Hello dear reader! It’s been a bit since our last post, but never fear, we are most definitely still here!
If I may “be vulnerable” for a moment, fall has gotten very busy in the Booth home. Liv is teaching all the kids’ school, plus running the choir, and I’ve taken a part-time position as a “dadvocate” at the local pregnancy center to help pay the bills. So it’s been difficult to take the time we need to write at the pace we desire. Our original goal was to have drafts for every chapter written by November and begin the editing process immediately.
That’s clearly not going to happen. So, we’re being compassionate and realistic with ourselves and pushing our deadline back to late winter or early spring, with a goal of publishing in the fall of next year.
Thank you for your understanding! And to say “thank you,” we’ve published this entire chapter free for all readers!
My family loves watching reality survival shows. One of our favorites is “ALONE.” There are no camera crews, no gimmicks, just individual men and women dropped off in extremely remote places and left to survive with limited gear. It’s a competition of who can last the longest. The last person standing wins an absurd amount of money. The longest survivor to date? One hundred days.
No matter how skilled the survivalist, they all give up eventually. The one thing that gets them all is in the name of the show. They are alone. They either can’t feed themselves sufficiently, or the emotional strain of being alone is too much.
We are vulnerable by nature. It's part of what it means to have a physical body. We can be hurt; we depend on things and people outside of us to live. We are limited. We are mortal.
Sometimes it feels like it would be better if we weren't vulnerable, but to cease to be vulnerable would mean to stop being human. We can't do that without destroying ourselves.
We all need other people we can trust. We need secure relationships where we can be vulnerable, physically and emotionally. We need to be able to be vulnerable and be cared for in our vulnerability. It’s a basic human need; even more basic than my need for food and shelter. Why? Because for most of childhood getting food and shelter depends on having people who care about us in our vulnerability, and that carries over into adulthood. Both physically and emotionally. Think about it: how long could you actually survive alone in the woods?
Please, find places where you can be vulnerable.
Being vulnerable in safe relationships means being able to let my guard down. It means letting others know what I’m really like behind my everyday mask.
When I drop my defenses and find that I am cared for—that I’m wanted. I feel valued. I feel safe. It means I’m not alone in this world. I don’t have to fend for myself. I have support.
Being rejected is terrifying because it means I’m alone, unprotected. Being unwanted feels like an existential threat because it is an existential threat. No one has all the resources they need to survive alone for long. Without people who care about me I’m in serious danger.
This fear of being undesirable causes much of my anxiety. I’m driven to isolate so no one can hurt me. Or to hide behind a mask to appear more acceptable. But neither move really helps. I instinctively know that isolation means death, and that I can only keep my mask up for so long.
What I really need is truly secure relationships where I can drop my mask and come out of hiding, and experience the joy of being known, accepted and loved.
I can remember many times when I really experienced that kind of acceptance. They are like oases in the desert of life. One was when I cried with my head in the lap of a friend. We were sitting on an old couch in his garage, he was listening to me talk about a deep pain in my life. He didn’t say much, he just made it clear that it was safe to express the grief I was carrying. When I fell apart, sobbing like a baby, he reached out to put his arm around my shoulders and I fell over weeping.
It’s one of my proudest moments. I’m not kidding! I look back at that time and see my courage. I dropped all my defenses and took a “leap” of faith to trust my friend. Do you know how much courage it takes for a grown man to weep like a baby in the presence of another man? A LOT! And the reward of feeling cared for is even greater!
I also feel deeply accepted when one of my and Liv’s favorite love songs plays on Spotify. I won’t scandalize you with all the lyrics, but the chorus goes like this:
“Because I've seen you
And I know you
And I'm not going anywhere”
When this song plays, it doesn’t matter what we’re doing, we both stop, look into each other’s eyes and sing with everything we’ve got. We’ve been through a lot together. She knows me—good and bad—and she isn't going anywhere.
I’m not alone. People know me and accept me. I’m enough. I’m loved.
How do you feel right now? Afraid? Maybe a little bit jealous? Maybe you have some secure relationships in your life where this deep need to be wanted is met, so you feel grateful.
I hope it’s the last one. I hope you have many secure places and relationships in your life. But if not, and you're feeling a little bit afraid, please take a moment to pause and feel beneath that fear. What are you afraid of? I’m willing to bet it’s a fear that you are uniquely disgusting. That if anyone knew the “real you” they would throw you away, and leave you alone.
The great liar: Shame
Shame drives that fear. Shame is the voice in the back of your head always whispering that no matter what you do, how you look, or what you accomplish, there is something uniquely disgusting about you. It tells me that I'm not enough, that I don't know enough, haven't done enough, am not good enough, and that I never will be. Shame says that I am disgusting and unloveable.
But shame is a liar. Jesus—God—says otherwise. He says you are enough for him. He knows your frailty, your weakness, even your sin and he isn't disgusted. He's attracted. Like an ocean of love, the deeper the holes in my soul the faster he rushes in.
You are not uniquely bad. You are not too burdensome or two needy or too dumb. Jesus sees you, and knows you, and he's not going anywhere. He loves you like his very own son or daughter. You will never be alone!
But…
Now, that's all well and good, but for many it's just words. It's the right answer to a theological test question. But that's it.
How do I feel like that's true? How do I experience that love as reality?
The incarnate grace of hospitality. Other human beings physically welcoming us into their spaces and explicitly telling us that we are valuable to them. That they care about us. We need Jesus' love to be enfleshed. In plain language, we need other human beings to give us little tastes, little experiences, of Jesus' unconditional approval and love of us. Hospitality, as we’ve said many times, preaches the gospel.
So, I implore you to seek out people with whom you can be vulnerable! Communities where you can feel and hear that you are welcome, known, and cared for. You need that more than anything.
There are several ways you can find such places. One is obviously spiritual direction or a retreat with Signpost Inn. Another is with a good therapist. Another is with a good church community and or small group. A support group for whatever your issues are is another good option (they exist for almost everything now!)
Whatever, or however, you can get connected with another human being who can hear what's really going on in your life, and look you in the eyes and say, "You are loved, you are enough. I see you and care about you." You need it.
Please, create places where others can be vulnerable
And then, create those places for others!
In ancient Hebrew culture, being hospitable was required by God’s law. A host would go out and meet a stranger on his way. He welcomed the guest, fed him and cared for his basic needs and those of his animals before even asking his name or the purpose of travels. The host brought him into his home, offered him a place to stay, and took responsibility for his personal safety. Then, upon departure, the host would travel some distance with the sojourner and ensure he had everything he needed for his journey.
God’s reasoning for all this? “For you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” (Leviticus 19:34 ESV). The Israelites knew what it was like to be vulnerable. They had been cared for, then enslaved, and finally rescued and welcomed into a new home. The Israelites knew, first hand, what it was like to be alone and then cared for.
And so do we. All of us have experienced the terrifying threat of being rejected. And many of us have also experienced the glorious security of being welcomed. So we too have the responsibility and privilege to care about others as Christ has cared about us.
But how do we create places where people feel safe letting down their guard? Simple. We first let down ours.
Notice the principle at work in the ancient Hebrew practice of hospitality. The host went out to the stranger and met him on his way. He asked no questions until the stranger’s needs had been met. It’s an intentional move of vulnerability on the host’s part. The host willingly exposes himself to potential harm by leaving the safety of his home and offering care before he knows anything about the stranger.
Every culture has a version of this. In its simplest, and least vulnerable form, it's a handshake. Or, in my martial arts training, I was taught to bow and grip one fist in the palm of my other hand. Both traditions are a form of “showing your hands” so the other can see you don’t have a weapon. They are mild ways of dropping your own guard so the other person can drop theirs. We create safety for others to be vulnerable by being appropriately vulnerable first.
This, I think, is one of the first jobs of any host desiring to offer Christian hospitality. I want to make you feel comfortable, safe. And that means being the first one to be a little bit vulnerable. As we discuss the practical aspects of hospitality throughout this book, I hope you’ll see the many ways you can appropriately do this.
For now, here’s X little examples.
When I meet a new directee for spiritual direction I often tell them just a little bit of my own spiritual journey. Without going into detail I let people know that I’ve been through severe family tragedy, and struggled with intense anxiety. Sometimes, if they ask, I’ll give a bit more detail. For example, I will let them know that I have had such severe panic attacks that I’ve curled up into the fetal position for hours in my closet, trying to hide from the world. These are past struggles, things I’m not currently struggling with, so they don’t feel like I’m asking for help, but they do tell you about some of my weaknesses and vulnerabilities.
I have to be careful not to overshare. That would be manipulative. Instead, I’m giving folks a small peek behind my mask. I’m human, just like you, and I’ve trusted you with an important part of my life’s story, you can trust me too.
Another, perhaps silly example, but one that I find effective, is to answer the question, “How are you?” honestly. I like being a greeter at church, and, in my previous ministry work I greeted parents dropping their children off at camp every week of every summer. In both cases it's sometimes helpful to answer the question, “How are you?” with a little more honesty than, “I’m good, how are you!”
I might smile and say, “Ah, that’s a complicated question, do you want the real answer or the standard one?” If they say they want the real answer I give a little specific about my day. For example, “Well, honestly, my baby puked all over my good shirt this morning, (a frequent occurrence during my younger days) so I had to do an entire load of laundry before breakfast this morning!” or “Well, honestly I got out of the house late today and totally forgot my computer bag until I got here. Had to rush home and get it and rush back here, so I’m feeling a little bit harried.”
Again, remember that all of this is context and person specific. What is appropriate welcoming vulnerability on the part of the host in one situation is inappropriate oversharing in another. This takes some discernment and practice. Go slowly at first, feel your way forward carefully. You’re not trying to manipulate or make things about you, you’re just trying to give a little bit of yourself so that the other person feels comfortable giving a little bit of themselves.
“It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper corresponding to him.” Genesis 2:18
“When a stranger sojourns with you in your land, you shall not do him wrong. You shall treat the stranger who sojourns with you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the LORD your God.” Leviticus 19:33-34 ESV