have to earn love {brokenness}. 

So how about you?  In what areas are you guilty of using vulnerability to mask brokenness?