Vulnerability, Transparency and Authenticity

It is easy to talk about vulnerability and transparency. There is nothing more difficult than actually living into both. The twins. They are not quite evil twins but they both look like each other and can bring fear and foreboding. Have you ever had a dream where you were naked in front of a crowd of people? That is the closest example of what comes to mind when thinking about what it is like to be both transparent and vulnerable.

Not everyone agrees that they are the similar. I recently read this definition:

Vulnerable: Susceptible of physical or emotional attack or harm. In need of attention, support, or protection because of age, disability, risk of abuse or neglect.

Transparent: Free from pretense or deceit. Having thoughts, feelings, or motives that are easily perceived.

The author of these definitions also wrote: “When you look at the definitions, you’ll see some pretty glaring differences. Vulnerability requires you to invite people into the moments you need help, feel insecure, shame, or don’t “have it all together.” It requires a significantly higher level of trust in the person you invite into your process. In essence, it means you have to lower your walls of defense and invite people into areas you feel weak. Transparency, on the other hand, you can still have your guard up, but not hold back what you’re feeling in the moment. You are expressing your emotions, but you’re not letting people have an impact on your heart.”

I do not see it the same way. For me, transparency is the removal of defensive barriers that keep people from seeing your struggle. Vulnerability is simply sharing the struggle. Both demand courage and can encourage those who have been entrusted to witness the sharing. But if they are to be helpful to others, one must feel the authenticity in the sharing of the story.

My ministry has been shaped by a willingness to risk both. It came with a price. After preaching in such a way on Sundays, Mondays were awful. I often felt a quiet voice of disapproval. That voice did not come from others, it came from deep inside of me. I understood the power of sharing my struggles but after doing it, I felt like I should have had my life/faith together more than I did. I wanted to let people know that if I, the preacher, struggled, it was alright if they did. But by sharing those intimate times of crisis, I returned to the crisis itself. Even if I had resolved it, telling the story put me right back into the midst of the struggle.

A similar thing happened to me while writing recently. I returned to the hospital where Joseph died. I could smell the smells, see the light, feel the emotions. The more I shared my vulnerability through being transparent in my writings, the more I heard that familiar voice. Why didn’t I have my act together when I walked through the lonely, cold corridors of the hospital? The fear I again felt took my breath away. I wanted to share those moments, but the moments became hours as I tossed and turned in bed following my writing. I felt it important to let others know beyond the simple story that my son got sick and died. But those hours turned into days and the days turned into weeks. I wounded myself by going there.

It is good to confess those feelings. I walked away for awhile from my writing. I had to. The wound was reopened. But here I am again. One might think that I would never do that again. But if that is the thought, it could not be further from where I am.

Brené Brown has written “The point of being vulnerable, authentic, and transparent is to cultivate meaningful connections with other human beings. I truly believe that connection, love, and belonging are the reasons we are all here on this giant spinning rock.” Thank you Ms. Brown. That is how I feel. Why write if I can’t find a way to connect with others. Indeed I could spin a tale about how well my life works. I could share how my faith is so impressive that even in the midst of the death of my son, I stood tall. And no one would connect to that.

So I choose to “go there.” Even if it is painful. Connections make us human. And being human is painful and lovely and inspiring and difficult. But beyond it all, it is a gift. So here I am again. Choosing to stand before you naked with all my imperfections.

Until next time,

DP

One Reply to “Vulnerability, Transparency and Authenticity”

  1. Yeah, definitely opens pain, anguish when you are vulnerable and transparent. But I think that’s also where joy is, right? If you can’t connect this way, you can’t experience true joy? Like what you’ve shared about Joseph, takes us all there with you. Reading what Emily or Tim say, what you all talk about Joseph…we are all there to share. You aren’t alone. And there’s even relief. Then joy. I think. I love when you share the truth we all experience in this life. And we know WE aren’t alone through you. And there’s more joy.

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