Risk Being Vulnerable

by Arthur Caliandro

Several years ago, I attended a conference on the West Coast with twenty-six other members of the clergy who had come from major churches and institutions across America. To be truthful, the idea of being with a group of my colleagues was not entirely positive. All were very successful, but most were more conservative than I am. Generally I have been criticized, if not condemned, by many of my colleagues who are of a conservative mind.

A week before the conference, I was asked if I would do the morning devotions on the fourth, and last, morning of the conference. It was to be a ten- to fifteen-minute talk on anything I thought appropriate.

Although I had an idea of what I wanted to talk about, I was sort of casing the attendees during the conference. I was trying to get a sense of who they were. And, of course, I listened to the other devotionals to get a feeling for what would be appropriate.

As I listened to those other devotionals, I found that most people were giving talks much like the ones we had all learned to write as sermons when we were in seminary. I'd characterize that kind of talk as "theologically thoughtful."

Everything was correct in those talks, possibly even put together with the intent of impressing the assembly with some elegant turn of phrase or point of erudition. But I found that no person shared anything of himself in those talks. There was no heart. No spirit.

No one offered any self-revelation that opened up a sense of the individual who stood behind the words. Even in my conversations with others as those days went by, most people seemed to have their defenses up. We were all sharing our successes, recounting how wonderful things were for us, how our churches were growing.

I arrived at a decision. I would do something different. I decided, with no well-defined goal in mind, to address something a little curious. I decided to share a part of my own journey in my devotional talk.

When my morning came, I asked everyone to rearrange the chairs from theater-style into a circle. I said, "This morning, my devotional will be a story of my own pain and brokenness and the healing that followed."

I told them that I had been in denial. I said that I was a classic Type A personality, and that had resulted in a major illness. I revealed how, in the face of that illness, I had lost my faith and my ability to pray. I even told how I had, at the suggestion of my surgeon, started seeing a psychiatrist.

I held nothing back, including the fact that my psychiatrist was helping me get in touch with my feelings, my anger, my control needs---who I was. I told them I was finding the courage to begin to face myself, deep down.

This was a huge risk to take, as I was aware that perhaps ninety percent of the clergy in attendance would see therapy as a sign of weakness---an admission that faith alone could not solve all problems.

About midway through my talk, I became aware that people were not only listening but they seemed riveted to what I was saying. It was clear to me that they were looking at their own personalities, their fears, loneliness, weakness---their vulnerabilities. No one can argue with another person's story.

I had to leave to catch a plane just after my devotional. As I walked from the room, several people walked along with me, each in his own way saying, "You were talking directly to me. . . to all of us. We're not free to say how we really feel."

Was my talk a risky thing to do? Absolutely. Yet it taught me something invaluable, even amazing. We are emancipated when we allow ourselves to share something true and painful about ourselves. When we take this kind of risk, two things happen. We are freed, and the people around us are freed as well.

Where are you in your own journey? Do you need to open up to someone with what you are really feeling, with who you really are? Are you afraid of risking this?

I challenge you to find someone you can trust and with whom you can be open and honest, beginning and continuing the process of being who you really are.

Try it, and the response may change your life. Even more remarkable, it may change other lives, too.

Reprinted with permission from: Simple Steps: Ten Things You Can Do to Create an Exceptional Life (McGraw-Hill, 2000) by Arthur Caliandro. Simple Steps is available from Faith@Work for $19.