Life can be heartbreaking sometimes. People disappoint us and hurt us. It can be especially hard if the hurt is coming from a person we are emotionally invested in—a friend we have loved deeply, a coworker we have a long history with, or a family member we want to trust but who keeps doing the same obnoxious thing over and over again.
After a major disappointment or letdown (especially if the offense is repetative) it can be tempting to steel ourselves, resolved to never let ourselves feel such pain again—ever.
It’s tempting to shut up our heart and prevent any possibility of future injury. I understand this sentiment. I’ve felt pain and been hurt myself, but such a response to pain can bring even greater harm to your soul, though in a different way.
We must choose to be vulnerable. Here is why.
Photo courtesy of Gene Tobia. CC 2.0
Without vulnerability there can be no real love, for without vulnerability we are never truly known.
C. S. Lewis elaborates on this important truth in his book The Four Loves.
There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal.
Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up save in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket—save, dark, motionless, airless—it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.
While discretion is certainly wise with respect to who we talk to about the deepest parts of our souls, in the wake of disappointment and hurt we must resist the urge to close off the world.
When get to a place in life where we refuse open our hearts to another person, we may be protected against future betrayal or hurt, but we also shut ourselves off from experiencing and receiving love.
[Quote from C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves: An Exploration of the Nature of Love. (New York, NY: Houghton Mifflin), 121.]