Obviously when people are vulnerable, what you see isn't always pretty. Actually usually it's very nasty and gruesome.
There's a lot of pain whether it's in the past or the present. If the pain is present, it is a wound. Wounds may be intriguing sometimes but are usually ugly.
If that pain was in the past, there is now some scar tissue. Sometimes scar tissue is a good thing, like when it physically comes and takes the place of a wound. Usually when scar tissue is more emotional and symbolic though, it isn't such a good thing except that it means the absence of the wound. It's still very messy.
Being vulnerable is something that takes a lot of bravery because the one being vulnerable knows deep down that what is there isn't pretty whether that's wounds or scars. I want to write tonight about the beauty of vulnerability itself.
There is something to be respected about vulnerability that I don't think one grasps until they either are vulnerable themselves (and understand how much bravery it takes) or see someone else's vulnerability first hand (and understand how much bravery it takes). The whole system seems to be a little like a cause and effect.
It is beautiful because it deserves respect. It deserves respect because it takes bravery. It takes bravery because they know it's ugly.
I realized today that I forgot the aesthetic of vulnerability until I saw it and the effect that it has on community between people.
We live our lives like we're fine and thanks to Jesus Christ, there is the opportunity for us to really be fine. My point is that before we were fine though, every person I know has some pain that they have come from before they finally turned to the arms of Jesus (if they have done that yet). Maybe the duration of the pain was short for some but I know that for others, it felt (or feels) like it lasts for ever. Opening up about the pain makes you vulnerable because people can take your pain and try to use it against you but the beauty in vulnerability is that when you trust someone with your pain, there becomes a new sort of depth to your relationship and to who you are as a person.
As I was laying on my bed praying last night in a half-asleep state, this idea dawned on me. There is none more beautiful than the Real Thing. Fake rots away. Masks fall off. Pretending gets old. But the real thing, and I mean the most real thing (the eternal God), will never rot, fall off or get old. And when He is on the inside, even our most gross wounds are worth being vulnerable about because He is our Healer. And when we show people our real selves, our former dirty, sinful, painful selves that have been healed and replaced by Jesus, there aren't many things that are more beautiful than that.
This is why I appreciate the beauty of vulnerability so much. It says "I am imperfect." and that makes room for God to do what He died to do- make people whole.
There's a lot of pain whether it's in the past or the present. If the pain is present, it is a wound. Wounds may be intriguing sometimes but are usually ugly.
If that pain was in the past, there is now some scar tissue. Sometimes scar tissue is a good thing, like when it physically comes and takes the place of a wound. Usually when scar tissue is more emotional and symbolic though, it isn't such a good thing except that it means the absence of the wound. It's still very messy.
Being vulnerable is something that takes a lot of bravery because the one being vulnerable knows deep down that what is there isn't pretty whether that's wounds or scars. I want to write tonight about the beauty of vulnerability itself.
There is something to be respected about vulnerability that I don't think one grasps until they either are vulnerable themselves (and understand how much bravery it takes) or see someone else's vulnerability first hand (and understand how much bravery it takes). The whole system seems to be a little like a cause and effect.
It is beautiful because it deserves respect. It deserves respect because it takes bravery. It takes bravery because they know it's ugly.
I realized today that I forgot the aesthetic of vulnerability until I saw it and the effect that it has on community between people.
We live our lives like we're fine and thanks to Jesus Christ, there is the opportunity for us to really be fine. My point is that before we were fine though, every person I know has some pain that they have come from before they finally turned to the arms of Jesus (if they have done that yet). Maybe the duration of the pain was short for some but I know that for others, it felt (or feels) like it lasts for ever. Opening up about the pain makes you vulnerable because people can take your pain and try to use it against you but the beauty in vulnerability is that when you trust someone with your pain, there becomes a new sort of depth to your relationship and to who you are as a person.
As I was laying on my bed praying last night in a half-asleep state, this idea dawned on me. There is none more beautiful than the Real Thing. Fake rots away. Masks fall off. Pretending gets old. But the real thing, and I mean the most real thing (the eternal God), will never rot, fall off or get old. And when He is on the inside, even our most gross wounds are worth being vulnerable about because He is our Healer. And when we show people our real selves, our former dirty, sinful, painful selves that have been healed and replaced by Jesus, there aren't many things that are more beautiful than that.
This is why I appreciate the beauty of vulnerability so much. It says "I am imperfect." and that makes room for God to do what He died to do- make people whole.