But if we let it, our physical vulnerability can show us who we are and teach us to cry out to God

use our own money, health, time, education, and privilege to bless them too,

sharing our imperfections makes us seem cooler and more approachable, then it’s not true weakness. The things that are really wrong with us are embarrassing and uncomfortable. True vulnerability is too tender to trust with any except those who love us most.

weariness, when it cuts us to the core, reveals our truest, most fragile selves.

Joy in the midst of darkness should never be faked or performed, but it can be chosen. And it is a vulnerable and courageous choice.

I needed words to contain my sadness and fear. I needed comfort, but I needed the sort of comfort that doesn’t pretend that things are shiny or safe or right in the world. I needed a comfort that looked unflinchingly at loss and death. And Compline is rung round with death.

I’ve come to also see grief as part of the everyday experience of being human in a world that is both good and cruel. In this sense, grief is a constant for us. It is a real and right response to our vulnerability.

This prayer has the audacity to ask that the God of the universe would stoop not only to heal us but to care for us, to nurse us in our most unimpressive states. We need God to bring wholeness to our souls, even through the brokenness of our bodies.

None of us are the sum of our achievements. All of us are creatures who stink and swell and wear out and are utterly loved. Knowing this brings freedom.