Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective. – James 5:16

My junior year of college, I found myself in the midst of a frustrating dilemma. I had unknowingly crossed over from feeling spiritually fed in my college fellowship, into a place where I was a leader and wasn’t there to be taught, but there to pour into other people. I had to start self-feeding if I wanted to continue to see growth in my own life.

I was admittedly at a loss.

One of the beautiful things about your first couple of years in a college town is that relationships with other people, especially once you’ve found a church, require little to no intentionality. The entire environment is largely conducive to making friendships almost by accident. You make friends with classmates, with people you intern with, with people on your floor, with people who go to your fellowship, with people who work with, with people who are routinely at the gym/dining commons/laundry room the same time you are – pretty much everywhere if you’re open to it. There wasn’t much about that season of my life that was intentional, I often jokingly refer to it as the EAC (which, if you’ve seen Finding Nemo, is this big current that if you can hop on to, takes you incredibly far without any real effort from you).

And then all of a sudden, I was booted out of the EAC. For the first time in my relatively young adult life, if I wanted growth and connection, I had to ask for it. I had to make time for it. And while I balked at that at first, once I reached out to a couple of friends who I knew were in similar places, we found a pretty large group of girls who were praying for the exact same thing. It was like the cartoon light bulb had been switched on over our heads: we schemed, planned and excitedly dreamt up what we would study, where we’d meet, and what God would do.

We didn’t even come close to dreaming big enough.

We had planned to meet for the first time just before Christmas break ended, except that meant that only about half of the girls who had expressed interest were able to show up, myself included. So the next week, when we were all finally able to be there, my friend Sara had the idea to go around do introductions. Again, in a town where everything revolves around the university, this is not a new thing. Your second day in the dorms your freshman year, you’ve pretty much got the “name, major, where you’re from, and random fact” narrative down pat. You repeat it a lot. It’s not actually vulnerable at all, nor does it require really connecting with anyone, but it gives you something to answer with your TA’s ask it every quarter, or you’re in a study group, or new at a fellowship.

Sara’s introduction went for the kill. Instead of the blasé 3 line introduction, she said, “Tell me your story” and then launched into 10 minutes of genuine vulnerability. Then Amanda went, and if anything went more deeply into vulnerability. And for the next 3 hours, we told each other the ugly, bumpy, broken parts of who we were. 12 of us bared our souls in the most terrifying, tear-filled night of my life.

I had gotten really good at doing this fake brand of vulnerability, the church version of the “name, major, where you’re from and random fact”, and the real thing made me want to throw up. I hated it. I actively avoided it. I engaged in fake vulnerability, which for me, looks like sharing things that God has already done and fixed, so I could say “look at this big, messy thing that isn’t actually a problem for me anymore”, and pretend that I was being real with my struggles.  And here I was, in this bible study I had prayed for, planned for and helped to organize…and I couldn’t escape it.

I could probably do an entire series on what made that night at bible study so life changing. We were all empathetic and kind with the stories the rest of the group felt the most shame for. Being gracious in response, being genuine and kind, when someone has had the courage to share the parts of themselves they’d rather forget existed…is one of the most life-giving things you can do for another person. It cuts the shame that’s waiting in the wings to swoop in and beat them up, off at the knees. We were all a little bit desperate for community, which put us in a unique place to be willing to go further than we might have otherwise to get it. We were all invested with parts of us we weren’t proud of, so it didn’t feel like anybody walked away holding all of the cards. We were meant to be in that apartment in East Davis that night, and like Esther, I honestly believe we were all in the position we were for such a time as that.

We definitely weren’t perfect. And I wouldn’t even say that three years later, we are all even still the kind of friends that we were in that season. But it was the best bible study I’ve ever been in. I’ve never witnessed the Lord do signs and wonders and miracles like I did in that 8 months and I formed some of the best friendships I’ve ever had in my life. Not just because they were exceptionally wonderful girls, (which they really were) but because in that night, we confessed our sins and shame to one another, and we found healing. It wasn’t all instantaneous (though my friend Katie was completely healed from arthritis just a few hours later) but healing from physical, emotional, mental and spiritual wounds reverberated through the group and touched each one of us.

There is so much power in bringing somebody else into your pit. Into the parts of you that are ugly and hard. The voice in your head is convinced that if anybody else knew, they wouldn’t look at you the same. They would judge you, and then word would get out, and everyone would know. It’s the shame equivalent of those dreams where you go to school in your underwear and everyone points and laughs. But the reality of it is, when you trust Jesus in sharing those parts of you with other people He brings in front of you, there isn’t pointing and laughing. There’s grace. There’s acceptance of who you are, exactly where you are. There’s healing.

I wish I could say that everyone you’ve ever been tempted to tell a secret to would keep it. But I think we all know that that isn’t true, and is often a reason I’ve heard from girls as to why they can’t share the real stuff with people. And I do urge you to be selective. Don’t shout it from the rooftops unless the Lord has said very plainly to you, “Go, and shout it from the rooftops” (or in my case “Go, put it on the website”). But don’t let those experiences be what walls you in from vulnerability, real connection and being genuinely known by people who love you.

Vulnerability is scary. It’s hard and sometimes you wish you could stuff all of it back into your mouth once it’s out there. But I’ve never walked away from trusting the Lord, when he’s asked me to be vulnerable, more damaged. Ever. I’ve walked away so steeped in fear that I was convinced that everyone I’ve ever known would know and look at me differently, because the truth of it would spread like wildfire. I’ve walked away and hidden in my house for days because I was terrified of the world. I’ve walked away and wanted to cut off all connection with those people because now they know the real me, and I can’t pretend to have it all together. But each time, I’ve walked away a little more whole. With shame having a little less power. Trusting Jesus with my ugly and hard parts a little more. Finding a little more healing.

If I could give a single piece of advice that I believe would change your life, it would be to trust to Jesus in confession. Because you’re not alone, and the Lord isn’t the only one who will see the depths of how broken you are and love you anyway. Your life will be infinitely richer having let people in on who you are.

In the words of my favorite author Brene Brown:

“You are imperfect, you are wired for struggle, but you are worthy of love and belonging.”

Love and belonging require that we be real with who and where we are. That we have the courage to show up and let ourselves be seen. It can be one of the hardest things we decide to do and keep doing every day, but there is such sweet freedom in knowing that the people who know and love you, have seen the worst of you and aren’t running away.