Naked Spirituality
Listen: “The Story” by Bandi Carlile
Several year ago (2012), I remember hearing Brené Brown give a TED talk entitled “The Power of Vulnerability.” In the talk, Brené modeled vulnerability by sharing some personal struggles. The talk went viral. Millions of people viewed the talk, and I remember Brené reflecting on her experience. She said she felt like she had a “vulnerability hangover.” I can relate. There are times when I have shared personal struggles and questioned myself: “Why did I just expose myself and get emotionally naked before an individual or a group of people? Should I have done that? Was it helpful to me or to them?” I have an impulse to hide my shame and personal struggles, so when I share my struggles with others I can feel like I have a “vulnerability hangover.” However, hiding is not always the best way to heal from shame and inspire others along the way. How do we practice appropriate vulnerability?
Three years ago, I was the Senior Pastor of one of the largest churches in the greater Kansas City area—a church I started in 1990 with five people. Three years ago (November 10, 2018), I went to rehab in Georgia to detox from prescription Xanax and alcohol. When I returned home to Kansas City on March 1, 2019, I was unemployed and going through a divorce. In what felt like a flash, I lost my forty-year career as a pastor, my thirty-seven year marriage, my church community which I loved, and my faith which felt shattered. In a matter of months, I lost all four pillars of my life which I had spent a lifetime building—career, marriage, community, and faith. (See David Brooks, The Second Mountain.)
One year ago, I felt led to start telling my story publicly. It wasn’t an easy decision. I was extremely anxious about telling my story publicly. In fact, when I returned home in March of 2019, I wanted to leave Kansas City and simply hide in another city. The reason? Three weeks after I went to rehab, my most private, shameful behavior was broadcast publicly. I had only shared this information with a few people very close to me. While I was isolated in rehab, my picture appeared on the front page of the Kansas City Star Sunday edition (Sunday, December 6, 2018). There was a two-page article explaining to the world that I was an alcoholic, a drug addict, and an adulterer. This information quickly went around the world on religious news feeds. When I found out about this while isolated in rehab, I was humiliated, mortified, and wanted to disappear. So deciding to tell my story publicly was a big deal to me.
Telling my story privately. Long before I started sharing my story publicly, I started sharing my story privately with a few select individuals. In 2019 I was angry, depressed, and in a very dark place mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. I felt like an atheist (even though I knew I wasn’t), and I had done some things of which I was ashamed. I felt like I had been stripped naked publicly with my most vulnerable self exposed. I hated myself, and I was angry. I knew I needed a few close friends with whom I could share everything. I knew these friends needed to be people I could trust with my life, but my trust in friends had been dramatically shaken. Regardless, I knew I needed to trust a few.
At this point, I was thinking about the importance of confession. There is a passage in the Bible which says: “Confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed” (James 5:16). I knew I needed healing, and I knew confession was good for the soul. As a pastor, I had been the recipient of thousands of confessions, so I knew the value of it. In 2019, I had also started attending a recovery group and found a sponsor. In the Big Book of AA (Alcoholics Anonymous, p. 58), it says: “Rarely have we seen a person fail who has thoroughly followed our path. Those who do not recover are people who cannot or will not completely give themselves to this simple program, usually men and women who are constitutionally incapable of being honest with themselves.” I committed myself to brutal honesty with my sponsor and three or four other close friends. One of the friends was a pastor and my freshman roommate in college. He had been a lifelong friend. I also was meeting with two different female therapists and one of the top addiction doctors in the Midwest. I was privately being brutally honest with this select group of people.
People often ask me what they should confess to others. I truly believe that every human needs confession. I believe it is important for everyone to confess their deepest, most shameful secrets to someone. “Your only as sick as your secrets” is a famous adage of recovery. Shame festers in the darkness of secrecy. Telling your story to someone who loves you and who will keep on loving you is a vital component of healing shame. Perhaps this is why some people don’t share their story with someone—they think they will end up being rejected and unloved. I would encourage anyone to begin by sharing with at least one person, maybe a therapist, a sponsor, a close friend, or a pastor. It’s critical for the healing process.
Telling my story publicly. As a pastor, you give up a big portion of your privacy. Other public or semi-public figures do the same thing. There are some professions that are far more public than others. News and social media sources thrive on negative stories of public figures. They love to publish shameful, juicy details about public people—it sells. There are social media news sources which do nothing else but publish embarrassing, private information about public figures—it sells.
Some people had already been telling my story publicly, but no one had heard from me. After consulting with my close inner circle of friends and counselors and seeking God’s direction, I decided to start telling my story publicly. I had several reasons for making this decision: (1) I wanted to take ownership for my behavior and ask people to forgive me. I felt like I had potentially hurt or disappointed thousands of people; (2) I wanted to own my story at the level with which it had been published. I actually didn’t have the resources to do this because the sources that published the negative stories aren’t usually interested in publishing the positive. The Kansas City Star isn’t going to put me on the front page for my progress in recovery. But, I opened a website and started posting on social media for those who were interested; (3) I wanted to be brutally honest about the process. I didn’t emerge publicly as fully healed. That’s a process that includes doubts, fears, darkness, questions, and the struggle to find faith. The journey of faith is not an easy road filled with religious platitudes; and (4) I wanted people to be able to follow and learn from my journey of recovery. I am a teacher at heart. It’s what God called me to do—a pastor/teacher. So my hope is that people will learn and grow with me.
Oversharing. Most people don’t need to share their secrets publicly. I have observed people oversharing in group settings and on social media. It is not a healthy practice. Oversharing can even be harmful to yourself or other people. Sharing too many details, sharing about other people, sharing with untrustworthy people could constitute oversharing. I would encourage people to share in private with a trusted friend or therapist before ever sharing shameful experiences publicly. It would be wise to get input and counsel from a therapist. I have had mental health professionals giving me input on virtually everything I have shared publicly. People post way too much information in a fit of anger or after having a few drinks. Texting or posting when intoxicated is never a good idea! Sharing publicly is an art form.
Owning our story. Brené Brown says, “When we deny the story, it defines us. When we own the story, we can write a brave new ending.” This is true for all of us. Your story, shared appropriately, can help you heal and have an inspirational impact on another person who is struggling. Don’t be afraid to share. Just do it wisely. There is power and freedom in honesty and self-compassion.
A friend of mine attended the Auschwitz Exhibition at Union Station in Kansas City, and she shared this poem with me. Perhaps we all need to learn “to be dressed in our own skin”—beautiful flaws included.
You who are passing by
I beg you
Do something
Learn a dance step
Something to justify your existence
Something that gives you the right
To be dressed in your skin in your body hair
Learn to walk and to laugh
Because it would be too senseless
After all
For so many to have died
While you live
Doing nothing with your life.
(Auschwitz survivor Charlotte Delbo, 1971)
Shalom
©realfredherron, 2021
