The power of radical vulnerability.

If you're looking for a way to a greater sense of peace in your life, I have two words for you. But they're unpopular.

These two words have changed my life, especially recently. They've given me a freedom I couldn't imagine. And they're scary as hell.

Here they are: Radical vulnerability.

I've always been an open book. Even since I was a kid. I'm a "talker." I ask questions. I'm generally not afraid to be honest about what I'm going through. Historically, as my wife can tell you, that's led to plenty of foot-in-mouth moments. But I'm not talking about "letting someone have it" or telling a joke that toes (or crosses) the line.

I'm talking about the type of vulnerability that scares you. The type that reveals how and where you've failed. The kind that, when utilized, can invite critique, feelings of shame, and embarrassment.

It's talking about where you've failed. Your mistakes. Your insecurities. How you've gotten it wrong. The things you've said and done that you hope no one ever finds out about or brings up again. The hardships that make you feel like you're drowning. The lessons you're still learning. The mistakes you KEEP making, despite your best efforts.

That's radical vulnerability.

See, I've learned (I've seen) that when we practice radical vulnerability, the opposite of what we think is going to happen happens. The failures don't become an indictment, but rather an instrument. An instrument that you can use, and an instrument that God uses. There's a peace. Dare I say, you even gain a sense of power. And that peace comes EVEN when we have to face the consequences of some of those actions or words.

That's because when we shine a light on our weaknesses and failures, God shines through us. When we're humble enough to admit where we've failed and that we can't do it on our own, he does some of his best work.

I've seen that in my own life. I was scared out of my mind nearly 10 years ago when I first shared about my mental health struggle. I didn't know how people would react. But in sharing that weakness, I've seen more incredible transformation in my life than I ever thought imaginable. And I can't even count the number of people who have reached out to me because it encouraged them.

All because of radical vulnerability.

It's not just me though. I started thinking about this more after I saw a post this week from someone else who was practicing it. This person is a Christian influencer, someone with tens of thousands of followers. The person that's supposed to show the world how much she has it together. Do you know what she posted on Instagram this week? She talked about her struggle with alcohol. How her relationship with alcohol had become unhealthy, how it led to compromises, and how it dragged her down. How drunkenness was destroying her. Today, she's over a year sober, and she's telling the world about it. And the peace and freedom she's experiencing because of telling us about it is real.

That's radical vulnerability.

She's not being cancelled. She's not being written off. She's not being thrown to the scrap heap of failed social media personalities. She's being celebrated. But more importantly, God's being celebrated. Because God loves our weaknesses.

Listen, I'm going to get a little more spiritual. There's a devil. He exists. And he wants nothing more than for us to cower in darkness and hide our flaws and our weaknesses. To pretend that we are the stronger people out there. Why? Because that doesn't lead to peace.

God on the other hand? He tells us to bring our weaknesses to him. To declare them to the world. To admit we can't do it on our own. To be humble enough to do that. It's the whole crux of 2 Corinthians 12:1-10. That's where arguably the greatest titan of the Christian faith, Paul, talks about how weak he is. He gets vulnerable. He admits he has a "thorn" that just won't go away. His conclusion?

"[God's] power is made perfect in weakness. ... I am content with weakness, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong."

That's radical vulnerability. Declaring your weaknesses to the world because of the internal peace and strength it gives us, and because it displays Christ's incredible ability to work through failures like us.

I'll end with this. Radical vulnerability requires humility. We have to be humble enough to admit we don't have it all together, that we have failed and that we will fail. As I was thinking about all this this morning, an image came to mind. It was of clay. See, when we practice radical vulnerability, we become moldable, soft clay. The potter, God, then turns us into the work of art or tool he wants to. But when we aren't humble — when we want to pretend we're fine or superior — we become a ridged vase. We're hard.

The problem? That vase is pretty ugly. Maybe even useless, or at least less useful. Because we, who can't see the bigger picture or plan, have created it. The vase that creates itself will never be as beautiful or useful as the one molded and shaped by the potter who knows exactly what it should be or used for.

And listen: Do you know what God does sometimes with hard pots that aren't in the shape or image he needs them to be? He breaks them down. Or he allows hardship in our lives to break them, to break us.

Friend, that's a painful process. The less painful process? Turning yourself back into moldable clay and turning yourself over to the potter.

So what does it look like in your life to practice some radical vulnerability? I have some stuff I'm going to be talking about this year that scares me. But I'm going to do it anyway. Because I want the peace that comes with sharing it.

That peace is waiting for you, too.

(Pic: I've become enamored with campfires lately. They help me think. And some of what I've said here solidified around this campfire.)