The Great Unpack: 1- A Vulnerable People

Weekends can mean a lot of things for me.  Although the proportions vary, my weekend staples usually consist of food, sleep, friends, relaxation, church, and an array of other activities as long as they don't utilize too much brain power.  Needless to say, this weekend was different.  Although a few of the usual weekend staples made an appearance, a few more were thrown in the mix- challenging conversations, heart-checks, and mind-blowing insights to name a few.  I was blessed to spend this weekend at The Idea Camp- a collaborative, honest conversation about orphan care, God's heart for it, and the role we have been asked to play in the process.  I showed up to the conversation not knowing what to expect, and left with a (figurative) suitcase full of exceeded expectations and gargantuan contemplations to unpack.

I wish I could implant a chip into your brain containing every detail of my weekend adventure, because my words simply cannot paint a vibrant enough picture to explicate what I have experienced and am still experiencing.  But because words are what I have (and sometimes I have way too many), I am going to grab the zipper, flip open the lid, and slowly begin the great unpack...

Vulnerability.  Even just typing the word increases my heartbeat just a little bit.  In fact, I am going to be vulnerable right now and tell you that I generally dislike being vulnerable.  In Christian circles, it seems that to be 'vulnerable' has become synonymous with sharing one's deepest heartaches and struggles with another.  In this scenario, the one who shares such things would be delineated as the one practicing vulnerability. But what about his friend, the listener?  Must he too be vulnerable to enter into such a conversation?  Maybe, maybe not.  Our first speaker at The Idea Camp, Tom Davis, wasn't reluctant to share his musings on the topic.  And as I sat in my seat wrestling with the anxious heart within me at the thought of bearing my soul to the others in the room, I realized something. (Which, of course, inevitably led to a few other somethings.)

Something #1: Vulnerability is ultimately about pain.  To be vulnerable is defined as "being capable of being physically or emotionally wounded or hurt." Wow.  No wonder we don't like vulnerability. In the scenario mentioned above where one vulnerable friend shares his heartache and struggles with another, I believe the 'listening' friend, the one on the 'helping' side of the conversation, has a choice.  1- He can choose to match his friend's level of vulnerability and so choose to enter into the pain of his comrade and risk physical or emotional wounding... or, 2- he can choose to remain guarded- protected and safe in isolation.

Something #2: When we find ourselves on the 'helping' side of the conversation, we should always choose option #1 mentioned above.  Why? Because when we feel pain, we respond.  This is an undeniable reality...a natural reaction to an uncomfortable catalyst.  When we have a headache, we take Advil.  When we sprain an ankle, we ice it.  When we break a bone, we cast it.  On the other hand, if my sister breaks her wrist, am I likely to respond to her pain by going to the doctor with her to get my wrist casted as well?  Probably not, because I have not felt pain enough to necessitate a response.  In the same way, I am unlikely to respond to a friend's heartache unless I feel it too.  But this is exactly what vulnerability invites us to do.  Through vulnerability, we have the opportunity to allow ourselves the capability of experiencing the pain of another, thereby making their pain, our pain.  If we choose vulnerability and allow ourselves the capability of being wounded or hurt...if we choose to make the pain of another our own, then we will be moved to action.  It would then become impossible for us to remain inactive and continue to writhe in our pain.  In the case of orphan care (as well as others), we must choose to be vulnerable.  We must choose to allow ourselves to step into the stories of the 143 million orphan children across the world...for it is when we enter into their stories and experience their heartache first-hand that we cannot help but be moved to action.

Something #3: In order for us to get to the point where we are willing to make the decision to enter into the pain of others, we must become vulnerable to Scripture.  Why?  Because our human nature is to avoid pain and seek comfort at all costs, thereby inherently reducing any desire for vulnerability. We must be willing to be moved.  We must be willing to enter into the weight of Scripture and allow it to direct our paths.  In the case of orphan care, we must understand our precious redemption and our own adoption as a child of God (1 John 3:1).  We must learn about the heart of God and His incredible love for His children...and we must allow our hearts to become God's heart.  When our hearts our aligned with His through vulnerability to Scripture, our hearts will begin to desire the rescue of His children as well. And when this is the desire of our hearts...and we know that pain precedes response...our desire will be to vulnerably enter into the lives of others.

So as I sit here tonight as a girl who often chooses safety and isolation, I am dumbfounded.  I am dumbfounded, and I am excited.  Excited to pursue a life of vulnerability and brokenness, desperation and hope.  Excited to enter into the stories of others and to walk alongside them in this journey.  Excited, because my God is big...and because He chose to become vulnerable and enter into my pain and brokenness, so that healing and redemption may follow.  And that, my friends, is something to get excited about...

Name Check

Tonight I am fighting earnestly against the idea to change the name of my blog.  Because tonight I realize that there isn't just maybe more to this than we think. There is no maybe about it.  The "more" there is to this whole thing we call life is incredibly bigger, greater, and more magnificent than we could ever imagine.  So much more than we think.  In fact, I believe this "more" is actually the foundation, the baseline, and the purpose of all of this....and the life we now live, the "this" in which we are currently entrenched, is the extra part.  And I feel like suddenly...out of nowhere and everywhere at the same time, all of this "more than we think" is jumping out from behind bushes and trees and flagpoles and is dancing in front of my face.

So what is this "more than we think"? I'm still figuring it out, but as I watch each dance closely I learn a little bit more.  Tonight at church we talked about home.  Not the brick and mortar structure that we currently inhabit and use as shelter, but our forever home with our forever Father- heaven. We talked about the actuality of heaven being a tangible place.  The hope that comes from knowing that life extends beyond our physical life on earth- for us and for those we love who love Christ.  And the joy of knowing that we can experience a small taste of home here on earth as we worship our Father in Heaven.

Tears filled my eyes as I thought of my friends who are currently worshipping in heaven...and as I expressed the pain and anxiety that currently consumes various corners of my heart.  I can not wait to be home and for this pain and anxiety to be gone.  Because one day this pain will be gone.  All of my hurts, frustrations, and hang-ups will fade into the glory of Christ as I am united with Him in my forever home.  And all of your hurts...frustrations...and hang-ups will fade into His glory too.  This is hard to remember sometimes as so often I feel as though I am sinking in a giant pool of affliction, gasping for my last breath.  But we should never lose hope.... 2 Corinthians 4:17-18 reminds us that the light and momentary troubles of today are achieving for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison.  And so we must focus not on what is seen but on what is unseen- for what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.  It is this "unseen", my friends, that I believe is a large part of the "more than we think." I'm still processing this.  And I think there is much more to this "more than we think" than I know yet.  Gospel and Community and Love and Mission are words that I cannot seem to dismiss from thought and that I can't help but believe must play a bigger role in my life.  But tonight I am mostly thankful for home.  And although I choose to cling to the truth that God isn't through with me yet here in my current, temporary home, I can't wait to get there.  For all of us to get there.  And be a part of this "more than we think."