I was walking through something hard and I felt lonely. It was one of those experiences when you wish God could come sit on your couch and chat with you over a cup of coffee—I needed a hug. I longed to feel connected and seen in my vulnerable position, so I opened up to a friend.
I told her about the hard and holy season I was walking through with all the vulnerable and hopeful details. I was eager to find the connection and care I was looking for.
A few weeks later, that was massively and heartbreakingly taken advantage of.
As a Christin, I wanted to be open—to share about my valleys knowing that I am not alone in them and that they don’t define me. But in a moment of betrayal, I realized that wisdom tells us to be cautious with those deeper matters of our hearts for a reason.
I knew I was made for connection and I also knew creating and sustaining those connections required vulnerability—but in that moment, I was saddened that something close and personal to me was treated carelessly.
I needed to protect my sacred story. And in that moment, I was full of regret for choosing to entrust it to the wrong person.
There have been moments where I have felt God revealed to me who was a safe person and who wasn’t. “The mouth speaks what the heart is full of” (Luke 6:45) and when we listen to people, they often reveal to us where their heart is. I listened to people who minimized my experiences, people who repeated Christian cliches but didn’t have an understanding of biblical literacy, people who gossiped, and people who seemed supportive in a present moment but failed to ever follow up or check in later.
I was afraid I was becoming more guarded—was I too guarded?
There is a part of me that still feels like the college version of myself who would sit in the dorm hallway leaning against the walls late into the night, microwaving ramen and listening to girl after girl share confessions deep from her heart, knowing we didn’t really know each other that well outside of those cherished moments.
I long to connect, to be known, and to have those classic Christian girl coffee dates where we dump our hardest and holiest moments on our first meeting.
But here’s what I’ve learned in hindsight: not everyone has the emotional maturity, spiritual depth, or compassion to hold a hard story.
And, we can be vulnerable and find those deep connections while still guarding our own hearts (Proverbs 4:23) and walking with the wise (Proverbs 13:20).
When someone asked me for advice about opening up to a more public audience about something they were walking through, I told her about the example of Jesus. When we look at his friendships, we see a difference in what he shared with the crowds, the disciples, and his closest select few.
I often share the same story at varying levels. When I’m in the thick of it—I’m cautious and share with my closest few. When it becomes a testimony I might share more broadly, but often there are details I cherish in my heart and keep close.
Our stories are sacred—especially when they are fresh or in progress. Those simply cannot be entrusted to everyone.
If I were to go and give myself some advice when I look back on the moment when I decided the friend who had betrayed the safety of my story was no longer a safe landing place for me anymore, it would be this: discernment is not judgmental—it is protective and wise.
Sometimes, I’m so afraid of hurting someone else’s feelings, I brush my own discernment aside. In that case, I took a risk and looking back I wished I had paid more attention to why I had felt uncomfortable around that person before because the evidence was there before the betrayal happened.
I often have moments now where people will ask specific questions and I’ll give vague answers. Not because I’m withholding information or connection from them but because I am allowing the Spirit to help me discern with patience if the person I’m talking to can be trusted with my story, and if so, how much of it.
It can be hard to discern whether of not someone is trustworthy. And truthfully, I’ve often had to have clarifying moments like the one I shared to reveal to me who someone was. But I also have some examples of things that help me discern if I want to trust someone with my story (or more of it.)
Here are a few of my guiding questions:
-Does this person listen to my problems without trying to solve them?
-Does this person hold confidentiality well?
-Does this person love me for me (without what I give to them)?
-Is this person emotionally mature?
-Is this person spiritually grounded in truth?
-Does this person invite God into what they don’t understand?
-Is this a person who has a personal prayer life?
-When I hear this person talk about other people, would I be comfortable if they talked about me in the same way?
-When I am around this person how do I feel in my physical body?
-What does this person’s words tell me about what is in their heart?
If you are in one of those seasons where you need a safe place for your story and feel isolated and alone in what you’re walking through—I pray that the Holy spirit helps you discern who you can entrust your story to. And if you aren’t sure which people, know that God is always a safe place for you, even when people fail. You are allowed to set boundaries, you are allowed to share what you’re comfortable with at varying levels with different people, and you are able to protect what is sacred to you.
And if, like me, you have to learn the hard way every once in a while—God will meet you there too—with comfort, grace, and provision of the kind of people you want to be there not to just hear the next story, but to walk alongside you in the valley when you’re in it.
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