Are You Vulnerable with God?

Two months ago, I made a promise to myself: this year, I will not fall to pieces and get resentful and weird when the next predictably busy season hits. I will not accuse my basketball-coach husband of loving the sport more than me. I will be patient and supportive, knowing that the season will soon end.

My plan to keep that promise went something like this: I will get lost in my own busyness of planning an upcoming women’s retreat, and we’ll reconnect when the onslaught has passed.

Can you guess how well that worked?

Good intentions and resolutions can only get me so far. Those things can polish up the outside but, in the heat of the test, the unresolved funk growing in those deep, dark heart spaces oozes its way out without my permission. I can do all the behavior modification I want—get more organized, start new routines, set clear goals, find accountability partners—but the deep stuff? It still doesn’t go away.

I want to—need to—change and grow. But how does that change happen?

Not long ago, I probably would have answered, “Simple. The Holy Spirit. You study the Bible, pray, worship, serve, do all the things Jesus wants you to do, and the Spirit of God will gradually transform you.”

Do you agree with that answer?

I don’t think it’s false, but I do think it’s missing something. It is the Spirit’s work to change us. We do actively participate in this change through studying the truth and walking in obedience. It is a painstaking process that won’t be finished until we’re glorified with Christ in our resurrected bodies (can I get an “Amen” to that day coming quickly?). But I never experienced true, life-altering, mind-blowing, freedom-giving transformation until I understood the key to the human heart.

Vulnerability.

When I am vulnerable with God, I’m like a trembling dog that rolls onto its back, exposing its tender neck and bare belly before its master, as if to say, “I submit. You’re way more powerful than me. And I’m trusting you to use that power to protect me, not to harm me.”

It’s saying, “Here I am, in all my mess, Lord—my daily struggles, the sensitive spots I don’t really want to talk about, my hidden fears, my almost dead dreams, and all the wounds I’ve tried to ignore in my stubborn pride. I’m not going to hide the weakness of my humanity anymore; I’m going to ask you to call it to light so I can better receive your grace.”

What I’ve recently discovered is that vulnerability with God doesn’t just happen through studying the Bible, interceding for others, or even on-my-knees worship. Those activities might bring conviction that moves me to action, but the real kind of soul-searching vulnerability I’m talking about takes concentrated intentionality. For me, it usually starts with asking God to help me answer a hard question, such as:

What pulled me away from you today?
When did I live freely in your love? When did I live as a slave to sin?
What relationships did I damage today?
When did I ignore your conviction?
What or who am I trying to control?
What wounded my heart recently (or a long time ago that I haven’t dealt with)?

Then I write down what God reveals to me. It’s a safe space—just me, Jesus, and my journal—and I find that the simple act of writing helps the heart-change to stick.

Being vulnerable with God often means exposing sin and hurt, but our Father is so gentle and loving. He always touches those places with grace and reminds me that his power is made perfect in my weakness. And when I expose my heart to him, his love invades me in the deepest, most powerful way. I am humbled, enamored, satisfied, and transformed.

I still have so much to learn on this journey into my heart, but God is good and patient. He is awakening me to my brokenness, and it’s beautiful. He is rekindling my passions, and it’s exciting. He is teaching me how to live fully and abundantly as his daughter, and it’s precious. These are gifts I don’t think I would have received by just continuing to do all my Christian-y things. I’ve had to learn how to let him do open-heart surgery in order to unwrap and enjoy them.

So, my friends, I want to encourage you to have a real heart to heart with your Father. Sit with him like you would with your very best friend, and start talking about everything you have experienced lately and how it has affected you (especially considering what we are going through right now as a nation and as a global community). Read the Psalms if you need a reminder that you have permission to lay it all bare before God. Picture the compassion in his eyes as he asks you, “What have you been holding back from me lately?”

And know that as you expose yourself to him, he will not shame you, nor laugh at you, nor diminish you, nor crush you. He would never do those things to you, but he just might remind you how he was shamed and broken and beaten and denied and despised for you. Then, when his wounds touch yours, you will know, to the core of your being, that you are unconditionally loved. How could that knowledge not change us?

Corella Roberts is a country girl and a city girl. An introvert and a socialite. A homebody and an adventurer. But mostly, she’s simply Abba’s child. She’s married to her high school sweetheart, Troy, and they live in Thailand with their two full-of-life kids and two chubbier-than-most hamsters. Her heart is to see people connect deeply with Jesus, and you can often find her using her words to do just that at corellaroberts.com.