Susceptible to physical or emotional injury; capable of being wounded

Why does life hurt so much sometimes? Why do I sigh in heartache when my ideas and wishes and desires that I share get stepped on?

Anytime I invite someone to be a part of my life, I am taking a risk. A risk that he or she may say no, that my gesture may not get returned, that my invitation may be rejected, that my love may not be reciprocated. One of the scarier things I’ve done recently is reaching out to freshman at the beginning of the school year, offering to be their friend and help them get to know our school. I’m going out on a limb and I have no idea how they’ll respond to this.

Being vulnerable is handing your heart to someone and taking the risk that they will hand it back because they don’t want it. When we love, we give the other person the power in the relationship. They can do what they like with our love. When we love, we put ourselves out there, we expose ourselves, we allow ourselves to be vulnerable. Love is giving up control. It’s surrendering the desire to control the other person. If we are serious about loving someone, we must surrender our wish to manipulate the relationship.

Vulnerability is hard. Scary. Lonely sometimes. Jesus is the ultimate example of this.

Jesus is God being vulnerable. Naked, wounded, and hanging on a cross, asking the question, “What will you do with me? Will you accept me or reject me?” It’s God making the first move and then waiting for our response. It’s God holding his hand out and then waiting to see if we will take it or laugh at it.

In the most stunning act of love and self-sacrifice and vulnerability, our Lord hung on the cross, offering his everything to people who had a track record of hating him.

I don’t think he thought everyone would accept his offer of life and love. There have been many people dedicated to God throughout the years, but there have been many more people who ultimately, completely, absolutely rejected Jesus. But the fact that some people would reject him didn’t stop him from offering to everyone, knowing there would be some who would accept him.

This is incredible. Could it be that we are called to be ready to offer ourselves, our friendship, our love to the entire world? Not just the people we know will reciprocate it? Again, this is super scary. But we’re not alone in this.

If you have ever had your heart broken by someone, you know how God feels. If you have ever given yourself to someone and found yourself waiting for their response, exposed and vulnerable, left hanging in the balance, you know how God feels. If you have ever given yourself to someone and they responded, they reciprocated with a love of their own, you know how God feels. Why? Because this is exactly what God does for us!

The cross is God’s way of saying, “I know what it’s like – I know how you feel.” The cross is God taking on flesh and blood and saying, “Me too.” You see, we have a God who knows what being vulnerable feels like, who knows what taking a risk in loving someone is like. God chooses to be vulnerable to us. Love is risky for God too. But he keeps going, keeps offering, keeps loving, keeps risking. And if God can continue to risk, then maybe we can too.

I especially believe this is important for women in today’s world.

The classic novel A Tale of Two Cities creates a beautiful beautiful portrait of a young lady who treats the valueless, fallen men in her life with compassion and love, opening her heart to them, believing in them instead of belittling them, recalling them to lives of purpose and strength. The story ultimately revolves around a worthless bum who is the unsuspecting recipient of this girl’s love and mercy, and how his heart is so changed by her actions that at the novel’s end, we find him forging an incredible, sacrificial plan to provide for the young woman’s wellbeing by nobly, heroically giving up his own life.

Never have such little black words printed tiny on the musty page made me cry so much. How can I be this type of woman? How can I live my life after the pattern of my Lord, taking risks in love and choosing to be vulnerable and inviting and loving to the people of this world that no one else will even look at?

A man reflects the strength, the wildness, the protection offered by a mighty God. But a woman is meant to be the incarnation of the part of God that is beautiful, captivating, inviting, lovely, relational, merciful, tender. And vulnerable.

A woman who unveils her beauty and love and friendship is inviting others to life. She risks being vulnerable – showing her true heart and inviting others to share theirs. She is not demanding, but she is hopeful. Her beauty is a glimpse into the heart of God.

You see, ultimately a woman invites us to know God. To experience through her that God is merciful. That he is tender and kind. That God longs for us – to be known by us and to know us. She invites us to experience that God is good, deep, lovely, alluring, and captivating.

Of course this is not easy. To offer and be selfless and to take a chance in loving those who may not reciprocate is hard. Once again, we have a God who understands this and sympathizes with us.

Jesus offered like no other, and many many rejected him. In those moments or seasons when vulnerability hurts, God’s invitation is to bring our sorrow to him. Not to shut down with, “I’ll never try that again.” But to keep our hearts open and alive, and find refuge and healing in his love. Ultimately, that’s the only way we’ll succeed in being vulnerable to the world.

(Many ideas and text from this post were borrowed from Chapter 8 of Captivating, by John and Stasi Eldredge, and Chapter 5 of Sex God, by Rob Bell. Many thanks to these authors who are much more skilled than I.)