Vulnerability.

For Generous Space Toronto.

Last night, I saw vulnerability.

Not the safe, easy, almost romantic kind–
the kind that new lovers try,
as a gentle test.

Not that.

No–the kind that needs trigger warnings,
and makes me cringe because it’s brave
and stupid

and socially inappropriate.
The kind that can barely find a plot,
but paints pictures so vivid

that suddenly,
I have an inkling of why the Psalmist would write:
“And darkness is my only friend.”

The kind I would need
walking into a room with natural light streaming in,
but only because there are beautiful and sharp
pieces
of stained glass
all over the floor.

Then, I saw a second kind of vulnerability:
a community, a people,
holding space enough to not lose
any of those
sharp
and beautiful
pieces.

I don’t know if there were any cuts.
But I do know that we held that space,
even if the glass hurt,

because we know
deep in our bones,
singing in the marrow:

All shall be well,
and all shall be well,

and all manner of thing
shall be well,
in our Lord Jesus Christ,
and by our Lord Jesus Christ.

And I remember:
Jesus’ vulnerability–
triggering and stupid and socially inappropriate–
saves the universe.

Selah.

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