There’s a lot of hype right now, especially in Christian circles, about the importance of being vulnerable. Vulnerability IS important. God emphasizes community within his family; he put his kids together so that we could be there to support each other and well, be vulnerable with each other. Transparency is a critical part of following God together. But something they don’t really tell you is that vulnerability only works when you mean it.

I have experienced a lot of forced vulnerability throughout the past few years, and I can tell you that pressuring someone into telling stories they aren’t ready to tell is pretty far from what I think God intended Christian community to be like. “Two or more” gathering in Christ’s name to talk honestly about the joys and struggles of being a human and a Christian is one of the most beautiful experiences possible. But if you’re being asked to talk about something you’re still working on alone with God, or if you are with people you’re not comfortable telling these things to, “vulnerability” becomes an agony of trying to decide how much to share without it looking like you’re not sharing everything.

We’ve gotten so focused on being vulnerable that we’ve kind of lost sight of protecting each other. We think that ideally, the church is a safe environment where we should be able to spill the details of our darkest battles without fearing that these confessions will be used against us. And we’ve seen enough negative consequences of secrecy within the church to be wary of anyone who doesn’t want to talk. But something we consistently forget is that we live in a world full of imperfect people who give in to selfish impulses like gossip and guilt-tripping. Sometimes people are afraid to be vulnerable because they’ve tried it before and been betrayed.

As much as we think trust should be automatic between Christians, it’s something that needs to be built up over time. It’s great to be trusting, but better to be someone others can trust. As a kid, I always appreciated it when people let me talk on my own time — people who understood that what I had to say would come out eventually if they waited for the bridge of trust to be built rather than demanding speeches and confessions. If you want people to be open with you, you’ve got to take the time to show them that you won’t share their stories with those who don’t need to know and that you are willing to let them come to you when they’re ready.

So to those Christians who want to listen: let people see that you’re worthy of hearing what they have to say. Convince them (not with words) that you won’t re-open their old scars of betrayal. And to Christians who need someone to trust: be willing to step off the edge of your safe place. Believing in God is risking everything — including your mental and emotional security. We weren’t all placed on the same planet and called to the same faith to pull each other’s defenses down prematurely while keeping our own a solid fifty feet high. Vulnerability is a game of giving and receiving equally. Let’s practice together.