The Relational Economy: The Vault
- Thursday, October 07, 2010
I will not lie to you; the cost of being real may be high. People may take advantage of you—or at least try. There are no guarantees in the relational economy. Every investment could see a downturn in the market. Every relationship could end before marriage and sadly even marriages end. We, however, are not left as orphans but have a living hope (John 14:18, 1 Pet. 1:3).
Fear and worry can cause us to hide the deepest part of us in a safe deposit box, but that box does not sit out in the open. If we are really scared or have been deeply wounded, we will place the box in a vault with walls twenty feet thick and a series of alarms. In essence, we will hide ourselves in that vault.
By the time we build the vault, life has truly taken its toll. If we build the vault, few may ever truly know us again. A person who builds a vault and sets to guard their very self walks through life in a daze. They may eventually marry and walk the aisle in the same stupor. That is sad.
I used to get so frustrated and burnt on the effort of trying to date that I would talk about going to an island far away from EVERYONE! Quite simply I wanted to escape. I wanted to run away. I wanted to be somewhere completely safe where no one could hurt me. I would sing;
"I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
It's laughter and it's loving I disdain.
I am a rock, I am an island."*
I was not a rock nor was I an island but those words seemed so attractive to me. The island and the vault seemed like places of safety.
"You can't just go away!" my friend Roger would say.
"Why not," I would ask.
"Because you have too much to give the world."
I didn't always believe him, but I believed that HE BELIEVED IT!
And that meant a lot to me.
There seemed only one other way. To be truly me meant I had to leave myself vulnerable to hurt, open to betrayal, available for disappointment and failures. I had to leave my very soul open to rejection, my heart open to breaking. It didn't sound like much fun, but something in me understood it as living. Anything less was death.
I had to trust that my heart was NEVER in the hand of ANY girl or woman but in the hand of the one who made me and made me special. To be fully me meant I had to stay off the island, put off wishing I were a rock, and walk away from the vault.
So I risked and risked and risked and, in fact, as I grew more secure in GOD'S LOVE for me I risked even more. I don't mean I threw caution to the wind and acted unwisely. I simply moved from fearful passivity to faith filled action. I knew God had my back.
What took me a long time to realize is that failing in relationships did not make me a failure. The two once seemed inextricably linked and that was what made me want to hide in that vault.
We do not belong in vaults. We cannot live in vaults. Vaults are for inanimate things not living organisms. We were born and born again to be in the lives of others. We are people designed for relationships and not just dating or marriage, but all of life's relationships. We were made for relationships—period.
It is the pain and sorrow that push us into the vault. I was very tempted by the idea of going to a place where,
"I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock, I am an island."*
I longed to flee but nothing in me thought it wise to be in a place where "I touched no one and no one touche[d] me." That seemed neither safe nor wise. It sounded evil and so contrary to the will of God I reasoned it must have come from the author of lies—Satan.
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