“To Love is to be Vulnerable”

I remember sitting in my dorm room, mad at God, because he called me to the vocation of marriage and here I was (a sophomore in college) not having met my husband. (I was CLEARLY past the age of hope to find love… *please note the sarcasm*).

Sarcasm aside, I had my fair share of heartache, tears, mistakes, wounds, and loneliness. I remember writing in my journal about my heart and telling God I wanted to give him my heart. Don’t be fooled, though. This was not the kind of “give God your heart” that he actually asks for. You know… to love him, to serve him, to pray to him, to rely on him, to trust in him, the list goes on. Honestly, maybe I thought it was at the time. I thought I was doing something selfless and perhaps romantically heroic by giving God my heart. But, I found that journal entry a while ago. I read it. And I felt sorry for the young college girl who wrote it.

As I read through it, it didn’t seem like a genuine “giving” of one’s heart. It read as if I was throwing my heart at God… almost in a way to say, “Here! You take it! I don’t want it anymore!” Like all the hurt and loneliness left me utterly hopeless that God would ever answer my prayers. So, I decided to throw it away… lock it away “for God” (*insert air quotes*). In this heartbreaking journal entry, I saw the truth of the two years that followed. As I read, I could visibly see the wall that I erected around my heart. For the next two years I refused to date or to let anyone remotely get to know me. I became undeniably independent. The only person who truly knew me was God.

In this entry, I wrote, “My heart is locked away in a box buried underground in an abandoned cave.” I guess this was my version of “giving my heart” to God…??? I remember reading a passage from CS Lewis that changed everything, though. It shocked my heart back to life… or I should say God did. The passage said:

To love at all is to be vulnerable… Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it up carefully… wrap it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable… To love is to be vulnerable.

I believe this excerpt was placed in front of me by God. I had done exactly this. I wanted to keep my heart safe so I locked it away. I loved the image of a coffin… because that’s what it was. I was allowing my heart to grow impenetrable, which, according to CS Lewis, meant irredeemable.

Last summer a group of Project Timothy missionaries and I led a girl’s retreat. We led the ladies in a reflection on the Sacred Heart of Jesus and then invited them to imagine their own hearts. What are the beauties; the wounds; the ways God has transformed them? We then all took to our artistic abilities and painted or drew our imagined hearts. I wanted to share all of this because the above-mentioned time in my life was the heart that I pictured and felt compelled to draw.

I had locked my heart away. I cut off its air and let it blacken. I let the lies the devil told me about myself—that I was ugly, damaged, used, dark, broken, wounded—take hold of this dying heart. But, Christ, showing me his own wounds, unlocked this hardened heart and brought to me a new one. He brought a child’s heart. “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Mt. 18:3). This bright pink heart held nothing except the truth about who I was as his daughter; beloved, pure, cherished, born again. My name, Kara Renee, actually means exactly this! This heart, so simple and small, was given to me to nourish and let grow into a heart that desired so deeply the love of God! To trust as a child trusts.

We all hold on to wounds. Perhaps many of us retract into those wounds and lies and let them control how we interact with the world, with others, or worse… our relationship with God. But I wanted to share this because God is the transforming power. Christ carries our wounds, he speaks truth into the lies we allow ourselves to believe, and he renews us in all things! I want to encourage anyone struggling with wounds, God’s call in their vocation, loneliness, trust, love, or much more to turn those things over to God. Trust that through him, even in the midst of hurt, we are being healed.

So Be It

“ Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I complete what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church.” (Col 1:24) 

Sadly, I don’t even remember her name. I only remember the circumstances of our meeting and our conversation. Yet, the Lord revealed so much to me during the course of our time together and I have never forgotten the valuable lesson that came through our discussion – namely, answers to a question I had long asked. 

As a Protestant, studying to become a pastor, and an avid reader of Scripture, I came upon a few verses that I could not understand. I would often ask those I looked up to for answers. Generally, the answers I would receive were something like, “That’s what the Catholics use to justify such and such teaching.” That was never a satisfying answer… What did “we” believe about said passages? What is true? Ultimately, that searching led me to the Catholic Church where I found those answers, largely in the writings of the Church Fathers. 

The passage I have selected above was one such verse. “How could anything be lacking in the sufferings of Christ?” What does this mean? I found the answer in a most unexpected way. As a Graduate Assistant in the Catechetics Office at a Catholic university and a “non-traditional” student with a family, sometimes my experience on campus was different than that of my classmates. The university participated in an exchange with students from another Protestant university known for its biblical studies program. Catholic students would spend time on a Baptist campus, and vice versa. Normally, these students were hosted by university faculty, and dinner in the home was part of the experience. To my surprise, my wife and I were asked to host a group of five or six students, welcome them into our home and provide dinner and conversation for them. 

As a recent convert, they understandably had many questions for me. Most were predictable. Questions about Mary, the intercession of the saints, Scripture and Tradition, all of these were discussed respectfully at length. She seemed rather quiet in this discussion. It seemed as if something was weighing heavy on her heart. It was then that one of the students asked me, “So, enough about doctrine. What’s your testimony? Tell us about your life! How did you find a relationship with Christ?” If only more Catholics would be so direct! 

I began to share my story. Some of it you can find here and here. Beginning from my childhood (an unusual move on my part), I shared stories of struggle and abuse, of striving to find identity, of searching for meaning, of patterns or mistakes (rooted in fear) and so many hurts. I also shared how coming into the Catholic Church felt like the ending of a lifelong journey in which I finally found all that I had been searching for, and a commissioning for a new even greater journey. Through it all, she was quiet. I noticed a tear in her eye. It was then that she began to ask more questions about my childhood. Whether everyone left the table or stayed and quietly listened, I still don’t recall. 

She began to expound upon her own experiences and wounds. It was a deeply personal conversation in which she explained that she had a similar childhood. She seemed especially curious about how I have continued on, how I found healing, how I seemed to have found peace. She also asked how I deal with my past experiences. She even asked a question about how God could allow me to suffer as he had. She was, of course, asking for herself.  

I hadn’t really given it much thought since becoming Catholic. I also hadn’t thought of it in relation to the Scripture passage above. But, these words then proceeded out of my mouth. “I have been able to share my testimony with a few people. It’s not something I share often. Nor something I am willing to share much. But, on a few occasions the Lord has allowed for it. On those occasions others have shared with me that they have found hope in my experience; that they can see that someone with the very same wounds can find healing, can find forgiveness, that God’s grace can do wonders. For that reason and no other, I say that if my suffering is what can help you find healing in this moment, then I say, ‘So, be it.’” She then began to cry. I could sense that the peace of God and the wonder of his grace began to fill her heart. 

What the Lord showed me in that experience is the answer to the question I had so many years ago. Does it somehow make light of what I suffered? Absolutely not! Does it somehow excuse it? No. Does it mean that in some strange way I find joy in that most traumatic experience? A thousand times no! 

So, what does it mean then? Here we come to yet another one of my favorite Scripture passages. Hebrews 12:2 states, “Jesus endured the Cross for the joy that was before Him.” What was that joy? Better, who was that joy? It was me! It was you! It was this student! In all His suffering, He had the good of our redemption in mind. Each one of us. He would have done it all the same even if only one of us would accept the gift of salvation and eternity with Him. His love for us is that real. Similarly, the things we suffer in this life, we are called to unite to the sufferings of Christ, the perfecter and finisher of our faith. We see in both Scripture and Tradition (as well as in the lives of the saints), that our sufferings, when offered up to the Lord, are themselves powerful prayers that serve a redemptive purpose. In this case, what I endured and my story of healing and redemptions that followed were the vehicle for bringing healing to another. By God’s grace, she is not the only one. 

In this world there is so much hurt, so many wounds. Yet, we are not alone in our suffering. So many share our same experiences. We know that Christ, the Divine Physician, is present wherever two or three are gathered in his name. I pray that by God’s grace we can be the wounded healers that we are called to be in this world. I pray that we can find the forgiveness and healing that is so needed and that we can help others do the same. In this way, we can become channels of God’s grace, healing and love overflowing into the hearts and minds of others.