I’m more comfortable with vulnerability than I’ve ever been, especially when the person listening has the emotional bandwidth for it. It’s when they don’t know how to hold such a vulnerable space of someone else’s heart, that it feels a lot riskier.
Like most Lenten journeys, mine has been one of letting go. Not of food or drink or chocolate. But of my deep fear of being vulnerable with certain people in my life.
The relationships where I resist humility the most are the ones, I’m learning, that need it the most.
I need the discipline humility can provide.
But, like most humans, having been hurt in vulnerable spaces has made me more than a little skittish around choosing humility and the vulnerability it requires.
Fears’ power paralyzes in these places.
Compacting these fears are memories of another’s painful response to my efforts to be humble or vulnerable. Those responses feel like potholes on the path of this essential discipline in the life of a follower of Jesus. But they can often offer an unpredictable mixology of outcomes.
Today, deep in Holy Week, I am reminded that Jesus knows all about that mixology of responses to humility. He was trying to have a really special dinner with His friends the night before His death. One of those moments I imagine akin to your children leaving home when you ask yourself, “What else do I need to say? Did I forget to tell them something they need to know before they are out on their own?”
There were the usual truth bombs, “One of you will betray me.” I tell you, the drama these guys could get up to was a rival for some of the stories my middle school daughter comes home with.
Then the cryptic chat, “Take eat, this is my Body broken for you.” But He was sitting there whole and in one piece.
“I will not drink from this cup until we drink it together in Heaven.” So, is that happening tonight? Tomorrow? Are we going with you?
Then my favorite part of this story, John 13:1 (NIV 1984)
“Having loved his own who were in the world, he now showed them the full extent of his love…Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God; so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him. (NIV)
Humility, to those who were undeserving of its expression perhaps, was the way Jesus showed them the full extent of His Love. He knew He had been given all the power. He knew where He came from and where He was headed, so human opinion, and reputation, and lording leadership didn’t matter. He was free. Unbound.
Free to show humility as a way of Love.
And in doing so took away every excuse we have not to do the same. If Jesus, the very creator of our soul and architect of our breath, feels He has no reason not to be loving through humility, then I surely don’t.
So then, why is it so so hard to do?
In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:
Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage;
rather, he made himself nothing
by taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
by becoming obedient to death—
even death on a cross! (Phil 2/NIV)
In our relationships, we are to drop the ideas we have around why we must maintain our dignity rather than our humility.
Jesus didn’t relinquish His power in order to be humble. He used His power in order to be humble. He knew who He belonged to, and acting in His deepest authenticity, who He really was, He chose to use that power to show the fullest extent of His Love toward us. And that extent is humility. Because that is what humility really looks like.
The fear of attempting humility is fraught with lies. And the lies say things like:
You will be hurt.
You won’t be able to heal.
You’ll be stuck.
You’ll be at their mercy.
They’ll think less of you.
They’ll hold it over you.
They’ll remind you of your weakness.
They’ll think they’re better than you.
You’ll be seen as less.
You won’t receive the grace you seek.
You won’t receive humility in return.
You won’t control the narrative.
Jesus knows this experience of battling lies. He also knows the victory of truth.
As I prayed about these lies that tell me humility comes at much too high a cost for me, here is what I felt the Truth of Jesus, saying about each lie I hear:
You will be hurt. You may be hurt. But I will be with you. Better to be hurt and trust Me with the pain than to inflict self-pain through protecting yourself.
You won’t be able to heal. You can heal from anything. You already have and you will again. In this world, you will have trouble. But chin-up, I’ve overcome the world for you. I can heal you.
You’ll be stuck. With your eyes firmly fixed on Me, you will always move forward. It might take some time, there’s always more going on than meets your eyes. But with trust and patience you’ll move ahead and not stay stuck forever.
You’ll be at their mercy. Every knee bows and every tongue confesses to Me eventually and that is done in many different ways. You belong to Me. You are mine. You are my beloved child. You are not at anyone’s mercy. IAM at all times and in all ways, in control. You are under my Divine protection.
They’ll think less of you.What someone thinks of you is a curious alchemy of truths and lies. The truths are places you must own so that nothing masters you. The lies you must leave to me to deal with. Their own fears and truths are mixed up in there as well, and You are not qualified to go poking about in their personal rabble. Sure, for a brief and painful moment they may think less of you. As your beloved mentor says, “Sometimes everything bothers some people, but their own sin.” Pride and self-righteousness are the gasoline to that fire. And you have your own burn marks in that regard. I’ll care for theirs.
They’ll hold it over you. Holding wrongs over another is an act of fear. It’s emotional collateral used in a moment of pain as a replacement for vulnerability. You know this all too well, as you’ve substituted wrongs remembered for emotional protection as well. Choose Love instead. Its Power keeps no record of wrongs. Nor do I. Don’t place your energy in worry and fear of something being held over you. I can work through that even in the hardest of hearts.
They’ll remind you of your weakness. They don’t need to remind you of your weakness for you to know its presence. It’s your own shame of the very weakness I want to be strong through that causes you to fear exposure and reminders. Reminding another of their weakness is just a way of deflecting one’s own. I can be found there in those places too.
They’ll think they’re better than you. Pride tells us we are better than another as a way of avoiding having to look upon the pain humans inflict intentionally and unintentionally upon others. Ego is very bruised to know it’s not as good or as strong as it needs to believe it is. These are shadows of the self that need the Light of my Love.
You’ll be seen as less. Do you see yourself as less? That is perhaps the greater question here. You know you are fallible. You know you are capable of hurting others and of missing the mark—the mark of Love. Your personal humility is the real antidote to being seen as less than. And your personhood founded in Me is its cure.
You won’t receive the grace you seek. Grace is Mine to give. When grace is withheld by another, there is a much deeper pain at play. One that goes deeper than the exchange between your heart and theirs. That withholding is a lack of mercy and a misguided desire for self-protection. This isn’t your work to do in them, it’s Mine.
You won’t receive humility in return. So many of these lies are deep within the one whose response you fear. It’s completely out of your purview. Their responses do not equal safety for your heart. They do not guarantee the relief you seem to think you’ll find there.
You won’t control the narrative. You never control the narrative. Narratives are a soup of one’s experiences, beliefs, untruths. Their purpose is to protect the wounded self, the false self as you call it. I AM the narrative. The narrative you are actually looking for. My narrative provides the Way. My narrative unveils the Truth. My narrative gives you Life. I AM the oxygen your soul needs.
I can make all this right for you, if you will let Me.
Trusting Jesus, His example, and His love is the best foundation to build humility upon. It is the soil our souls need in order to grow and mature.
I can always trust Him to do what’s right.
His Love unlocks the chains fear depends upon to keep us bound to the boxes we naively believe hold the answers to how never to hurt again.
So I offer you my box Sweet Jesus
Take it so tenderly, please
Hold it softly in your care.
For of it, I no longer have need.
I’ll probably return someday
And ask to see it again
Just lovingly refuse me I ask
And offer instead Your hand.
Come with me to the Isle of Iona on Pilgrimage in April 2025.
Embark on a transformative journey during Holy Week 2025, to the Isle of Iona, nestled in the serene Inner Hebrides of Scotland. This ancient land is a sanctuary where the veil between the physical and spiritual worlds is thin.
A spectacular experience for the contemplative soul, we invite you to join us on a pilgrimage to Iona, where the whispers of history, spirituality, and nature intertwine to create a deeply moving experience.
Registration is now open for those on the Interest List and my Substack Readers. It will open to a wider audience soon. Click here for all the details, costs, and registration.
Thanks, Amy. I needed the reminder. May I remember to rest in the grace, and respond with vulnerable humility.