Something stirred deep in my belly as I stared at those notes…
Authenticity. Vulnerability. Community.
3 simple words that carry so much life and freedom.
And fear.
We fear exposure and rejection so fiercely, we’re willing to avoid it altogether.
What does it actually mean to be authentic?
Why do we struggle so desperately with allowing ourselves to be seen? To be vulnerable?
And how does this effect our ability to connect with others and honestly experience community life?
When our identity is wounded, often at a much younger age than we realize, shame tightens its grip on our souls and slowly our ability to be authentic or vulnerable in community is crippled.
We wear masks and we hide. It’s been our M.O. since the beginning of time. In the same way brokenness and shame drove Adam and Eve into hiding, we allow our awareness of our own brokenness to secure masks over our own messy humanness.
“Somewhere along the journey we believe the lie that who or what we are is inherently broken…”, I had scribbled in my notes, “…and we learn to cover that deep sense of inadequacy – and the shame that accompanies it – with a performance”.
And it’s in this hiding that we lose our ability to be who we were created to be, where we were created to be it, and alongside those we were created to be with.
We rob the world of the gift we were uniquely created to offer
because we believe we’re too broken and inadequate to offer it.
And the whole world feels the loss.
I knew as I prepared for this event that something needed to be different. I needed a visual that could communicate the importance of stepping into one’s true identity, and how crucial that brave step is to embracing one’s place in the bigger picture.
I wanted to capture the beauty and profound human ache to be a part of something bigger.
As I swept paint on paper, He emerged.
Never with the intention of remaining unbroken, for His purpose was to be shattered and then made whole again.
And this is where we come in.
In a mingling of vulnerability and passion, a creative blending of courage and purpose.
Unique and mysterious.
Colorful and incomplete.
As we allow Him to dip our lives in the paint of His grace, He creates for the world a mosaic of His goodness.
Through us.
As the first session came to a close, I asked the women to write one of their favorite things about the way God had made them on their tile. It was as hard a task as I imagined it would be.
Had I asked for 10 things they disliked about themselves, it would have been easy. For we are expert fault-finders. And this is exactly the problem.
As they wrote their words on these mysteriously colored tiles, I was struck by how God’s fingerprints were emerging in the details.
As the 84 pieces were carefully reassembled, His intricate involvement in the small things was evident.
One woman appreciated her ability to “see the world through rose colored glasses“…written on a portion of His eye.
Another noted her “good memory”…her tile landing above the eyes on His forehead.
Another’s sense of humor, by His mouth.
An ability to love others without judgement…scribbled on the shawl that covered Him.
Precious ones, if we’re willing to step out of fear and out of shame…if we’re willing to embrace who we were created to be, imperfect as we are…we will find ourselves free to step into authentic community, uniquely positioned to do life bravely and wholeheartedly together.
When we embrace our place in the body, we help paint a picture of the Savior to a hurting, broken world.
You’re right there, friend.
In the mosaic of His grace. Own it.
