Some people are better than others at being authentic. They're people comfortable in their own skin, so self-aware that nothing is off the table for discussion, not their fears, not their failures, not their insecurities. They navigate taboo topics effortlessly--almost defiantly, but never forcefully. They, unlike the rest of us, do not rush ahead to the end of the conversation weaving through guilt and shame, just hoping, hoping to come out unscathed. No, these people arrive gracefully, short-comings in hand.
My friend, T, is one of those people, unabashed in a way that is so comforting, so refreshing, so safe.
Her authenticity is like a salve on a tender burn, seeping deeply into a wound that has no other way to heal.
I had the pleasure of spending some time with T yesterday, doing the most authentic thing possible: getting coffee at a gas station--how much more real does life get than an empty gas tank and a caffeine headache? And as we shared our troubles in turn, wrestling together through our most recent manifestations of imperfection, I began to find myself again. This woman with her permanent judgement-free zone, with her open-air baggage was making space for me to realize me.
I don't think we much value authenticity; we don't strive for it. We make do, feigning humility when our faults embarrass us; boasting when they give us an edge, give us footing. People like T are rare, people with natural gifting that allows them to rise above our ordinary obsessions with saving-face. For them, authenticity is not a skill, learned by training and refined by practice, it's just something they carry with them like a charm on a bracelet. Good for them, we shrug, unaffected by their grace.
But I am beginning to think that authenticity might be worth learning, for those us of who aren't so good at it. T, who is willing to unfold the dark corners of herself, helps me to understand that our respective brokenness is worth knowing--that it is not worth hiding--because it creates a space for us to be known and to begin to heal. T's authenticity blesses me and teaches me that I could bless others, if only I could be so open as her. That if I stopped being so concerned with who I want people to think I am, and became more concerned about who we all really are, we could start getting somewhere.
And I wonder if this isn't what the bloodied Savior was telling us all along, this God-man come to earth to listen to demon-men and prostitutes and swindlers and thieves unravel their stories, come to earth to eat with them in their homes and walk along with them on their roads. And, because the only way to heal brokenness is to be broken, He who is Perfection allowed himself to be broken in the utmost, took on all our faults, to create a space for us to be known through eternity.
