Love means never having to say “I’m sorry”

“Em, I’ve noticed you’ve been quiet lately…anything you’re going through that we could help you with?”

Vulnerability.
Ugh. Please. No.

Don’t look at me, don’t ask me questions, don’t cry, Emily whatever you do don’t cry.

I used to associate vulnerability with a lot of things, none of them good.
Rejection. Condemnation. Judgement. Falling short. Disappointment. Fear. Manipulation.
It invokes an immediate sense of tension in my stomach, my heart speeds up and I begin looking desperately for my invisibility cloak.
“People will stab me in the back.”
“My family will think less of me.”
“I’ll lose any control I once had.”

We live in constant community on the World Race, and I mean constant, (you can’t even go to the bathroom without enduring three sets of knocks to see if someone’s inside). Regardless of the physical closeness, I was good at keeping my walls up. After all, I’ve had a lifetime of practice.
I was proud of it too. I didn’t NEED anyone to run this race, instead my job here was always “to disciple” or “pour into others.” I didn’t need to be “fixed” and I definitely didn’t want any help doing what I’ve been doing just fine for 25 years.

It wasn’t until month eight I finally realized how much I had managed to isolate myself from others, and SURPRISE, it wasn’t as beneficial as I originally thought. Even more shocking, I was pretty terrible at wading through this life alone.

My new team was different from any of the others. VERY confrontational, VERY perceptive, and gosh they were persistent. They noticed EVERY THING, talked it all out (sometimes for hours) and they pursued hard. For the first time, my team wasn’t taking my vague and general answers. I’m pretty easy to read, but instead of minding their own business and leaving me alone these girls didn’t let things go. They would DRAG it out of me, would pull me kicking and screaming into long conversations about my um… “feelings” …bleh. It was exhausting, but I began to realize as hard and uncomfortable as the process was, the finished product was kinda…beautiful? They were chipping away at my walls and revealing something new and refined and genuine beneath the surface.

I remember telling Corrie once that I was “just tired”, and she replied in her sassy voice “you must be outta yo mind if you think you’re gonna lie to me and get away with it.”
MAN, they wouldn’t give up.

However, as my barriers slowly crumbled, people were able to step over the ruins and come inside my heart. The openness I now shared with my team created a bond that was uniquely powerful.

I’ve had a problem standing up for myself in the past. Heaven forbid I would EVER tell someone I didn’t AGREE with them?!? Whaaaatt? That might start a discussion, or even…dare I say it, a conflict?
Have I mentioned yet that I hate confrontation?
I describe it as if I’m doing a backbend. My body moves under the pressure but doesn’t completely break. I conform to whatever is around me, resisting the urge to speak up in the moment. After years of bending I couldn’t determine what I actually wanted anymore (besides the pleasure of others). Stepping into raw vulnerability for the first time, I asked my team to come around me and hold me up as I began the process of lifting my hands from the ground, slowly pulling myself upright, taking back my life as my own.

They pushed to hear what was on my mind, to know what I was going through, they valued my opinions and they fought hard for me to be heard. Whenever I apologized for feeling a certain way or voicing opposition, they refused to accept it saying, “don’t say sorry. That’s part of being vulnerable, speaking up when things hurt you even when the world says you should suck it up.”

I had never seen this kind of love before, so honest, direct, tough at times but unrelenting, it was humbling. They wanted to know me, ALL of me, they wanted to love me, ALL of me. As I continued growing in my identity and confidence I felt myself moving upwards, my team ready to give me a gentle push forward if I hesitated.

I had a trying week, with a lot of very hard and very real conversations. After eight months of being “fine” and just “happy to be here” I finally revealed more of my heart than I ever have before, even when it looked like a bloody, broken mess. I admitted to my team that I was still really broken, and I invited them into those broken places. They saw me as I presently was, a work in progress. I hated that people saw me in my mistakes and sin and confessed it to Kate. I’ll never forget her response, “That’s because you are standing up on your own now, people can see you a lot better. I’m proud of you… I think I love you more NOW than I ever have.”

What?!
No condemnation? No reprimands? No judgement.
No.
Nothing…but…love.

As I return to an upright position, (the way God intended us to move), I look back at my team. They’re still there, but they aren’t pushing me anymore..I don’t need them too. Instead, they’re applauding, they’re cheering me on.

I’ve developed a brand new perception of Vulnerability.
Trust. Confidence. Ownership. Truth. Identity. Freedom.

Team Freefall has taught me a lot. Vandella, Corrie, Kaitlyn, Tiara, and Tera (and all the others on my squad that have patiently challenged my comfort level) THANK YOU for illustrating the surprising rewards of vulnerability. Thank you for pushing me, for loving me, for calling me out, calling me higher, annoying me, catching me and allowing me the challenging yet life changing experience of total, painful, beautiful community.

Not only do OTHERS see ME better when I straighten up, but I can see this world better too. Standing on the souls of my feet with my hands outstretched makes it so much easier to move forward with Christ in the form of a crazy, wonderful, exhilarating 

F R E E F A L L.
 
 
My team has talked a lot about the masks we hide behind, and the impact community can have when utilized to its greatest potential.. please enjoy this inspirational video made by the one and only Tiara Menjivar and featuring my beloved L Squad.

 All footage taken in the Salt Flats, Bolivia