vulnerability and fear

photo © 2007 Seth de l'Isle (via: Wylio)
I watched this today:  TEDxHouston - Brené Brown.

Brene Brown talks about being vulnerable and believing that we are all worthy of love and belonging, even (and especially) in our imperfection.  I can't summarize it well (it's worth watching on your own), but she explains how in her research she found that it was the people who were willing to be vulnerable who were also the most content and joyful. 

Which kinda sucks.

Because I don't really want to be vulnerable.  Not really, truly vulnerable. 

I want Security.  Knowing.  Constancy. 

But I also want Community, Connection, Love.  And there's the rub.  Those relational things, those most-important things, aren't gotten without vulnerability.  Sucks.  Oh, I know what you're thinking - it's beautiful and wonderful that God made us this way, but wouldn't it be so much EASIER if we didn't have to be vulnerable?  I know, I know, Jesus didn't come to us for an easy life.  Just a full one.  A better one.  A bright one. 

I think I'm a little better at being vulnerable than I used to be.  I'm more likely to speak up for myself, to admit my faults, to be open about my beliefs.  The other day I even admitted out loud (to a completely shocked church member) that I am a liberal (*gasp*), and it didn't worry me at all.  I know this is no big deal to lots of you, but to me, it's huge.  Because growing up in and around church, and relying on churches for our paychecks, has made me very nervous in church.  I know it's not supposed to be that way.  And I know it's as much my own insecurity as it is any real danger in the church.  But I have seen and heard too many stories of church gone bad.  And it makes me afraid.  Or it has.  I'm a little less afraid these days.  A little.  But still, I am afraid. 

Not just about church, but about all kinds of things.  I read this blog post (Fear Not, by Kimberlee Conway Ireton) a couple weeks ago and thought - yep, that's me - always afraid.  I'm afraid that I seem like a dork to other people.  I'm afraid the food I buy will give us cancer.  I'm afraid of issuing invitations and being rejected.  I'm afraid that I can never think of the right words to say (not out loud, anyway).  I'm afraid that I am not a good friend and that making friends is so freakin' hard for me.  I'm afraid that my heart miracle was my one "get out of jail" card and the next time (soon) I'll be hit by a truck or die of some horrible disease.  I'm afraid that something tragic will happen to my husband or kids.  I'm afraid that we'll never have money for retirement and will saddle our kids with all kinds of debt because we can't help them with school.  I'm afraid I'll pass on my insecurity to my kids.  I'm afraid I'll make the wrong decision about what the next step should be.  I'm afraid I'll never have a church home that really feels like home.  I'm afraid my husband will get fired because he's braver than me.  I'm afraid I'll waste my life being afraid.

What a waste, right?  Fear Not - that's apparently the most often repeated command in Scripture.  Who knew?  Not me.  But it's one I need to hear over and over and over. 

So during this Advent season, when we remember the Angels who say over and over "Fear Not," I will try to be a little more vulnerable, and a little less afraid.