To write is to be vulnerable and I am not liking it. The vulnerability part, that is.
This space here, this somewhere in the middle, has been an act of obedience to a still, small voice and it has been a slow, persistent chisel against my protective armor. Armor that I let down with a few, but recently have been asked to lay down more often. I have been asked if I’d be willing to wear my heart on the page, my heart that’s been taken from the sleeves of my journals because what is written there may bless.
Vulnerability invites risk.
Yet, what if in giving away words, words that may bring healing or comfort or hope or courage my vulnerability, my weakness actually brings life?
…these things we write, so that our joy may be made complete, wrote a man named John …a man who saw, who heard, whose very hands handled the Word of Life….Jesus.
Imagine the handling of such a thing.
John was compelled to write, to bare it all, so we could have fellowship with him and in so doing we would get to have fellowship with Jesus because this is the only thing John is writing about. Jesus Jesus Jesus.
The vulnerability and the real-ness of the gospels is what makes them so compelling, so attractive and yet…
There are others who were compelled to spill words all over everything.
David, poeting and lamenting all of his deficiencies, his shortcomings, his sinnings, all through the psalms.
Paul, the chief proclaimer, the chief sinner, chief letter writer.
Glory. Jesus’ glory.
I have the blood of bootstrap pullers and uphill scrappers fighting their way to justice with their fists running through my veins.
In Jesus there is life that comes out of the walls.
But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all surpassing power is from God and not from us.
There is a scene in the movie Braveheart where the character, William Wallace, on his way to engage the English, tells his friends to “Be yourselves.”
This scene makes me cry.
In the midst of impending war and the very real threat of death, Wallace is essentially telling his friends, Don’t fake it. Just be who you are, who you were created to be and while you’re at….do the right thing.
End tyranny. Seek justice. Love mercy. Cry freedom.
To write is who I am because in the writing are all the tears, all the laughters, all the missteps, all the failures, all the learnings, all the disoverings and all of them together is grace spilling spilling spilling on the pages.
Perhaps the light of God’s glory will come through the clay.