Naked

  • (of a person or part of the body) without clothes.
  • (of an object) without the usual covering or protection.
  • (of a tree, plant, or animal) without leaves, hairs, scales, shell, etc.
  • exposed to harm; unprotected or vulnerable.
  • (of something such as feelings or behavior) undisguised; blatant.

{definitions from Google Dictionary}

I want to be vulnerable. See, I ask it of others, and I encourage their truths, but I’m not even sure of my own. I want people to open up and reveal their true selves because I’ve read and I’ve heard from wise speakers that being vulnerable helps. It prevents mid-life crises, and it mends old scars. It prevents vile infections of the depths of our hearts. See, vulnerability is a word that implies some levels of weakness, but like detoxing the body we’ll feel symptoms at first because to have immunity we must give up the falsehood of impunity. All the tar and the toxins and waste in our souls must be dumped out and shed, reprimanded with coals – yes, coals, like the lumps for bad boys and girls on Christmas morning. Did you know that charcoal cleans? It’s a symbol for aborning, yet, so very few people seek this, are willing to sow to reap this cleansing. We want to see others do it and succeed first. We want to make sure that it works. We, yes that’s me too, want to have something to hold above everyone else – before I tell you my secrets I want to be able to extort you.

I’ve decided to change my mind because as humans that something we can do. I want to be a first, to give up my afflictions, make use of my convictions. I invite you to put me up, or down, for your sake – I invite this crucifixion because I’m tired of the restriction of my stubborn pride and my addiction to the contradiction between my inner tears and fears and wears and tears and the outer fiction that is my diction.

I’m not always as brave as I like to say. I don’t adhere to routine because I’m lazy most days. I’m not brazen, nor shy, just wherever in between suits me best. I have talents, but don’t try, and I’ve never studied hard for a test. My all-or-nothing attitude means I give up on a lot because rather than admitting I went too hard, too soon, I convince myself the cause was for naught. Half the time I’m at work, or otherwise spending time that’s not free, I’m on my phone or on Facebook, and find myself scrambling to hide so my boss doesn’t see. I also drink too much coffee, but don’t think that my vulnerabilities are all surface like these.

It took me thirty minutes to find the courage to even share this that you’re seeing because all I could think about is whether or not you people watching would be agreeing. I get caught up in my emotions and wallow in my feelings, and I pity myself for the unpleasant life-dealings that past-me caused me now. I used alcohol and weed to give me everything I need outside of myself, to escape responsibility – no, the guilt of not being responsible, the self-created and given humility. I’ve spat hate in the eyes of my mother, and smothered men with a love only loved by a father. I laid with hypocrisy and judgement like they were my lovers, taunted souls and broken hearts for the sake of my comfort under the covers, then kept and prized all the pieces like ancient potsherd. Through my fear and my pride I’ve perverted, made impure my words, body, thoughts, and actions. I’ve sought out my death by sneaking and lying,  manipulating and prying to have somebody else say what I wanted to be heard. I’ve stolen. I’ve adulterated. I’ve cursed my family’s names more times than I can mention. Continuously I give excuse to my sins because “I have good intentions.”

What’s more though, than even the darkest of my heart, is the light and life I tried to possess and create while I covered my own eyes in the dark. I asked truth to wait, while I picked and prodded around. First with science, I questioned, cause I wanted “proof more sound.” Then through theories I sought, looking in all places for answers and guidance except right where I knew I would find them. I never wanted to call myself a Christian because I didn’t like what a few radical people said and did with that title. I didn’t want people to think that I was one of those people who took the book, the Bible, and shoved it down the throats of anyone who who couldn’t agree because at one point that was me, who couldn’t wholly believe.

So while I write out my truths and before I mention His name – I’m wondering how many of you will turn, now, away. If you haven’t already, then I hope you stay, and I’ll tell you I pray because there’s more on the credibility of vulnerability that I have to say.

The best part for me about my relationship with God is the part that has urged me to share. See, there isn’t a care why you start or where or for what reason, in what season that you choose to share your inner-most thoughts and feelings and opinions on your life-dealings. Just be there. Be here, and know that someone else is, too. Someone wants you. It doesn’t matter how you address Him, though I will say that Jesus, Lord, Father, and Savior are a preference.

If you’re unsure what you think, just dip your toes in and see. Much of what you will read, you already believe. What you’ll read aren’t like fables, like novels and fantasies, they’re truths that ring so true that you’ll grow weak in your knees and they may find the ground and your heart may just seize. It might become hard to breathe as you suddenly see that you aren’t yet the person that you’re meant to be.

You may find yourself wondering how could you please, in all possibilities, some God you can’t see. I’m telling you now, you just have to believe. Everything else comes in time, or so says my expertise.

I tell you from experience that sometimes you have to just start with pretend and sometimes you can’t start until you’ve lost all your friends, until all you have are fiends and you feel like there’s nobody and nothing on which you can truly depend. Sometimes it takes thinking your life is at an end, but I promise you this: the words in the Bible are a helping hand at extend, there to mend and to tend to your broken ways and to wend you new ways so that you may ascend.

While I write forth my efforts to you now, in example and hope that you’re ready, I cannot promise you that my support will always be steady because I have my own baggage, and I still, too often feel that it’s heavy. I’m still learning, like you, to let go and not be afraid; I’m still learning to accept that, for all wrongs, somehow all the debts have been paid. I’m still coming to grips with a God up above, who once became a man to show us the meaning of love. I still can’t fathom, can hardly imagine, most of what is done, but I know and I show with as much vulnerability as I can bare, that when it comes to truth and strength and love, no book and no god can compare.

“Cross my heart

hope to die

stick a needle in my eye.”

 

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