Exposed

It’s a desperate desire I’ve long kept close, an attempt at organically weaving all I speak and act into one raw, real, sinning, God-forgiven soul. The audacity of vulnerability is agonizing.  

I crave the same reality in others, when the smiles and have-it-all-togethers have been painfully wrenched from the sacred spaces, I want to behold what’s left. To connect. To meet, accept, know in the depth laid bare because I’m hurting too. Because I am cosmically disappointed and jealousy overwhelms and impatience rules and weren’t we made for this? I want you to know it and I want to know it. We are not islands and we always need one more to usher us into the throne room and our hearts are not so different after all.

Those moments are sweet. Scary and exhilarating.

Fast-forward to this messy chapter, the year of the wringing where I was strained, bare, forced to stand face to face with Goodness himself. This unwelcome and unexpected exposing began suddenly to give language to parts of me that had never before donned skin. I was embarrassed by my honesty. With so much lost and so little to lose, I stopped entertaining ideals of what I should be wanting and asked myself what I actually wanted, needed—all Christian lingo aside, all Sunday school answers thrown out.

I lost all control. The deepest exposing gave me life, communion. Laying myself bare, facing the darkest shades of sapphire and black, gave him room to be known. Light burst forth without hesitation.

Only in the uncovering are patterns broken, vices devastated, old, hard, consuming things made new because only in the uncovering can we truly commune with Glory. He isn't a friend who can just listen well, relate. He is a gentle Father with the wise knowledge and power to bring about change in this daughter of dust.

I am exposed, and he is too-- all beauty and might-- and we are undone.

Strength and beauty are in your sanctuary, the Psalmist sings and I know it full well.