The Power of Vulnerability Lent 3A-17 John 4: 1-30, 39-42 March 19, 2017 The Power of Vulnerability It s been two and half weeks sixteen days, not counting Sundays that you and I have been traversing the wilderness of Lent. As we explored two weeks ago, more than anything else, Lent really seeks to push us into the metaphorical wilderness not so we ll suddenly find ourselves lost and forsaken, but that we ll find ourselves stripped of the pretenses and facades we carry and so be freed to uncover, once again, exactly who and whose we really are. Take it seriously the wandering and wondering of Lent and you ll quickly realize that Lent calls us to something altogether uncomfortable vulnerability. It s hard to walk without the facades that feel so familiar. Just as it can be frightening to be seen as we really are. It s why one of the most common dreams people tend to have is the underwear dream. Or the naked dream. A dream where you find yourself in a public or social event maybe at school or work or amid a social engagement in which you re interacting with others, and you suddenly realize you re not wearing any clothes. Now, not everyone has had this kind of dream. But many, many have. Including myself. And I can tell you, there s a pretty significant sigh and even a good chuckle when you wake up from it. But there s also a lesson to be learned from these dreams, as psychologists suggest this type of dream is so common because of our all-too-human fear of being vulnerable. Our fear of being unshielded. Our egos and identities unprotected. As if we can t stand the thought of being laid bare just as we are with our secrets revealed our wounds and scars in plain sight our past out in the open for everyone to examine. Rather than simply being ourselves as vulnerable as that may be we ve learned to project an image we want others to see. About five years ago, Ted asked me to go have a beer with him. Ted and his wife, Linda, had been family friends of ours for a few years at the time. In addition to getting together for family dinners, our kids would occasionally play together and we d babysit for each other in a pinch. Melissa and I really liked them and still do, even if our geographical distance has changed. So when Ted extended the invitation, I was more than happy to have a beer with a buddy. But I wasn t prepared for what Ted needed to talk about. Rob, I ve never told anyone this, and I m not sure how to talk about it. What s up? I asked. You know I love Linda, he said. I know. Well, here s the thing. We haven t been a real couple for years now. What do you mean?
We live together; we parent the kids together; we even socialize with friends together; but at home, he explained, at home it s really hard. We have separate bedrooms; we don t speak to each other if the kids aren t around; and while we care about each other, we ve agreed to stay together until the kids are both in college and then we ll get a divorce. But it s just gotten so hard, he said. It s just become so, so hard. I tried hard to listen to my friend. To hear him explain the breakdown within their relationship. To hear him confess that neither of them had told anyone as far as he knew including their own parents and siblings lest word somehow make it back to folks they didn t want to know including their kids. Eventually, I said something like, Ted, my gosh. I m so sorry. I had no idea. I know, he replied. We re really good at faking it. I wish you didn t feel like you have to fake it. And then, with a bit of a chuckle, he said, Fakebook helps. Fakebook? With a k? I d never heard the term before. Yeah Fakebook. All it is is a place for folks to project fake images of themselves they want others to perceive. Nobody s ever exactly who they say they are on Facebook. I realized then and there that much of what I knew about Ted was not just from our personal interactions, but also from his family s Facebook pictures and posts pictures and posts they put up there to form an idealized version of themselves a version they wanted family and friends and co-workers to see lest others know the truth about their family. A family I still very much cared for whether their marriage was beautiful or broken. As I drove home, my heart broke for my friends. Not just because of the pain they experienced within their marriage, but because of the pain that stemmed from constantly trying to project an image. The exhaustion they must ve felt from perpetually wearing this façade to shield others from seeing the truth inside. Now, as I share their story, I readily admit that I am no stranger to wearing various façades of my own. I ve carried more than a couple of masks around in my day, pretending to be something I m not; or hiding things I d rather not come to life. Frankly, I suspect you have, too. For this world has taught most people to carry some kind of cover in order to be seen not as they are, but as they want to be perceived as if who they are is not enough. In an article titled Three Big Lessons Harvard Never Taught Me, Forbes writer Shaun Rein shares that the biggest lesson he learned from his time at Harvard was nothing he learned as a student, but what he learned from his students as a member of the faculty. Every day students would come to my office overlooking Harvard Yard, and we d usually end up talking about more than just (their studies). We d discuss their hopes and, more often than not, their fears. They were afraid of not keeping up with their peers and not living up to their parents expectations.
They felt this way pretty much the board. Rich kids and legacies thought they d gotten there because of their families; minority students worried they were there because of their skin color; brains from humble backgrounds worried they weren t rich enough to be there. As their teacher, I could see that they all deserved to be there for different reasons. But they themselves couldn t easily gauge how their work measured up against others, and this fed their insecurities. 1 And it s not just students who feel this way. A survey published in 2015 by the Harvard Business Review found that the number one fear among 116 of the nation s top CEO s and management executives is the fear of being found incompetent. 2 Now keep in mind these are the crème de la crème in the business world and their number one fear is not losing money it s not lack of production or quality of outcome or being sued or anything of the sort. Their largest fear was being found incompetent. It s what known as the imposter s syndrome, or the fraud syndrome, a term used to describe feelings of inadequacy 3 even in the face of evidence to the contrary. Doesn t matter if you if you get in to Harvard your classmates will soon discover you don t really belong. Doesn t matter if you get promoted to vice-president of a multi-national corporation you faked your way there and now you don t know what you ll do. Doesn t matter if your students go on to graduate school and live successful lives you were never a very good teacher, or maybe they were all just really good kids. Doesn t matter if your friends all seem to like you if they knew the real you they wouldn t want to be your friend. You know, I was taken aback when Ted opened up to me. But I shouldn t have been. As a pastor, I ve been invited in to quite a few deeply held secrets. From spouses who ve had an affair, to adults sharing something they had done as a child that no one ever knew about, to people living with a terminal illness but unwilling to share the news and so receive support. And the list goes on. For the truth is, friends, we all carry secrets. Secret wounds we don t want others to see, lest they strike us where we re already vulnerable. Secret shames we don t want others to see, lest they judge us for being less than they perceive us to be. I have them. You have them. But God doesn t want us living the rest of our lives worried what will happen if others see the real us. Nor does God want us living the rest of our lives with the various facades that weigh us down and depress our very souls. God knows all our secrets. God sees all are wounds. 1 Shaun Rein, https://www.forbes.com/2010/06/07/harvard-education-lessons-leadership-careers-rein.html 2 Roger Jones, https://hbr.org/2015/02/what-ceos-are-afraid-of 3 https://counseling.caltech.edu/general/infoandresources/impostor
God knows all our shames. And God still reaches out to us coming to us in God s own vulnerability, saying, I love you, I love you just as you are, and hope you might love me, too. The scene Carol and Joel acted out from John s gospel it s really a microcosm of the authenticity and vulnerability to which God is perpetually inviting us. Societal rules said Jews must not just ignore Samaritans but avoid them whenever possible for they were ethnically impure and thought the holy site of God was on Mt. Gerizim and not Jerusalem. On top of that, societal rules said a Jewish man should not be speaking with a woman in public. But Jesus did both of these things out in the open asking the Samaritan woman her for a drink. For he did not see her as a Samaritan woman. He saw her for who she was a beloved child of God. He saw the five husbands she had all the abandonment she had surely faced all the hardships she d undoubtedly endured all the shame society had heaped upon her He saw her just as she was and made himself vulnerable to society s stigma and also to her own rejection as he asked her for something a drink. She, in turn, made herself vulnerable to him, not hiding from a past she knew she couldn t deny, but welcoming a stranger, and in the process, receiving a gift she didn t request and could never repay. There s freedom in that, friends. Freedom and fullness that sent the woman at the well running back to her village leaving behind her water jug filled with the wounds and secrets she would carry no more! No more ashamed of who she was or what she he done, she felt lighter than she had in decades. Her feet hardly touched the ground she was felt so light and free. Come and see a man who s told me everything I ve ever done and loves me! Come and see a man who s told me everything I ve ever done and loves me! It s been two and half weeks. 16 days (not counting Sundays). It s time to be real. It s time to be vulnerable. The world needs our authenticity. And so, too, do we.
The Power of Vulnerability Lent 3A-17 John 4: 1-30, 39-42 March 19, 2017 The Power of Vulnerability It s been two and half weeks sixteen days, not counting Sundays that you and I have been traversing the wilderness of Lent. As we explored two weeks ago, more than anything else, Lent really seeks to push us into the metaphorical wilderness not so we ll suddenly find ourselves lost and forsaken, but that we ll find ourselves stripped of the pretenses and facades we carry and so be freed to uncover, once again, exactly who and whose we really are. Take it seriously the wandering and wondering of Lent and you ll quickly realize that Lent calls us to something altogether uncomfortable vulnerability. It s hard to walk without the facades that feel so familiar. Just as it can be frightening to be seen as we really are. It s why one of the most common dreams people tend to have is the underwear dream. Or the naked dream. A dream where you find yourself in a public or social event maybe at school or work or amid a social engagement in which you re interacting with others, and you suddenly realize you re not wearing any clothes. Now, not everyone has had this kind of dream. But many, many have. Including myself. And I can tell you, there s a pretty significant sigh and even a good chuckle when you wake up from it. But there s also a lesson to be learned from these dreams, as psychologists suggest this type of dream is so common because of our all-too-human fear of being vulnerable. Our fear of being unshielded. Our egos and identities unprotected. As if we can t stand the thought of being laid bare just as we are with our secrets revealed our wounds and scars in plain sight our past out in the open for everyone to examine. Rather than simply being ourselves as vulnerable as that may be we ve learned to project an image we want others to see. About five years ago, Ted asked me to go have a beer with him. Ted and his wife, Linda, had been family friends of ours for a few years at the time. In addition to getting together for family dinners, our kids would occasionally play together and we d babysit for each other in a pinch. Melissa and I really liked them and still do, even if our geographical distance has changed. So when Ted extended the invitation, I was more than happy to have a beer with a buddy. But I wasn t prepared for what Ted needed to talk about. Rob, I ve never told anyone this, and I m not sure how to talk about it. What s up? I asked. You know I love Linda, he said. I know. Well, here s the thing. We haven t been a real couple for years now. What do you mean?
We live together; we parent the kids together; we even socialize with friends together; but at home, he explained, at home it s really hard. We have separate bedrooms; we don t speak to each other if the kids aren t around; and while we care about each other, we ve agreed to stay together until the kids are both in college and then we ll get a divorce. But it s just gotten so hard, he said. It s just become so, so hard. I tried hard to listen to my friend. To hear him explain the breakdown within their relationship. To hear him confess that neither of them had told anyone as far as he knew including their own parents and siblings lest word somehow make it back to folks they didn t want to know including their kids. Eventually, I said something like, Ted, my gosh. I m so sorry. I had no idea. I know, he replied. We re really good at faking it. I wish you didn t feel like you have to fake it. And then, with a bit of a chuckle, he said, Fakebook helps. Fakebook? With a k? I d never heard the term before. Yeah Fakebook. All it is is a place for folks to project fake images of themselves they want others to perceive. Nobody s ever exactly who they say they are on Facebook. I realized then and there that much of what I knew about Ted was not just from our personal interactions, but also from his family s Facebook pictures and posts pictures and posts they put up there to form an idealized version of themselves a version they wanted family and friends and co-workers to see lest others know the truth about their family. A family I still very much cared for whether their marriage was beautiful or broken. As I drove home, my heart broke for my friends. Not just because of the pain they experienced within their marriage, but because of the pain that stemmed from constantly trying to project an image. The exhaustion they must ve felt from perpetually wearing this façade to shield others from seeing the truth inside. Now, as I share their story, I readily admit that I am no stranger to wearing various façades of my own. I ve carried more than a couple of masks around in my day, pretending to be something I m not; or hiding things I d rather not come to life. Frankly, I suspect you have, too. For this world has taught most people to carry some kind of cover in order to be seen not as they are, but as they want to be perceived as if who they are is not enough. In an article titled Three Big Lessons Harvard Never Taught Me, Forbes writer Shaun Rein shares that the biggest lesson he learned from his time at Harvard was nothing he learned as a student, but what he learned from his students as a member of the faculty. Every day students would come to my office overlooking Harvard Yard, and we d usually end up talking about more than just (their studies). We d discuss their hopes and, more often than not, their fears. They were afraid of not keeping up with their peers and not living up to their parents expectations.
They felt this way pretty much the board. Rich kids and legacies thought they d gotten there because of their families; minority students worried they were there because of their skin color; brains from humble backgrounds worried they weren t rich enough to be there. As their teacher, I could see that they all deserved to be there for different reasons. But they themselves couldn t easily gauge how their work measured up against others, and this fed their insecurities. 1 And it s not just students who feel this way. A survey published in 2015 by the Harvard Business Review found that the number one fear among 116 of the nation s top CEO s and management executives is the fear of being found incompetent. 2 Now keep in mind these are the crème de la crème in the business world and their number one fear is not losing money it s not lack of production or quality of outcome or being sued or anything of the sort. Their largest fear was being found incompetent. It s what known as the imposter s syndrome, or the fraud syndrome, a term used to describe feelings of inadequacy 3 even in the face of evidence to the contrary. Doesn t matter if you if you get in to Harvard your classmates will soon discover you don t really belong. Doesn t matter if you get promoted to vice-president of a multi-national corporation you faked your way there and now you don t know what you ll do. Doesn t matter if your students go on to graduate school and live successful lives you were never a very good teacher, or maybe they were all just really good kids. Doesn t matter if your friends all seem to like you if they knew the real you they wouldn t want to be your friend. You know, I was taken aback when Ted opened up to me. But I shouldn t have been. As a pastor, I ve been invited in to quite a few deeply held secrets. From spouses who ve had an affair, to adults sharing something they had done as a child that no one ever knew about, to people living with a terminal illness but unwilling to share the news and so receive support. And the list goes on. For the truth is, friends, we all carry secrets. Secret wounds we don t want others to see, lest they strike us where we re already vulnerable. Secret shames we don t want others to see, lest they judge us for being less than they perceive us to be. I have them. You have them. But God doesn t want us living the rest of our lives worried what will happen if others see the real us. Nor does God want us living the rest of our lives with the various facades that weigh us down and depress our very souls. God knows all our secrets. God sees all are wounds. 1 Shaun Rein, https://www.forbes.com/2010/06/07/harvard-education-lessons-leadership-careers-rein.html 2 Roger Jones, https://hbr.org/2015/02/what-ceos-are-afraid-of 3 https://counseling.caltech.edu/general/infoandresources/impostor
God knows all our shames. And God still reaches out to us coming to us in God s own vulnerability, saying, I love you, I love you just as you are, and hope you might love me, too. The scene Carol and Joel acted out from John s gospel it s really a microcosm of the authenticity and vulnerability to which God is perpetually inviting us. Societal rules said Jews must not just ignore Samaritans but avoid them whenever possible for they were ethnically impure and thought the holy site of God was on Mt. Gerizim and not Jerusalem. On top of that, societal rules said a Jewish man should not be speaking with a woman in public. But Jesus did both of these things out in the open asking the Samaritan woman her for a drink. For he did not see her as a Samaritan woman. He saw her for who she was a beloved child of God. He saw the five husbands she had all the abandonment she had surely faced all the hardships she d undoubtedly endured all the shame society had heaped upon her He saw her just as she was and made himself vulnerable to society s stigma and also to her own rejection as he asked her for something a drink. She, in turn, made herself vulnerable to him, not hiding from a past she knew she couldn t deny, but welcoming a stranger, and in the process, receiving a gift she didn t request and could never repay. There s freedom in that, friends. Freedom and fullness that sent the woman at the well running back to her village leaving behind her water jug filled with the wounds and secrets she would carry no more! No more ashamed of who she was or what she he done, she felt lighter than she had in decades. Her feet hardly touched the ground she was felt so light and free. Come and see a man who s told me everything I ve ever done and loves me! Come and see a man who s told me everything I ve ever done and loves me! It s been two and half weeks. 16 days (not counting Sundays). It s time to be real. It s time to be vulnerable. The world needs our authenticity. And so, too, do we.
The Power of Vulnerability Lent 3A-17 John 4: 1-30, 39-42 March 19, 2017 The Power of Vulnerability It s been two and half weeks sixteen days, not counting Sundays that you and I have been traversing the wilderness of Lent. As we explored two weeks ago, more than anything else, Lent really seeks to push us into the metaphorical wilderness not so we ll suddenly find ourselves lost and forsaken, but that we ll find ourselves stripped of the pretenses and facades we carry and so be freed to uncover, once again, exactly who and whose we really are. Take it seriously the wandering and wondering of Lent and you ll quickly realize that Lent calls us to something altogether uncomfortable vulnerability. It s hard to walk without the facades that feel so familiar. Just as it can be frightening to be seen as we really are. It s why one of the most common dreams people tend to have is the underwear dream. Or the naked dream. A dream where you find yourself in a public or social event maybe at school or work or amid a social engagement in which you re interacting with others, and you suddenly realize you re not wearing any clothes. Now, not everyone has had this kind of dream. But many, many have. Including myself. And I can tell you, there s a pretty significant sigh and even a good chuckle when you wake up from it. But there s also a lesson to be learned from these dreams, as psychologists suggest this type of dream is so common because of our all-too-human fear of being vulnerable. Our fear of being unshielded. Our egos and identities unprotected. As if we can t stand the thought of being laid bare just as we are with our secrets revealed our wounds and scars in plain sight our past out in the open for everyone to examine. Rather than simply being ourselves as vulnerable as that may be we ve learned to project an image we want others to see. About five years ago, Ted asked me to go have a beer with him. Ted and his wife, Linda, had been family friends of ours for a few years at the time. In addition to getting together for family dinners, our kids would occasionally play together and we d babysit for each other in a pinch. Melissa and I really liked them and still do, even if our geographical distance has changed. So when Ted extended the invitation, I was more than happy to have a beer with a buddy. But I wasn t prepared for what Ted needed to talk about. Rob, I ve never told anyone this, and I m not sure how to talk about it. What s up? I asked. You know I love Linda, he said. I know. Well, here s the thing. We haven t been a real couple for years now. What do you mean?
We live together; we parent the kids together; we even socialize with friends together; but at home, he explained, at home it s really hard. We have separate bedrooms; we don t speak to each other if the kids aren t around; and while we care about each other, we ve agreed to stay together until the kids are both in college and then we ll get a divorce. But it s just gotten so hard, he said. It s just become so, so hard. I tried hard to listen to my friend. To hear him explain the breakdown within their relationship. To hear him confess that neither of them had told anyone as far as he knew including their own parents and siblings lest word somehow make it back to folks they didn t want to know including their kids. Eventually, I said something like, Ted, my gosh. I m so sorry. I had no idea. I know, he replied. We re really good at faking it. I wish you didn t feel like you have to fake it. And then, with a bit of a chuckle, he said, Fakebook helps. Fakebook? With a k? I d never heard the term before. Yeah Fakebook. All it is is a place for folks to project fake images of themselves they want others to perceive. Nobody s ever exactly who they say they are on Facebook. I realized then and there that much of what I knew about Ted was not just from our personal interactions, but also from his family s Facebook pictures and posts pictures and posts they put up there to form an idealized version of themselves a version they wanted family and friends and co-workers to see lest others know the truth about their family. A family I still very much cared for whether their marriage was beautiful or broken. As I drove home, my heart broke for my friends. Not just because of the pain they experienced within their marriage, but because of the pain that stemmed from constantly trying to project an image. The exhaustion they must ve felt from perpetually wearing this façade to shield others from seeing the truth inside. Now, as I share their story, I readily admit that I am no stranger to wearing various façades of my own. I ve carried more than a couple of masks around in my day, pretending to be something I m not; or hiding things I d rather not come to life. Frankly, I suspect you have, too. For this world has taught most people to carry some kind of cover in order to be seen not as they are, but as they want to be perceived as if who they are is not enough. In an article titled Three Big Lessons Harvard Never Taught Me, Forbes writer Shaun Rein shares that the biggest lesson he learned from his time at Harvard was nothing he learned as a student, but what he learned from his students as a member of the faculty. Every day students would come to my office overlooking Harvard Yard, and we d usually end up talking about more than just (their studies). We d discuss their hopes and, more often than not, their fears. They were afraid of not keeping up with their peers and not living up to their parents expectations.
They felt this way pretty much the board. Rich kids and legacies thought they d gotten there because of their families; minority students worried they were there because of their skin color; brains from humble backgrounds worried they weren t rich enough to be there. As their teacher, I could see that they all deserved to be there for different reasons. But they themselves couldn t easily gauge how their work measured up against others, and this fed their insecurities. 1 And it s not just students who feel this way. A survey published in 2015 by the Harvard Business Review found that the number one fear among 116 of the nation s top CEO s and management executives is the fear of being found incompetent. 2 Now keep in mind these are the crème de la crème in the business world and their number one fear is not losing money it s not lack of production or quality of outcome or being sued or anything of the sort. Their largest fear was being found incompetent. It s what known as the imposter s syndrome, or the fraud syndrome, a term used to describe feelings of inadequacy 3 even in the face of evidence to the contrary. Doesn t matter if you if you get in to Harvard your classmates will soon discover you don t really belong. Doesn t matter if you get promoted to vice-president of a multi-national corporation you faked your way there and now you don t know what you ll do. Doesn t matter if your students go on to graduate school and live successful lives you were never a very good teacher, or maybe they were all just really good kids. Doesn t matter if your friends all seem to like you if they knew the real you they wouldn t want to be your friend. You know, I was taken aback when Ted opened up to me. But I shouldn t have been. As a pastor, I ve been invited in to quite a few deeply held secrets. From spouses who ve had an affair, to adults sharing something they had done as a child that no one ever knew about, to people living with a terminal illness but unwilling to share the news and so receive support. And the list goes on. For the truth is, friends, we all carry secrets. Secret wounds we don t want others to see, lest they strike us where we re already vulnerable. Secret shames we don t want others to see, lest they judge us for being less than they perceive us to be. I have them. You have them. But God doesn t want us living the rest of our lives worried what will happen if others see the real us. Nor does God want us living the rest of our lives with the various facades that weigh us down and depress our very souls. God knows all our secrets. God sees all are wounds. 1 Shaun Rein, https://www.forbes.com/2010/06/07/harvard-education-lessons-leadership-careers-rein.html 2 Roger Jones, https://hbr.org/2015/02/what-ceos-are-afraid-of 3 https://counseling.caltech.edu/general/infoandresources/impostor
God knows all our shames. And God still reaches out to us coming to us in God s own vulnerability, saying, I love you, I love you just as you are, and hope you might love me, too. The scene Carol and Joel acted out from John s gospel it s really a microcosm of the authenticity and vulnerability to which God is perpetually inviting us. Societal rules said Jews must not just ignore Samaritans but avoid them whenever possible for they were ethnically impure and thought the holy site of God was on Mt. Gerizim and not Jerusalem. On top of that, societal rules said a Jewish man should not be speaking with a woman in public. But Jesus did both of these things out in the open asking the Samaritan woman her for a drink. For he did not see her as a Samaritan woman. He saw her for who she was a beloved child of God. He saw the five husbands she had all the abandonment she had surely faced all the hardships she d undoubtedly endured all the shame society had heaped upon her He saw her just as she was and made himself vulnerable to society s stigma and also to her own rejection as he asked her for something a drink. She, in turn, made herself vulnerable to him, not hiding from a past she knew she couldn t deny, but welcoming a stranger, and in the process, receiving a gift she didn t request and could never repay. There s freedom in that, friends. Freedom and fullness that sent the woman at the well running back to her village leaving behind her water jug filled with the wounds and secrets she would carry no more! No more ashamed of who she was or what she he done, she felt lighter than she had in decades. Her feet hardly touched the ground she was felt so light and free. Come and see a man who s told me everything I ve ever done and loves me! Come and see a man who s told me everything I ve ever done and loves me! It s been two and half weeks. 16 days (not counting Sundays). It s time to be real. It s time to be vulnerable. The world needs our authenticity. And so, too, do we.
The Power of Vulnerability Lent 3A-17 John 4: 1-30, 39-42 March 19, 2017 The Power of Vulnerability It s been two and half weeks sixteen days, not counting Sundays that you and I have been traversing the wilderness of Lent. As we explored two weeks ago, more than anything else, Lent really seeks to push us into the metaphorical wilderness not so we ll suddenly find ourselves lost and forsaken, but that we ll find ourselves stripped of the pretenses and facades we carry and so be freed to uncover, once again, exactly who and whose we really are. Take it seriously the wandering and wondering of Lent and you ll quickly realize that Lent calls us to something altogether uncomfortable vulnerability. It s hard to walk without the facades that feel so familiar. Just as it can be frightening to be seen as we really are. It s why one of the most common dreams people tend to have is the underwear dream. Or the naked dream. A dream where you find yourself in a public or social event maybe at school or work or amid a social engagement in which you re interacting with others, and you suddenly realize you re not wearing any clothes. Now, not everyone has had this kind of dream. But many, many have. Including myself. And I can tell you, there s a pretty significant sigh and even a good chuckle when you wake up from it. But there s also a lesson to be learned from these dreams, as psychologists suggest this type of dream is so common because of our all-too-human fear of being vulnerable. Our fear of being unshielded. Our egos and identities unprotected. As if we can t stand the thought of being laid bare just as we are with our secrets revealed our wounds and scars in plain sight our past out in the open for everyone to examine. Rather than simply being ourselves as vulnerable as that may be we ve learned to project an image we want others to see. About five years ago, Ted asked me to go have a beer with him. Ted and his wife, Linda, had been family friends of ours for a few years at the time. In addition to getting together for family dinners, our kids would occasionally play together and we d babysit for each other in a pinch. Melissa and I really liked them and still do, even if our geographical distance has changed. So when Ted extended the invitation, I was more than happy to have a beer with a buddy. But I wasn t prepared for what Ted needed to talk about. Rob, I ve never told anyone this, and I m not sure how to talk about it. What s up? I asked. You know I love Linda, he said. I know. Well, here s the thing. We haven t been a real couple for years now. What do you mean?
We live together; we parent the kids together; we even socialize with friends together; but at home, he explained, at home it s really hard. We have separate bedrooms; we don t speak to each other if the kids aren t around; and while we care about each other, we ve agreed to stay together until the kids are both in college and then we ll get a divorce. But it s just gotten so hard, he said. It s just become so, so hard. I tried hard to listen to my friend. To hear him explain the breakdown within their relationship. To hear him confess that neither of them had told anyone as far as he knew including their own parents and siblings lest word somehow make it back to folks they didn t want to know including their kids. Eventually, I said something like, Ted, my gosh. I m so sorry. I had no idea. I know, he replied. We re really good at faking it. I wish you didn t feel like you have to fake it. And then, with a bit of a chuckle, he said, Fakebook helps. Fakebook? With a k? I d never heard the term before. Yeah Fakebook. All it is is a place for folks to project fake images of themselves they want others to perceive. Nobody s ever exactly who they say they are on Facebook. I realized then and there that much of what I knew about Ted was not just from our personal interactions, but also from his family s Facebook pictures and posts pictures and posts they put up there to form an idealized version of themselves a version they wanted family and friends and co-workers to see lest others know the truth about their family. A family I still very much cared for whether their marriage was beautiful or broken. As I drove home, my heart broke for my friends. Not just because of the pain they experienced within their marriage, but because of the pain that stemmed from constantly trying to project an image. The exhaustion they must ve felt from perpetually wearing this façade to shield others from seeing the truth inside. Now, as I share their story, I readily admit that I am no stranger to wearing various façades of my own. I ve carried more than a couple of masks around in my day, pretending to be something I m not; or hiding things I d rather not come to life. Frankly, I suspect you have, too. For this world has taught most people to carry some kind of cover in order to be seen not as they are, but as they want to be perceived as if who they are is not enough. In an article titled Three Big Lessons Harvard Never Taught Me, Forbes writer Shaun Rein shares that the biggest lesson he learned from his time at Harvard was nothing he learned as a student, but what he learned from his students as a member of the faculty. Every day students would come to my office overlooking Harvard Yard, and we d usually end up talking about more than just (their studies). We d discuss their hopes and, more often than not, their fears. They were afraid of not keeping up with their peers and not living up to their parents expectations.
They felt this way pretty much the board. Rich kids and legacies thought they d gotten there because of their families; minority students worried they were there because of their skin color; brains from humble backgrounds worried they weren t rich enough to be there. As their teacher, I could see that they all deserved to be there for different reasons. But they themselves couldn t easily gauge how their work measured up against others, and this fed their insecurities. 1 And it s not just students who feel this way. A survey published in 2015 by the Harvard Business Review found that the number one fear among 116 of the nation s top CEO s and management executives is the fear of being found incompetent. 2 Now keep in mind these are the crème de la crème in the business world and their number one fear is not losing money it s not lack of production or quality of outcome or being sued or anything of the sort. Their largest fear was being found incompetent. It s what known as the imposter s syndrome, or the fraud syndrome, a term used to describe feelings of inadequacy 3 even in the face of evidence to the contrary. Doesn t matter if you if you get in to Harvard your classmates will soon discover you don t really belong. Doesn t matter if you get promoted to vice-president of a multi-national corporation you faked your way there and now you don t know what you ll do. Doesn t matter if your students go on to graduate school and live successful lives you were never a very good teacher, or maybe they were all just really good kids. Doesn t matter if your friends all seem to like you if they knew the real you they wouldn t want to be your friend. You know, I was taken aback when Ted opened up to me. But I shouldn t have been. As a pastor, I ve been invited in to quite a few deeply held secrets. From spouses who ve had an affair, to adults sharing something they had done as a child that no one ever knew about, to people living with a terminal illness but unwilling to share the news and so receive support. And the list goes on. For the truth is, friends, we all carry secrets. Secret wounds we don t want others to see, lest they strike us where we re already vulnerable. Secret shames we don t want others to see, lest they judge us for being less than they perceive us to be. I have them. You have them. But God doesn t want us living the rest of our lives worried what will happen if others see the real us. Nor does God want us living the rest of our lives with the various facades that weigh us down and depress our very souls. God knows all our secrets. God sees all are wounds. 1 Shaun Rein, https://www.forbes.com/2010/06/07/harvard-education-lessons-leadership-careers-rein.html 2 Roger Jones, https://hbr.org/2015/02/what-ceos-are-afraid-of 3 https://counseling.caltech.edu/general/infoandresources/impostor
God knows all our shames. And God still reaches out to us coming to us in God s own vulnerability, saying, I love you, I love you just as you are, and hope you might love me, too. The scene Carol and Joel acted out from John s gospel it s really a microcosm of the authenticity and vulnerability to which God is perpetually inviting us. Societal rules said Jews must not just ignore Samaritans but avoid them whenever possible for they were ethnically impure and thought the holy site of God was on Mt. Gerizim and not Jerusalem. On top of that, societal rules said a Jewish man should not be speaking with a woman in public. But Jesus did both of these things out in the open asking the Samaritan woman her for a drink. For he did not see her as a Samaritan woman. He saw her for who she was a beloved child of God. He saw the five husbands she had all the abandonment she had surely faced all the hardships she d undoubtedly endured all the shame society had heaped upon her He saw her just as she was and made himself vulnerable to society s stigma and also to her own rejection as he asked her for something a drink. She, in turn, made herself vulnerable to him, not hiding from a past she knew she couldn t deny, but welcoming a stranger, and in the process, receiving a gift she didn t request and could never repay. There s freedom in that, friends. Freedom and fullness that sent the woman at the well running back to her village leaving behind her water jug filled with the wounds and secrets she would carry no more! No more ashamed of who she was or what she he done, she felt lighter than she had in decades. Her feet hardly touched the ground she was felt so light and free. Come and see a man who s told me everything I ve ever done and loves me! Come and see a man who s told me everything I ve ever done and loves me! It s been two and half weeks. 16 days (not counting Sundays). It s time to be real. It s time to be vulnerable. The world needs our authenticity. And so, too, do we.
The Power of Vulnerability Lent 3A-17 John 4: 1-30, 39-42 March 19, 2017 The Power of Vulnerability It s been two and half weeks sixteen days, not counting Sundays that you and I have been traversing the wilderness of Lent. As we explored two weeks ago, more than anything else, Lent really seeks to push us into the metaphorical wilderness not so we ll suddenly find ourselves lost and forsaken, but that we ll find ourselves stripped of the pretenses and facades we carry and so be freed to uncover, once again, exactly who and whose we really are. Take it seriously the wandering and wondering of Lent and you ll quickly realize that Lent calls us to something altogether uncomfortable vulnerability. It s hard to walk without the facades that feel so familiar. Just as it can be frightening to be seen as we really are. It s why one of the most common dreams people tend to have is the underwear dream. Or the naked dream. A dream where you find yourself in a public or social event maybe at school or work or amid a social engagement in which you re interacting with others, and you suddenly realize you re not wearing any clothes. Now, not everyone has had this kind of dream. But many, many have. Including myself. And I can tell you, there s a pretty significant sigh and even a good chuckle when you wake up from it. But there s also a lesson to be learned from these dreams, as psychologists suggest this type of dream is so common because of our all-too-human fear of being vulnerable. Our fear of being unshielded. Our egos and identities unprotected. As if we can t stand the thought of being laid bare just as we are with our secrets revealed our wounds and scars in plain sight our past out in the open for everyone to examine. Rather than simply being ourselves as vulnerable as that may be we ve learned to project an image we want others to see. About five years ago, Ted asked me to go have a beer with him. Ted and his wife, Linda, had been family friends of ours for a few years at the time. In addition to getting together for family dinners, our kids would occasionally play together and we d babysit for each other in a pinch. Melissa and I really liked them and still do, even if our geographical distance has changed. So when Ted extended the invitation, I was more than happy to have a beer with a buddy. But I wasn t prepared for what Ted needed to talk about. Rob, I ve never told anyone this, and I m not sure how to talk about it. What s up? I asked. You know I love Linda, he said. I know. Well, here s the thing. We haven t been a real couple for years now. What do you mean?
We live together; we parent the kids together; we even socialize with friends together; but at home, he explained, at home it s really hard. We have separate bedrooms; we don t speak to each other if the kids aren t around; and while we care about each other, we ve agreed to stay together until the kids are both in college and then we ll get a divorce. But it s just gotten so hard, he said. It s just become so, so hard. I tried hard to listen to my friend. To hear him explain the breakdown within their relationship. To hear him confess that neither of them had told anyone as far as he knew including their own parents and siblings lest word somehow make it back to folks they didn t want to know including their kids. Eventually, I said something like, Ted, my gosh. I m so sorry. I had no idea. I know, he replied. We re really good at faking it. I wish you didn t feel like you have to fake it. And then, with a bit of a chuckle, he said, Fakebook helps. Fakebook? With a k? I d never heard the term before. Yeah Fakebook. All it is is a place for folks to project fake images of themselves they want others to perceive. Nobody s ever exactly who they say they are on Facebook. I realized then and there that much of what I knew about Ted was not just from our personal interactions, but also from his family s Facebook pictures and posts pictures and posts they put up there to form an idealized version of themselves a version they wanted family and friends and co-workers to see lest others know the truth about their family. A family I still very much cared for whether their marriage was beautiful or broken. As I drove home, my heart broke for my friends. Not just because of the pain they experienced within their marriage, but because of the pain that stemmed from constantly trying to project an image. The exhaustion they must ve felt from perpetually wearing this façade to shield others from seeing the truth inside. Now, as I share their story, I readily admit that I am no stranger to wearing various façades of my own. I ve carried more than a couple of masks around in my day, pretending to be something I m not; or hiding things I d rather not come to life. Frankly, I suspect you have, too. For this world has taught most people to carry some kind of cover in order to be seen not as they are, but as they want to be perceived as if who they are is not enough. In an article titled Three Big Lessons Harvard Never Taught Me, Forbes writer Shaun Rein shares that the biggest lesson he learned from his time at Harvard was nothing he learned as a student, but what he learned from his students as a member of the faculty. Every day students would come to my office overlooking Harvard Yard, and we d usually end up talking about more than just (their studies). We d discuss their hopes and, more often than not, their fears. They were afraid of not keeping up with their peers and not living up to their parents expectations.
They felt this way pretty much the board. Rich kids and legacies thought they d gotten there because of their families; minority students worried they were there because of their skin color; brains from humble backgrounds worried they weren t rich enough to be there. As their teacher, I could see that they all deserved to be there for different reasons. But they themselves couldn t easily gauge how their work measured up against others, and this fed their insecurities. 1 And it s not just students who feel this way. A survey published in 2015 by the Harvard Business Review found that the number one fear among 116 of the nation s top CEO s and management executives is the fear of being found incompetent. 2 Now keep in mind these are the crème de la crème in the business world and their number one fear is not losing money it s not lack of production or quality of outcome or being sued or anything of the sort. Their largest fear was being found incompetent. It s what known as the imposter s syndrome, or the fraud syndrome, a term used to describe feelings of inadequacy 3 even in the face of evidence to the contrary. Doesn t matter if you if you get in to Harvard your classmates will soon discover you don t really belong. Doesn t matter if you get promoted to vice-president of a multi-national corporation you faked your way there and now you don t know what you ll do. Doesn t matter if your students go on to graduate school and live successful lives you were never a very good teacher, or maybe they were all just really good kids. Doesn t matter if your friends all seem to like you if they knew the real you they wouldn t want to be your friend. You know, I was taken aback when Ted opened up to me. But I shouldn t have been. As a pastor, I ve been invited in to quite a few deeply held secrets. From spouses who ve had an affair, to adults sharing something they had done as a child that no one ever knew about, to people living with a terminal illness but unwilling to share the news and so receive support. And the list goes on. For the truth is, friends, we all carry secrets. Secret wounds we don t want others to see, lest they strike us where we re already vulnerable. Secret shames we don t want others to see, lest they judge us for being less than they perceive us to be. I have them. You have them. But God doesn t want us living the rest of our lives worried what will happen if others see the real us. Nor does God want us living the rest of our lives with the various facades that weigh us down and depress our very souls. God knows all our secrets. God sees all are wounds. 1 Shaun Rein, https://www.forbes.com/2010/06/07/harvard-education-lessons-leadership-careers-rein.html 2 Roger Jones, https://hbr.org/2015/02/what-ceos-are-afraid-of 3 https://counseling.caltech.edu/general/infoandresources/impostor