WARNING: Radical Vulnerability May Cause Emotional Hangover

In the foreword to my book, Jon Seidl wrote, “God works through radical vulnerability… What Sarah has put together in Desert Vineyards is a masterclass on radical vulnerability.” And in his own recently released book, Confessions of a Christian Alcoholic, Seidl thanks me for modeling it.  (You’re welcome, Jon. Now it’s my turn to read yours.)

I am grateful to be even a snidbit of Seidl’s own story and I don’t disagree with him – I believe God does work through our radical vulnerability; it’s His strength that allows us the humility to do it in the first place, and if we are willing to be fully honest and open about the ugliest parts of our stories in order to display how God can redeem it all into something beautiful when we earnestly seek Him, we can confidently hope others will be encouraged and certain Jesus will be glorified – BUT may I warn you: When you go all in, when you commit to being radically vulnerable, whether it’s with one person or a small group or a book for anyone to read, you may experience relief that immediately coincides with regret, you may feel completely foolish with a desperate desire to escape and a sense of dread while waiting for some kind of response with heartache in the silence, and you may have a long-lasting emotional hangover that causes you to never want to be radically vulnerable ever again.

Maybe not. Hopefully, that won’t be your experience. But more or less, it was mine.

After my book came out last year, I basically threw up my hands and told God, “I don’t care what you do with my writing, but I’m out. I don’t want to be vulnerable anymore. I’m done.” I was emotionally exhausted and needed rest. I needed a break. I needed to step back and breathe. I needed to surrender. And what I essentially said to Jesus in my prayers felt like surrender. And yet it wasn’t.

Additionally, we must remember that any time we are faithful and obedient to what God has called us to do, we will be met with opposition. The enemy is chomping at the bit to attack us. And the devil was ready and waiting for me. He didn’t have any negative feedback from my writing to use against me, however, so he used the silence.

I tried to rest like Jesus demonstrates for us in the Gospels, but I struggled in the silence. I didn’t want to be in quiet stillness, alone and vulnerable, even with God. I wholeheartedly believe my Heavenly Father always knows my heart, but I tried to guard it anyway. I had no desire to write anything, to share or be vulnerable in any capacity; I haven’t written anything in almost a year. I read lots of books about other’s personal stories and memoirs, but it made me cringe to think about mine. I buried myself in my life with five boys and the busyness that comes with it and started helping with my husband’s successful real estate business, focusing on practicality instead of spirituality. I still go to my Bible study, but I listen more than participate. I spend time with close friends, but I drink more than I talk and confide in them. I have done my darndest to move on and not care, but essentially all I did was shut down, knowing all along that I couldn’t care more.

To be clear, what I truly care about is God being known, not me. I care that my sacrifice of writing something so raw and personal actually has an impact on His Kingdom. (So, for those of you who sat with me and cried after reading my book, gave me a hug, sent me a text, wrote a review, or reached out in some way – thank you. Your response means more to me than you’ll ever know.) My failed attempts, however, at “not caring” and avoiding all vulnerability resulted more in suppressing my thoughts and prayers than it did in surrendering them all to the One who cares the most.

Suppressing, not surrendering. They’re not the same thing. And the distinction is an important one.

My oldest son is notorious for confusing two words for the “same thing.” Although unintentional, he consistently says the wrong word for something else he means. Not a huge deal. The issue is – he does not care that there’s a difference.

For example: When driving through Texas last year, Zane asked, “Are we going to pass through that armadillo town again?”

“It’s Amarillo, son. An armadillo is an animal,” I said.

“Same thing,” Zane shrugged.

I sighed, shaking my head. “Nope. Sure isn’t.”

Then, last spring, Zane played on a co-ed 3v3 basketball team with a teammate named Jenica. One day, as Zane was talking to me about his team, he referred to her as “Jenny.”

Curious, I said, “Oh, I thought her name was Jenica… Does she go by Jenny?”

“No. I don’t know. I just saved her as “Jenny” in my phone.”

“Zane, that’s not her name,” I exclaimed. “You shouldn’t call her Jenny if her name is Jenica!”

Zane shrugged, “Eh, same thing.”

“No! Oh, my goodness, child. It’s not the same thing!”

And here we are again: Giggles to Glory. God continuing to teach me through my kids…

A few weeks ago, God’s voice rang out loud and clear: “Sarah, stop trying to convince yourself that you’re “done” and you “don’t care.” Suppressing how you feel, escaping from it, is not the same thing as surrendering to me. Your emotional hangover, although very real, is over now. You need to be vulnerable again.”

Suppressing and surrendering – not the same thing. In 1 Peter 5:6-7, the Bible says: “Therefore humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you in due time, casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you.” Surrender requires vulnerability. The King of the universe cares about you and I. He cares about every single, intricate detail of our lives, so we cannot mistake the indifference of others for Christ’s, because He cannot be indifferent. And we cannot surrender all our cares – our worries, our pain, our emotional hangovers – upon Him, unless we humble ourselves before Him, stay in His presence, and submit to His Word. May we submit to Isaiah 43:1-2 that says, “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by your name; You are Mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; And through the rivers, they shall not overflow you.”

For me, I’m not sure God is calling me to be radically vulnerable anymore through writing. I definitely have no intentions of writing another book any time soon, or ever. And I’m not sure what the future holds for this blog. Without a doubt, though, God is calling me to be completely vulnerable in my prayers with Him again and to not hold back with my people. A friend of mine calls it “sharing your insides.” I love that. My emotional hangover has left me to relearn that the closest and dearest people to our hearts are a safe place for radical vulnerability. Because in those prayers, in our fellowship, and in His presence, we experience Him and His abundant joy and peace. May we resist the urge to suppress, ignore, and escape. Rather, may we lean into Jesus and ask Him for the strength to surrender – to surrender ourselves to His ultimate loving care.