I don’t think there are two words that make me cringe more than trust and vulnerability—and these words go hand in hand and make hope possible.
As I sat here trying to figure out what to write for this week’s post, the idea of “trust” kept circling in my mind, but I kept batting it away. I struggle with trust. Boy, do I struggle with trust… It’s something I’ve been working on with my counselor since we started weekly sessions in January, and it’s something I journal about with God daily.
I was talking to my counselor last week, and he asked me how I learn to trust other people. I told him that I tend to trust people right away. If they betray that trust, it’s broken and I basically cut them out of my life. I forgive them, because that’s what I’m called to do as a Christian, but I don’t give them my trust again.
As I’ve reflected on what I told him, that I tend to trust other people right away, I’ve realized that it was a big fat lie. Oh, not entirely. I do trust them. With the most shallow and unimportant parts of myself. With the parts that don’t really matter.
But do I actually trust them? Like, for real? Bones deep, with the good, the bad, and the ugly? Absolutely not.
And why not?
Because that requires being vulnerable. And I don’t like to even be vulnerable with myself. I don’t like admitting my weaknesses and my struggles. I don’t like letting people see when I’m doubting myself or when I’m wrong. I’ve always been the person that people can depend on; the one they can trust to keep things together.
Who am I if they (and I) don’t see me as strong?
A few weeks ago, we started a course at church on Sunday evenings called Practicing the Way.
Throughout the course, we take an honest look at our spiritual health. We reflect on every aspect of our current circumstances as well as our past. We confront our inner selves and talk about our reflections as a group.
I could’ve gone one of two ways. I could have kept everything surface level as I’ve tried to do for years, keeping everyone at arm’s length and trying to keep the façade of the strong one who can do things on her own. OR I could take the opportunity to dig deep and step into the practices.
Before this course started, I had realized that I was struggling. I knew my heart wasn’t as soft as it used to be. I was becoming bitter and resentful. I had been praying for weeks that God would give me an opportunity to turn my “heart of stone” into a “heart of flesh” (Ezekiel 36:26).
So there I sat at the precipice. The choice was mine. Would I be vulnerable and give trust to a group of people from my church or would I continue to give them the Surface Brittany?
I can’t say it’s been easy. It’s only been a few weeks. But I chose to be vulnerable.
I still have that check in my heart before I share each time. The one that says, “Are you sure you want to share this with THEM?” And then I look around at those sitting with me and I see the care and compassion in their eyes and I realize that I do.
I’m not saying you need to be vulnerable and trust everyone you meet. Far from it. But there is a time and a place for it.
Maybe you can be tentative with your trust, trusting in the small things and building up to the bigger things.
For me, being able to be vulnerable during this course is allowing me to see hope for the future. I can feel my heart softening more each day. Not taking me back to who I used to be… but taking me toward who I’m supposed to be.
It’s a process. It takes time. But in the end, I know it’ll be worth it. The friendships I’m forming in this course are going to grow and last, and I can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings.
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P.S. (added after recording production, my apologies) Next week I’ll talk a bit about how I DO trust some people with the deep parts of me—I realized right before this goes out that I make it sound like I trust absolutely no one with the real me, and that isn’t true. It’s just a long process. 🙃
Brittany Stonestreet 