The Loop

There’s something both terrifying and freeing about being truly known.

And I need to be fully honest before we go any further - I am not good at being vulnerable (or as a sweet friend reminded me, I’m not bad at it, I just really have to work at it).

I’ve known I needed to write about friendship for a few weeks. The Lord immediately put the idea of vulnerability on my heart, as the idea of being fully known is something I’ve been working on. Even though I felt the Lord’s prompting, I didn’t want to write about this because it feels hypocritical. But, as I was writing and praying through this, I’ve been challenged and encouraged. Praying the same for you.

Most of us are pretty good at sharing the highlight reel—celebrating milestones, posting the joyful moments on social media, or talking about the good things God is doing. When is the last time you heard someone answer something besides “good” when you ask how they are (and if you heard something else - did it take you by surprise?)?

It might even be easy to share some of the struggles - stubborn children, work conflicts, or home repair woes. But when it comes to the messy bits—the fear, the doubt, the insecurity, the places where we’re still healing or still struggling—we tend to hide. We armor up. We give surface-level answers. We tell ourselves, there’s no way I’m letting anyone else see that.

But here’s what I’m learning: real growth happens when we share our whole selves. And our whole selves are wanted and enough.

The fear of judgment is real. The feel of being abandoned is real. The scars from past relationships are real. And they’re all valid.

As much as it hurts to dig into that pain and pry back those scars, there’s clarity and so much more waiting on the other side.

The Bible doesn’t just encourage us to be in community—it shows us what kind of community fosters real transformation. James 5:16 says,
“Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed.”
There’s healing in honesty. Not just between us and God, but between us and the people walking beside us.

It’s hard, though. Vulnerability can feel risky (and IS risky). What if they judge me? What if I become a burden? What if they use this against me? What if they walk away?
But what if they don’t?

What if, instead, they lean in closer?
What if your honesty gives them the courage to be honest, too?
What if your shared struggle becomes sacred ground where God does His best work?

Galatians 6:2 challenges us:
“Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.”
We can’t carry each other’s burdens if we don’t know what they are. And no one can carry yours if you never speak them aloud.

Oof. I need a minute with that.

I struggle to let people see the full picture of who I am: the doubts, the failures, the parts still under construction. But the few friendships where I have let someone see the whole me? Those are the most freeing and life-giving relationships I have. I can share my whole self without worry that they’ll leave or hold it against me. And they’re the ones who give gracious reminders even when they see and know our true whole (messy, faulty) selves.

2 Corinthians 12:9 reminds us of a powerful truth:
“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”
When we share our weakness, we create space for Christ’s power to shine through.

Vulnerability isn’t a liability—it’s a gateway to deeper connection, deeper healing, and deeper growth.

And in the search for deeper, once you pull off that scab, you’ll find something sacred:
freedom, growth, and the grace to become a fuller version of you God created you to be.

Writing that was hard. But it felt kind of freeing, too. Praying you can find freedom in vulnerability in your friendships, too.

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