Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. (Galatians 6:2, NIV)
The kitchen is a stark raving mess.
We’ve been running for three days. Appointments and evening activities. Athletic events. Now we’ve just returned from a field trip, and there’s baking to do for a commitment tonight. I pull one of my husband’s T-shirts over my head, grab a pair of sweatpants, and go to work.
I decide to ignore the mess in the kitchen, the counters littered with life (books and coffee mugs and one lone shin guard), the sink that overflows with dishes, and a floor that needs a good vacuum. I’ll conquer the whole mess when I’m finished baking. I step over a pair of boy’s pajama pants the dog has been dragging around and shove pumpkin muffins into the oven.
It’s then that I hear a tap at the door. “Hello,” calls a sunny voice.
I look through the window and a beautiful friend waves as she comes through the porch door. She’s dressed from work and looks completely together. Too together for this kind of mess.
But she comes in.
I cringe for the dirty disorder I’m standing in. For the state of my home. For the condition of my kitchen. For the way I look and for the vulnerability of being a straight-up mess.
And my friend gives me a hug. She greets the boys and the dog. We begin to chat and because she’s a deep-soul sister, the conversation moves fast, and suddenly I’m aware of a most precious thing.
She’s looking at my heart–not my house.
I can be real-life vulnerable with this friend, because the friendship is true and true friendships, the kind that cover you, are not woven with judgment and criticism. They’re woven with love. And standing there, shoulders relaxing, warmed from the inside, I’m thankful that the blessing of safe vulnerability is true of our spiritual lives, too.
The Lord tells us to carry one another’s burdens. To help our brothers and sisters in Christ. This carrying, this burden-sharing, can only truly happen when we’re vulnerable enough to let others into our lives. Into our real struggles. Into our mess.
I’ve learned over the years to be discerning when finding others with whom to share my life-weight. But I’ve found that when I’m faithful to pray and ask the Lord to reveal to me who that may be, He is faithful to show me. And the blessing is life-changing.
My friend and I talk as I empty the dishwasher, wipe the counters, toss the pajamas into the wash and find the other shin guard behind the cookie jar. And as we share, I find that I’m anything but ashamed.
Being vulnerable can feel like a risky thing, but at the bottom of it I find a powerful truth.
Despite my mess, I am loved.
