No Deceit

Lately, I've been thinking about how I need to up my level of vulnerability. With people that I trust, but more specifically, with people that I don't. Is this along the lines of loving not only your friends (why should you get credit for that?), but also your enemies? I don't really have enemies. Who would pick a fight with me? The closest thing I have to an enemy is when I don't know what the other person thinks of me.

Somehow that feels like walking on unfriendly territory.

I work so hard to protect myself. Selective revealing of my heart to those that will appreciate the particular morsel. You want to talk about God? I'll talk about God. You want to talk about T.V. shows. Me too. Recipes. I just found one the other day... I've always been quick to accomodate and sympathize with every situation. I consider it a strength, but within this strength is the seed for its own destruction.

I'm not fake. I'm just careful. I don't lie. But, according to 1 Peter 2:1, I am deceiving. That sounds worse.

"So be done with every trace of wickedness (depravity, malignity) and all deceit and insincerity (pretense and hypocrisy) and grudges (envy, jealousy) and slander and evil speaking of every kind." (Amplified version)

Be done with every trace of deceit and insincerity. Tell the truth. How am I really feeling today? What do I really think about that situation? If we can always get along, then you won't have to neglect me on purpose. But if I don't reveal myself, you won't be accepting or neglecting anything of substance. Help me, God. To be transparent. To be strong. To be humble.

I want friends that can see the dust on my shelves and the fingerprints on my glass table top. That know what I look like without makeup and see my hair before those awkward fly away pieces are straightened out. And to know they are coming over to see me, not to see a reflection of themselves.