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by Kathy Douglass
It’s an old joke: patient says to the doctor, “Doc, it hurts when I do that.” Doc says to the patient, “well, don’t do that.”
“Don’t do that” makes a lot of sense sometimes. Why would we do what we know might hurt?
Vulnerability, exposure, a keen awareness of need, these aren’t the things we are naturally inclined to give ourselves over to.
This Lenten season, these are the very things I am choosing. In seeking to reflect on Christ’s sufferings and hold a mirror up to my own heart as we experience these days before Holy Week, I considered that my best practice would be to make some allowances… allow for vulnerability, allow for exposure, allow for need.
It’s not that these things aren’t present in my life, in all our lives. They are ever present in a broken and waiting world. But it takes some intentionality to see weakness and frailty with their noses pressed against the glass, and to open the door and say, “ok, you can come in.”
We get awfully skilled at keeping our guard up.
I stood outside Buckingham Palace a few years ago, peering through the iron gates with my touristy binoculars for the lightest twitch, the tiniest breath, the slightest budge from the Palace Guard. My hands and eyes got tired after awhile, and eventually, I walked away. I’ve suspected at times that some fuzzy-hatted soldiers keep watch outside my heart, not twitching, not breathing, not budging. And why would they? They are simply following my orders, to guard my heart, to keep me safe, secure, and out of harm’s way.
As Rev. Jennifer reminded us a few Sundays ago, the Bible tells us not to be afraid so many times because God knows it can be scary out there, He knows that sometimes we do feel afraid.
So, trusting His “knowing”, I am trying to live these Lenten weeks with my guard down, with my sentries dismissed. I am making some allowances:
I am allowing for vulnerability… this came in a difficult conversation with one of my sisters, a talk we both needed, but one that left us both feeling a bit bruised for a few days. Telling the truth, hearing the truth, instead of relying on our mousiest “oh, it’s fine”, or our squeakiest “no worries.” Letting it be okay that everything was not okay.
I am allowing for exposure… I was with a group of people recently, some strangers, some friends, when my large self tangled with a small bench and both of us went crashing to the floor. I wanted to find the nearest door to run through, or at least the nearest rock to crawl under, but instead, I had to allow for a strong hand to help me up, kind eyes to look into mine and scatter the shame that had begun to call me names, I had to allow for gentle voices to assure me that everything was alright.
I am allowing for my need… this came as I rejoined a group of women who can speak truth and hope into a place of weakness for me; a group I had decided I could do without, preferring instead to claw after change and growth without the benefit of community.
These instances could have taken place on any day, in any season. Being ready to welcome them instead of stiff-arm them behind a wall mortared with pride and fear is the difference.
The prophet Jeremiah tells us that God’s mercies are new every morning (Lamentations 3:22-23). I imagine there’s design behind that truth: we are people in need of mercy every day.
What I am experiencing this season is the same truth I experience anytime I let my guard down: Jesus is with me. His sufferings, his own willingness to allow for vulnerability and exposure and need, make Him my true Advocate. As we taste a tiny bit of suffering, we experience that His suffering prepares Him to be with us to repair and comfort, shield, rescue and console. He comes to us at our most exposed, vulnerable and needy, and offers His mercy.
Making allowances can feel a little scary. As the apostle John writes to a group of believers, the love of Christ is a perfect love, a love so perfect it casts out the fear that keeps us from letting our guard down. (I John 4:18)
Perfect Love casts out the fear in me and sends the darkness to hide
Perfect Love tells me that I have found my refuge at His side
Perfect Love will never leave me, He has promised to abide
And be my Strong and Perfect Love
Making allowances… for vulnerability, for exposure, for need. It’s an open invitation to the true Keeper of our hearts.
“Don’t do that” makes a lot of sense sometimes. Why would we do what we know might hurt?
Vulnerability, exposure, a keen awareness of need, these aren’t the things we are naturally inclined to give ourselves over to.
This Lenten season, these are the very things I am choosing. In seeking to reflect on Christ’s sufferings and hold a mirror up to my own heart as we experience these days before Holy Week, I considered that my best practice would be to make some allowances… allow for vulnerability, allow for exposure, allow for need.
It’s not that these things aren’t present in my life, in all our lives. They are ever present in a broken and waiting world. But it takes some intentionality to see weakness and frailty with their noses pressed against the glass, and to open the door and say, “ok, you can come in.”
We get awfully skilled at keeping our guard up.
I stood outside Buckingham Palace a few years ago, peering through the iron gates with my touristy binoculars for the lightest twitch, the tiniest breath, the slightest budge from the Palace Guard. My hands and eyes got tired after awhile, and eventually, I walked away. I’ve suspected at times that some fuzzy-hatted soldiers keep watch outside my heart, not twitching, not breathing, not budging. And why would they? They are simply following my orders, to guard my heart, to keep me safe, secure, and out of harm’s way.
As Rev. Jennifer reminded us a few Sundays ago, the Bible tells us not to be afraid so many times because God knows it can be scary out there, He knows that sometimes we do feel afraid.
So, trusting His “knowing”, I am trying to live these Lenten weeks with my guard down, with my sentries dismissed. I am making some allowances:
I am allowing for vulnerability… this came in a difficult conversation with one of my sisters, a talk we both needed, but one that left us both feeling a bit bruised for a few days. Telling the truth, hearing the truth, instead of relying on our mousiest “oh, it’s fine”, or our squeakiest “no worries.” Letting it be okay that everything was not okay.
I am allowing for exposure… I was with a group of people recently, some strangers, some friends, when my large self tangled with a small bench and both of us went crashing to the floor. I wanted to find the nearest door to run through, or at least the nearest rock to crawl under, but instead, I had to allow for a strong hand to help me up, kind eyes to look into mine and scatter the shame that had begun to call me names, I had to allow for gentle voices to assure me that everything was alright.
I am allowing for my need… this came as I rejoined a group of women who can speak truth and hope into a place of weakness for me; a group I had decided I could do without, preferring instead to claw after change and growth without the benefit of community.
These instances could have taken place on any day, in any season. Being ready to welcome them instead of stiff-arm them behind a wall mortared with pride and fear is the difference.
The prophet Jeremiah tells us that God’s mercies are new every morning (Lamentations 3:22-23). I imagine there’s design behind that truth: we are people in need of mercy every day.
What I am experiencing this season is the same truth I experience anytime I let my guard down: Jesus is with me. His sufferings, his own willingness to allow for vulnerability and exposure and need, make Him my true Advocate. As we taste a tiny bit of suffering, we experience that His suffering prepares Him to be with us to repair and comfort, shield, rescue and console. He comes to us at our most exposed, vulnerable and needy, and offers His mercy.
Making allowances can feel a little scary. As the apostle John writes to a group of believers, the love of Christ is a perfect love, a love so perfect it casts out the fear that keeps us from letting our guard down. (I John 4:18)
Perfect Love casts out the fear in me and sends the darkness to hide
Perfect Love tells me that I have found my refuge at His side
Perfect Love will never leave me, He has promised to abide
And be my Strong and Perfect Love
Making allowances… for vulnerability, for exposure, for need. It’s an open invitation to the true Keeper of our hearts.
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