Love is Vulnerable

By: Ted Harro

When I got married at the tender age of 21, I was pretty excited about getting naked. I thought that was the fun and easy part of marriage.

Then we actually got married. 

Sure, the physically naked thing had both its joys and challenges. (Note to our sons if you’re reading this: while this post already acknowledged the reality of nakedness and indirectly acknowledges the existence of sex, the rest of this post does not directly discuss your parents’ sex life. You can continue reading without feeling too awkward.)

Like most couples, we discovered that marriage asks you to do something more challenging than take your clothes off. It asks you to take your masks off. 

Love is vulnerable

That’s because, while love creates safety, it also asks you to do one of the most dangerous things anyone can do. It asks you to be real. And real is risky. 

This invitation to taking off your mask can come at the most unexpected moments. It’s when your spouse notices that you’re distant or bummed out. It’s when you have a lousy day at work. It’s when you compare yourself to the other person in your neighborhood and feel small. It’s when you’re awake in the middle of the night for the third time with your toddler, cleaning up another pile of puke. 

It feels safer to hide from each other, to not show each other when you’re feeling something that seems weak. This is why so many of us (especially men) act angry or happy when we’re really sad or scared or ashamed. Angry is strong. Happy is invulnerable.

Once again, Jesus shows us the way to love. You may know the story in John 6 when Jesus has just given a teaching that has repelled many casual fans. Instead of following him, they’re leaving in droves.

He looks at his inner circle disciples and asks a very human question: “How about you? Are you going to leave me too?”

I don’t hear bravado in that question. I hear vulnerability. Openness. Risk. He knows that love and friendship is a choice. 

That’s love. It trusts enough to take a risk. It removes masks. It sees the possibility of being hurt and decides to take a chance anyway. Because love wants to connect and is willing to pay the price of vulnerability to make it possible. 

My dad, who knew a thing or two about love, found a poem about the risky business of love in the Sunday School materials he was given to teach a bunch of 7th and 8th grade boys. He ended up carrying a handwritten copy of that poem in his wallet until the day he died. It goes like this.

Hazard
Author unknown

All growth is trouble.
If comfort is your need,
Better to sleep
Curled round yourself forever,
Shelled with indifference,
Like an unsown seed.

 All love is trouble.
Once you give your heart
To anything, to anyone at all,
You are made vulnerable
In every part.
To be at peace in love,
At peace and free,
Is the hope of fools.
If fool you be,
Curl snugly round yourself
Like a smooth stone
That cannot bleed
Or put forth leaves
Or know
What the great have known.

We all at times feel like staying curled up, safe as a stone, impervious.  But the reward of risk, of allowing ourselves to be known by our spouse, is the joy of acceptance without reservation, the wholeness of belonging.

You can take steps toward this kind of emotional openness. Here’s how. This week:

• Take some time each night to check in with each other. 
• As you talk through your day, notice when you might be holding something back from your spouse. Pay attention to the feeling behind your hesitation. Often we hold back when we’re experiencing sadness, fear, or shame.
• Take a risk. Share what happened and how you feel about it. If you need words for your tiny, little feelings, feel free to use this Feeling Word Cheat Sheet.
• If your spouse opens up to you, don’t worry about fixing their feelings. Just listen. Show them you’re with them.