What does it take to be vulnerable?

Vulnerability emerges when fear recedes. When there isn’t a fear of reaction, backlash, shut down, or retaliation, it becomes psychologically safe for a person to speak or act. While that phrase, psychological safety, is generally written about in terms of the workplace, it can apply to other groups, as well, when we’re exploring how to cultivate an environment where people can operate in harmony and aren’t afraid to talk to another or perform a duty.

Vulnerability can come in a few ways. One of them is the weak spot in your armor or defenses that an enemy looks to exploit. Another is the admission of weakness for the benefit of others. In this issue, I’m coming from the angle of the latter, so let me ask…

Do others feel safe enough to be vulnerable with you? Can they give you their real self or do they have to give their edited self? Can they approach you to talk about something they feel in important to talk about?

The levels of vulnerability can vary, like… think of one of those images of an iceberg. We see what’s floating above the surface, and then there’s a whole lot of iceberg beneath the surface we can’t see.

Below the surface is the dwelling place for the deep waters of the heart: hopes, confessions, fears, desires, beliefs. Many of those remain unspoken, and such founts only come forth with understanding.

The Merriam-Webster definition of understanding provides insights that it is 1) a mental grasp, 2) the power of comprehending, and 3) a friendly or harmonious relationship.

With understanding, there’s a back and forth. There’s more clarifing questions and less jumping to conclusions. Deep, relational understanding brings with it a desire to know and be known. How difficult will it be to understand another person without the attempt to mentally grasp where they stand, without trying to comprehend what they have to say? Offenses block that seeing. Not everyone wants understanding, either. There’s no harmony without two sides.

Let me ask you this: do you make a conscious attempt to be in harmony with others? I’m not talking about people pleasing or losing your voice. There can be no harmony when your notes cease to sing for the sake of the pressure of the other. You also cannot force another into harmony, and if you badger them you risk widening the gap. It takes two to be in harmony.

I’m not going to sit here and pretend that I’m the lighthouse of harmony who will guide everyone else away from the rocks. I’ve lit my fair share of powder kegs that have burnt the ships of psychological safety. In workspeak, we’d call that being unapproachable (That feels like it calls for a chuckle). However, part of my own journey has been realizing that in order for harmony, understanding, vulnerability, and a genuine “ready to move forward, together!” posture to occur, there has to be safety for both parties to do that. Safety to speak, safety to leave, and safety to return after they’ve pushed away. Safe harbors are needed to welcome both parties.

Think back to last week’s journal entry on shame. In order for the one who feels shame to come out of it, the fear of disconnection has to be safely dispelled. “You are on the outside, rightfully so, but I’m extending you the invitation back in. It’s OK to leave your shame behind.”

Let's say someone does make the decision to be brave and trust you with something that is below the surface, what do you do with that gift? When someone brings their fears, their guilt, their shame, their weakness, their dream, their idea, their questions, their doubts, their dirtiness, or their confession, how do you respond to the deep waters of their heart? Especially if they’re trying to lay an ax to the root instead of get affirmation for it.

I’m not asking that in order to provoke a sense of guilt. I want you to really think about it. I’ve had to. I don’t know what that dance of harmony has looked like in whatever situation you’re thinking about, but if you want to evaluate how you responded, ask yourself this: did the other person continue to express their vulnerabilities or did they withdraw them?

A word of caution: it’d be easy to misinterpret here. Silence is a vacuum that can be filled with all kinds of meaning. Don’t fill in the gaps. You can only know what you know. None of us can read minds nor have perfect perception. The story inbetween the lines may not be true. The narrative written in the empty space can create a more bombastic hostility and distance than the original separation. The utmost care is required to renew your mind (Romans 12:2) and not let it be trained in neural pathways which are hostile to self or others.

It’s a process.

Some of this process towards safety and then harmony may require a blank slate or an awkward conversation. Sure, you can get your pound of flesh. You can choke the other until they’ve paid what they owe. It’s not like they don’t deserve that. They do. You can also care more about the relationship than the offense. I’m not saying conversations don’t have to happen. Refusing to communicate and calling it drama is an act of creating drama. If communication breaks down, it’s possible both sides think the other is the offending party. Those talks may lead to rejection or silence or the other not knowing what to do with what you just said to them, either. The situation may require leadership where love and care for the person, or duty, requires overriding fears to address the elephant in the room.

It is the glory of kings to search things out (Proverbs‬ ‭25‬:‭2‬).

If you’re in a place of anger or frustration, relational disconnection, evaluate what you want, and further what God wants, from that relationship. What’s worth sacrificing the other for: the offense or the relationship?

Lord knows I haven’t lived that well.

It’s also true that you can only do what you can do.

Once I’ve blown up, I really have no reasonable expectation to be welcomed back in. It’s absolutely my place to apologize, but I cannot work my way back into reconciliation. I’ve come to a place of realizing some wounds may not heal, and I’m certainly not the Healer.

In the movies, when a character is offended, the extreme end of their emotional spectrum is a physical outpouring of vengeance, and that rarely leaves the offended satisfied. The hole in their heart doesn’t suddenly become filled.

The grace of God is the only way what was broken can be made whole again. Whether the offender or the offended, giving it to the Lord is the only way to be set free. That’s a perfect love that drives out fear (‭‭1 John‬ ‭4‬:‭18‬‬‬). With the fear of punishment driven out, one can finally get some traction in the relationship. It starts with forgiveness, first for ourselves vertically with God and then, in an overflow from that forgiveness, horizontally outwards towards each other.

Forgiveness isn’t fair. It’s not just letting someone off the hook; it’s taking on the hook yourself. The offended has to absorb the pain of the offense. The offender has to let go of their guilt of offending. Neither can wallow.

This is all well and good in theory, but when the hurt actually happens and the hook actually sets, the difficulty ratchets way up.

I’ve been a king over anger. I’ve been a pawn under anger. Who among can say we’ve only been one or the other?

Those are hard questions for kings and pawns. Stories of queens and children can help us along the way, which I’ll get into next issue.

Wishing you well,

~ J.P. Simons