The Value of Vulnerability

Recently, a number of people have expressed appreciation for my willingness to be "real" about life, to be vulnerable. I have had had two reactions to this feedback. On the one hand, I want to say "Of course, there is no other rational way to live". On the other hand, I want to say "Really? I am doing that? That's great!" I didn't used to live this way, but I guess it's become a habit that I don't think about.

This past week I have been reflecting on how I came to choose to be vulnerable… and yes, it's a choice. Not surprisingly, Libby plays a central role. Early in our marriage we had some big problems. At the time I was sure 99% of our marital problems, ok, maybe 90% of our problems were due to Libby. Of course this wasn't the case. We started marriage counseling with Louie. At the time, Libby was struggling with severe clinical depression. Louie referred Libby to a physician for anti-depressants which made a huge difference in her life, but Louie knew that Libby's depression wasn't the sole issue in our marital struggles. It didn't take him long to get "my number" which was scary. I thought was pretty good at keeping people at a safe distance and keeping my weaknesses hidden. I most likely was, but Louie was very good a cutting through that sort of crap. I was the opposite of someone who was vulnerable. I lived a very controlled, self protected life. I could never show weakness. I could never fail to accomplish something. I always needed to be the best, or at least in the top 5%. Louie challenged me to be honest and open. I still remember when his words started to penetrate.  He said:

You are pretending to be stronger than you are, thinking that is what people want.
When you do this, you are lying. You are hurting yourself and those you love.
The people who love you will not be driven away by your weakness.
In fact, being authentic, showing your weaknesses is attractive.

In my heart, I knew he was right, but that didn't mean change was easy. The biggest help was Libby, Louie's continued encouragement / counsel, and several of my closest friends who showed me love, acceptance, and who tried to help me stay aware of my tendency to hide my weaknesses, to pretend like I had infinite resources to handle anything. They would call me "Super Mark". They would ask if I was wearing my costume with the giant "S" under my flannel shirt. Sometimes they would joke about phone booths.

As I  reflected on the topic of vulnerability this past week a pair of TED talks given by Brene Brown came up in my podcast queue. I would highly recommend these videos, well worth the 35 minutes it would take to watch them. [While I normally don't refer to someone I don't know by their first name, that seems overly familiar, I will in the rest of this post for brevity.] Brene's first talk was call the Power of Vulnerability. I found myself laughing through the whole talk… that nervous sort of laugh when you realize that someone might as well be talking about you. I saw so much of my past self in her talk. Her second talk, Listening to Shame continues her story… how she  had to deal the consequences of 4 million people having watched the first TED talk in which she talked very openly about her struggles to be vulnerable.

In Brene's first TED talk she shared that one of the most important things for people is to have a sense of connection with others, and that when she examined thousands of data points she had collected, she realized that the people who experienced connection with others were whole hearted. People who had the courage to be vulnerable. They knew they were imperfect, but they could deal with themselves and others with compassion. They embraced vulnerability, and that made them beautiful. They didn't see vulnerability as something awful or something wonderful, it was just something that is necessary. They understand that there are no guarantees, that sometimes being vulnerable would result in pain,  hurt, lose, but it was worth the risk because they believed that in spite of their imperfections, they were worthy of connection. Brene went on to describe how this research brought her to the point of a breakdown, or more euphemistically, a spiritual awakening. She spend a year working with a counselor wrestling with the implication of her research. She described how she lost the battle against vulnerability but in the process won her life back.

My process of learning to be vulnerable was not as quick. I wish I could say it was weeks or months. I would be happy if it was just the year that Brene described in her TED talk. It took me several years to make significant progress, with constant encouragement from Libby and Louie. I guess I was more willing than Brene to continue to fight against vulnerability, even though it was a foolish fight. Eventually though, I came to understand that without vulnerability, there couldn't be deep joy, belonging, or authentic love. I came to realize that I was living my life in constant fear. I was sure that if people really knew me, that they would reject me. This fear created as much separation and alienation as real rejection.

Brene describes this fear as shame. Shame is the voice that tells us that it is too risky to be vulnerable. It started by saying "you aren't good enough", and if that fails, it tries "who do you think you are". Ironically, this sense of shame, this fear, produces as much separation as real rejection. In fact, it's maybe worse because when you choose to be vulnerable, and you are rejected, there is an opportunity to learn, to change, to grow, and try again. If you don't expose yourself, you will never know. There is no chance for it to get better. When I came to understand that I had nothing to lose, and a lot to possibly gain, I started to slowly, carefully, reveal the person I truly was. I started to practice vulnerability. I thought, worst case, I would learn that my fears were accurate. At least then I would know for certain what I was dealing with. At best, Louie was right, I would find that people accepted my imperfections, and I would know they authentically care for me, that I would experience true community, connection.

I started to lower my guard. I started to be willing to show my weaknesses. The reactions from people was mixed. There were some people who judged me. There were people who moved away from me, clearly troubled or threatened. But there were many more people, especially Libby and my closest friends who showed me the most amazing acceptance and love. I found that rather than being repelled by my weakness, they drew in closer. They stood by me, offered help, support, companionship.  I experienced a life that was much more connected. Life got 1000% better.

A couple of years later we moved to a new city and found ourselves in a new church. We joined a small group and started to build new friendships. After a few months Libby and I noticed a pattern in what couples we were attracted to, and were starting to develop a closeness with. Their lives were messy. We could see that they were struggling with a host of issues. They weren't always positive… we would hear about pain, heartache, struggles. You know what? It was attractive. We knew who they were. They didn't live in a self protective bubble that kept everything at a safe distance. We realized that the lessons we had learned before moving were critically important. We didn't want to forget them, to slip into a pattern of self protection. Together we made a commitment to live as openly and honestly, vulnerably as we knew how.

The first test of this resolve came a few months after we had moved. Libby's mother passed away. We flew back to Columbus for the funeral. When we came back Libby was struggling with unresolved feelings related to her mom. We decided to talk with Lynne, one of our pastors who specialized in counseling. The first meeting with her was SCARY. It seemed like she saw right into our hearts. Not only did she ask questions about the things we presented and expected to talk about, but she asked questions that touched on things that we weren't comfortable thinking about, much less letting anyone else know about. We could have decided that she was too scary, too perceptive, too discerning. Instead, we realized that she was a women who loved people, who wanted to come along side and help. We also realized that she was commitment to living honestly, to be vulnerable. Rather than fear exposure,  we decided that we would seek it out, and who better than someone who seemed to see things we weren't even aware of. After the immediate counseling issue was resolved we continued to seek this dear women out as a friend. Over the years Lynne became one of our most cherished friends. We found her insight liberating, and her vulnerability refreshing.

In Brene's second talk, "Listening to Shame", she suggests that shame is focused on self. Shame said "I am bad". She contracts shame to guilt. Guilt said "I did something bad", a focus on behavior. Brene went on to say that shame said "I am a mistake" where guilt says "I made a mistake". Shame destroys the opportunity for connectedness where guilt lets us compare what with did against what we want which is adaptable. While I think she makes a very good point, I think she doesn't go far enough. Shame is indeed extremely destructive, but guilt can also be quite corrosive. Even the briefest examination of the topic of guilt would more than double this post, so I won't. I will suggest the most excellent book called  No Condemnation by S. Bruce Narramore which has the subtitle Rethinking Guilt Motivation. I am sure it will be no surprise that the people people who taught me the most about vulnerability and wholehearted living, Lynne and Louie recommended this book to me and used it's material as they teach.

Brene talked about what happens when you put shame in a petrie dish. She observed that if you dose the dish with empathy, shame stands no chance. It can't grow. If you want to shame to grow, just add secrecy, silence, and judgement. I am committed to a life of vulnerability… to fight against shame, and encourage others to choose to be honest, vulnerable, courage. It is tempting to think "when I get things together, when I am sure things will work, when I am sure I will succeed, then I will let people in, then I will let people see the real me". There are two problems with this. First, it's unlikely to ever happen. Second, that's not what  people want to see. What they want to see is honesty, they want to see people who dare greatly, who take risks. I would encourage everyone to choose to live with authenticity. Live in the light.  My deepest regrets are the times I don't do this.

This is how one should regard us, as servants of Christ and stewards of the mysteries of God. Moreover, it is required of stewards that they be found faithful. But with me it is a very small thing that I should be judged by you or by any human court. In fact, I do not even judge myself. For I am not aware of anything against myself, but I am not thereby acquitted. It is the Lord who judges me. Therefore do not pronounce judgment before the time, before the Lord comes, who will bring to light the things now hidden in darkness and will disclose the purposes of the heart. Then each one will receive his commendation from God.  (1 Corinthians 4:1-5 ESV)

Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. Let those of us who are mature think this way, and if in anything you think otherwise, God will reveal that also to you. Only let us hold true to what we have attained. (Philippians 3:12-16 ESV)

27+ Years of Blessing, Part 1

Twenty seven years ago Libby and I were married in a school's multi-purpose room with our friends and family looking on. It was a stressful but happy day. The morning was spent moving Libby's belongings from the room she had been sharing with a friend to what was to be our new home…  someone needed to move into Libby's old room ASAP. The afternoon was filled with all sorts of last minute errands to prepare for the wedding. We were one of the first couples in our peer group to get married. We didn't have friends who would tell us the words we now repeat:

Do you know then best thing about the wedding?  When it's done, you are married!! That's all that matters. All the things that go wrong during the wedding will become favorite memories that you will laugh about five years from now.

A couple of hours before the wedding Libby returned to the house she had been living in to get cleaned up and get dressed. At the time she lived with 10-12 other women. The house had one good bathroom. Libby was so worried that with everyone getting ready for the wedding she wouldn't get to take a shower. I assured her that her housemates would make sure she would be prepared in time for the wedding, and that included getting to take a shower. Libby did get to take a shower before the wedding.

That night we were married, and started a grand adventure together. We were married pretty young… Libby was 21 and still working on her undergrad degree. Libby was fond of saying we were married young, maybe too young, but we choose well.

In the first few years of our marriage were hard.  Most marriages to go through a difficult patch in the first few years  as the romantic dreams runs headlong into the realities of life together. There were a number of issues in our personal lives, and in life circumstances that seemed overwhelming. There were times when some of these issues, especially some that Libby brought into our marriage seemed like they might crush us and I became resentful, even bitter. In time, God's mercy became evident, and healing in both our lives took place. I was once again able to see Libby clearly, to understand how precious she was, and how blessed I was to have her in my life. I was delighted to discover that Libby cherish me more than I could imagine. Sara Groves described coming through such a time in her song A Different Kind of Happy. As time has passed, I have come to cherish Libby all the more.

Five months ago I had to write something for Libby's memorial program. How do you fit 30+ years of shared life and observations into a couple of paragraphs. How can you possibility figure out what is most important. Maybe someone who is a more gifted writer who thinks more deeply, could distill a life into a few paragraphs, but I sure couldn't. When my dad passed ten years ago I wrote up a short tribute which I called lessons from dad. I wanted to write something like this for Libby because the memorial service program seemed to fall so short of capturing who Libby was… but I was unable to write anything. Today writing something down is coming a bit easier. This entry is my start to do justice to Libby's memories. To start to pull together something that truly honors the women Libby was. I am sure there is much more to write.  The following are a few of Libby's characteristics that I believe deserve to be mentioned with a few observations of how I was blessed by Libby.

This evening a friend wished me "happy anniversary". These two simple words helped me realize that I had spent the day thinking of Libby… but it wasn't a weepy sad day, but rather a day where I found myself marveling at how much of a blessing Libby was.  It was a happy anniversary.

Loyal & Sacrificial Love:

During high school I  heard Carole King sing "You've Got a Friend". I thought this was my anthem, though I am not sure I actually lived up to all the lyrics. Libby wasn't particularly fond of the song, but it described her life well. No one could be a finer friend than Libby. She was deeply devoted to all her friends. No effort, no cost, no sacrifice was too large. She did not give up on people, nor would she be driven away, even if you gave her crap in return for the love.  I can think of a number of people that Libby continued to love, support, confront, comfort, even when they responded very badly. Over time she might become fatigued,  her words could take on an edge, she could become prickly, but she wouldn't give up. Libby was fond of saying "I am on your team." This statement often preceded statements which could be taken as an attack, but never were. Rather, Libby was willing to enter conflict, something she HATED, if it would help a friend. She was on your team. She would do anything if it would mean that you would be helped.

I am fond of saying that I married up. No, not in the typical way of marrying someone with more money, education, status, or influence. I mean marrying someone who was better than me, more noble. Libby cherished me. To be honest, this still amazes me, and I am so thankful for her agreeing to marry me. Even when I hurt her deeply, she continue to love me, cherish me. She treated my heart is if it was the most precious object. Careful not to break it, yet willing to be be an attending nurse when painful surgery was required.

My most vivid memory of this was a conversation we had over twenty years ago. I can still remember exactly where were we sitting. I wanted to make some life changes. She told me that she was sure I was about to make a huge mistake, I was running from things I should turn and face… but she would support me, love me, be at my side even if I continued to make stupid choices. As she expressed her commitment to love me, to stick by my side, it became clear to me what a cost she would pay to support me in a bad decision. I don't know that I have ever felt so loved. Her love gave me the courage to turn and face the things I was running from. In the ultimate irony, her willingness to sacrifice herself, saved her from experiencing that suffering because her love turned my heart.

Courage:

Libby did not shy away from hard things. She was prepared to face them head on.  She might be scared, feel overwhelmed, but if she thought something needed to be done or faced, she would lean into the discomfort. On the surface she had remarkable courage, but her heart was even more courageous. Libby had a very deep negative streak.  She had a remarkable ability to identify anything that could possibly go wrong and some things that couldn't but she could imagine them breaking as well. Yet in spite of these terrible, worse case possible outcomes, she would find the courage to take a risk and step out to do what she felt she was called to do.

We would joke about what a good team we made. I am someone who typically assumes everything will work out, so I will sign up to take a risk without counting the cost. I would approach Libby and say "Lets give XYZ a try." She would wrestle through all her fears and say "Ok.  Let's do it.".  I would be fine up until the the hard commitment was requirement, the preverbal "jump off the cliff moment" at which point I found myself saying "Oh my God, what have I gotten us into". Libby would hold my hand, remind me why it was worth taking the risk and share with me all the issues she had to wrestle through. I would always find my spirit lighted as I laughed at some of the outrageous worse case scenarios she came up with. It was always easier to take a risk when you knew someone who loved you would be at your side.

A Devotion to God:

People operate on multiple levels and sometimes all those levels are synchronized well, sometimes things don't work quite as your would expect.  On many levels, Libby was more devoted to following the Lord than anyone I knew. She desired to build her life around God, around Jesus. She continuously sought for ways to serve and to proclaim Him. Life was ministry.  She wanted to know the Lord intimately. The last ten years of her life she really benefits from the contemplative traditions she learned through Wellspring. She was devoted to practicing listening prayer. She longed to see the Lord clearly, to follow Him, to dance in His presence. Along side of this, Libby has a life long struggle with depression which often made it hard for her to find the joy in her Lord that she desired. One of the great comforts I had when she passed was that she is now seeing the Lord face to face, freed from the effects of sin, able to joyously worship her maker, to dance in His presence.

Libby's love for me made me want to cherish her. If I was married to nearly anyone else, they would have become an idol to me. Someone that was more important than anything, including following God. I have seen how that can go so badly wrong in other people's lives. Thankfully Libby was more devoted to the Lord than to me. When my focus shifted, she pointed me right back to  God. To please her, I needed to please the Lord. Libby was such a perfect provision for me. It was through Libby's example that I found myself drawn to God. It was through her going to Heaven that I found my heart drawn to God in a new and deeper way.

I deeply miss Libby and find myself sometimes struggling with loneliness. It would be tempting to try and fill this longing with another person… but I am thankful that hasn't happened. These last few months without Libby has helped me see more clearly God's love, and provided me with a growing appreciating of how He cherishes me, how He cherishes all of us, and why Libby was so devoted. I am embarrassed to admit, in the past I might have traded closeness with God for a person who would cherish me as Libby did. I couldn't do that now. The thrill of seeing God work, the comfort He has provided my heart has been so great. I couldn't give that up. If there was any chance that a human relationship would take that away, I wouldn't be interested. For a bit I feared this meant I would never again have a relationship that was as intimate as what I had with Libby. But I know this doesn't have to be the case. I have Libby's example. With prayer, with grace, with daily seeking the Lord, it's possible to love someone dearly, to have them love you, and at the same time be deeply in love with our God. There is a lot I don't know about the future, but one thing I know, that the Lord is slowly growing my heart, drawing me closer, I am growing more devoted to Him. I find that I am a bit more like Libby each day which makes my heart glad.

Being Uncomfortable, Student and Teacher

I would notice The Courage to Teach by Parker Palmer every time I visited my favorite bookstore. I didn't picked it up... I am not a teacher. In my mind, teachers are those brave souls who stands in front of students in a school, or in front of the congregation of a church and present a well structured, well scripted stream of information that enlightens and enlivens the audience. I have periodically found myself in a situation where I was called on to formally teach, but only because there was no one else available, not because I am particularly gifted or felt a great desire.
I don't remember what ultimately led me to pick up The Courage to Teach, but I am glad I did. Rarely has a book so resonated with me. As I read Palmer's book, I realized that teaching isn't restricted to something done in front of a crowd of people. Teaching can also be a collaborative activity in a small group, or even one to one. I realized I aspire to be a teacher in improvisational settings: talking with a coworker about a hard problem they can't solve by themselves, with my daughter exploring a life choice, or in the aisle of REI discussing the effectiveness of various insect repellents based on scientific data.

Some teaching is light and easy, little more than passing on information. While this can be enjoyable, I love teaching that can be transformative, that has significance. There is a section of The Courage to Teach which talked about how deep truths that bring about transformation are often paradoxes. Hard to understand, and uncomfortable to sit within. Palmer starts this section saying:

Holding the tension of paradox so that our students can learn at deeper levels is among the most difficult demands of good teaching... understand that the tension that comes when I try to hold a paradox together is not hell-bent on tearing me apart. Instead, it is a power that wants to pull my heart open to something larger than myself.

I find myself reflecting on this process, and find that today, I am more a student than a teacher. I am an impatience man. I don't like paradoxes. I don't like unanswered questions. I don't like a multitude of opportunities. I like the definite: decisions, direction, in a word, closure. The more important the issue, the closer an issue is to my heart, the more quickly I want resolution. Resolution rarely come as quickly as I wish. If we are blessed, this movement of the heart might be accomplished in a few hours, but often it's days, months, years, sometimes even decades.

Over the last several years, I have hoped to make a vocational change. To find a way to spend more time focused on people, and less on products and technology, to be a teacher in a small setting. This transition has seemingly been blocked. I wonder if this was because I was not ready to be a teacher, rather I needed to first learn to be a good student. Through the lose of Libby God has been teaching me how to be quiet, how to listen, how to be patient, to be a student of life. I still have much to learn, but at least in my own life, I am learning not to rush through things too quickly, even when it's uncomfortable.

I hope to be a good teacher some day, but I know I have a long way to go. A good teacher is willing to suffer along side the student as the learning process unfolds. In fact, a good teacher often needs to help the student by helping them stay in an uncomfortable place. While I have become more willing to sit in these hard places in my own life, I struggle greatly when people I care about are suffering. I want to "fix the problem". I will tend to rush them because I am uncomfortable, not because it is what will be the best for them. I pray that I learn to sit with others in those difficult places, to listen in silence while those hard paradoxes opens hearts, to support them in love while their hearts struggle and then finds true healing.

Last Monday I would have said that I am making progress, that maybe I am starting to learn what it takes to be a good teacher. That afternoon I chatted with a good friend and found that I still have so much to learn. I had a expectation that I would be helping my friend. Instead I didn't listen, and said things that were completely unhelpful, exposing how off I was. The critique "Waiting your turn to speak is not the same thing as listening" strikes very close to home. After the conversion I found myself wondering if there was any hope, would I ever learn to listen? Could I help others? Thankful, I believe there is hope.

First came a question the next day. "When you speak before listening is that the end of it, or do you recognize your mistake and step back?" The previous day I had thought myself to be ready to teach and share something useful, but I completely missed what was happening in my friend's life. Yet, the story didn't end there. I was able to recognize I was missing something. I was able to recognize that rather than being a teacher in that moment, I was a student being taught through my friend's life and words. In the end, I believe I was able to offer some encouragement and help while I was learning from them.

Next came an essay at the end of the book Spiritual Formation which discussed Henri Nouwen's view of spiritual formation. Nouwen saw spiritual life is a journey, as a series of spiritual movements from this quality to that, from things that enslave and destroy to liberation and life. Nouwen's books often articulate these movements and highlight that the transformation is brought about by the Spirit. This suggests that just recognizing the immediate movement and responding to it is sufficient. I found this comforting, because it's more about being in the moment that building of one thing on top of another. The following was the description of how Nouwen's approach to spiritual formation changed:

In his early years as a priest who offered spiritual direction and supervision to seminarians and members of religious orders, Nouwen counseled others to follow the classical disciplines in order to climb the ladder of divine ascent in progressive stages of unification. Climbing Jacob’s ladder, step by step, toward spiritual perfection is a common image and motif in classical stage theory. Nouwen had read John of the Ladder, the sixth-century ascetic who sought perfection in the desert, and Nouwen despaired of ever reaching the top. By the time he arrived at Notre Dame as a professor of pastoral psychology, he had turned the ladder of ascent on its side and taught spiritual formation as a series of horizontal movements of the heart, back and forth, that require daily devotion and discipline, with the goal of human wholeness rather than divine perfection.

The third encouragement came the following day from a TED video by Brian Goldman entitled Doctors make mistakes. Can we talk about that?. Goldman is calling for a radical change in the medical community: to acknowledge that being perfect, that never making mistakes is not possible. That the community should embrace mistakes and learn from them, and find better ways for people to work together as a team. Goldman's talk made me think of a conversation with a dear friend who is an extremely gifted counselor. In talking about the counseling process she said "It's not a set of skills, techniques or formal education. More important that any skill is to love the person in front of you, and to listen with an expectation that God is speaking into the situation." She often tells the people she is not concerned about being right, rather she is concerned that together, they can find what is true. She has great confidence that this can happen, because God is in the room, providing light and love.

Finally, as I was driving home I found myself listening to the song A Different Kind of Happy by Sara Groves which speaks about how good it is to look honestly at life with someone else, how sharing together transforms lives and relationships. When I listen to this song, the first thing that comes to mind is Libby and how much I appreciated sharing life with her. Libby is gone from this earth, but I still experience the sharing of life. The Bible talked about how all who follow Jesus are part of the "Body of Christ". That a hallmark of true faith is loving one another. I am so grateful to have experienced this profoundly in the last few months. Much of the love and support has come from people who are part of my local church, people who live in the bay area. But there are people who live more distantly that have helped me experience that different kind of happy. Dear friends who called / visited from Columbus, Phoenix, Boston, DC, and Anaheim. Timely words from friends spread across the world. A text message, Skype or email that came when I most needed help. Words from Russia, China, Taiwan, Singapore, India, and Thailand.

My take away? There is hope. It's possible or be a student, a learner, a teacher, because God is good. He cares for us and will lead us to truth and wholeness if we humbly turn our eyes to Him.

But everyone must be quick to hear, slow to speak and slow to anger; for the anger of man does not achieve the righteousness of God. -- James 1:19-20