I don't know a single person on this planet who would say that there is nothing more they desire than to be vulnerable, exposed, and comepletely ok with taking a risk that may involve their heart being trampled on. Infact, if anyone ever said that to you, I guarantee your response would be a look that made them feel as though their height barely reached the two-inch mark. No one ever says that they're ok with the vulnerability, with their heart being buried alive and someone dancing on its grave, no one ever says something like that.
What if I were to tell you that, even though no one thinks that way, or feels that way, they must be willing for their heart to undergo that risk in order to truly love? And what a risk it is!
I suppose that what I am trying to say is that this is the risk that I have recently had to face, in all of my relationships. Our relationship with God, friends and family all involve this risk. Fortunately, the relationship with God is one that is guaranteed, even in the midst of our most horrible sins. But even with that guarantee, we are so scared, so worried about that risk. Even when it comes to our relationship with the all-powerful, almighty God, we would rather have control, we'd rather call the shots. But it is not necessarily this relationship with God that I am anxious about, but rather with friends.
Take, for instance, the girls on my hall. I am already so attached, I have already risked so much, but it is simply a fact of life that we all move on, and things change from year to year, especially here, at LU. This being said, I find I have been pulling away from them more and more for fear that next year I will not be able to see them, be near to them. In order for my relationship and bond to grow with them, however, I would have to set aside that fear, and love them unconditionally, even if one of those conditions is the reality that I may not ever see them again after this year...
I suppose that everything that I am trying to say can be summed up in this quote by C.S. Lewis and resolved by a lot of prayer:
“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”
Sure, we can choose to not love, to not be vulnerable, but then, what use would that love that God has gifted us with have on His work and His kingdom? His glory is more magnified when we love as He loved: unconditionally, always pursuing and vulnerable.
I suppose I can leave you with this last thought: can you imagine how God feels everytime his vulnerable and unconditional love is rejected?