Vulnerability and Weakness: The Soil for Profound Creativity

Is it possible that limitation, fragility and their accompanying weakness are, by the wisdom of God, a baked-in feature of life?

Our vulnerability is the very state that enables the greatest potential for creating something new…it is our brokenness that God intends to use to create something new.

—Parker Palmer, On The Brink of Everything

“Welcome and cherish strength.”

“Avoid weakness and vulnerability at all costs.” 

“Fix brokenness, fast.”

That is what I’ve always thought, anyway.

Perfectionism is deep in my bones. I’m not sure if that’s what led me into the achievements connected to athletics, or if pursuing athletic proficiency taught it to me. In either case, I have deep and extensive experience in trying to be fully competent and to get things perfectly right. I also have decades of resisting it. 

Photo by Vicky Sim on Unsplash

As an elementary-school boy, I shot free throws in my driveway until dark. After dark, I would rig up whatever lighting I could think of to keep practicing, not stopping until the angle of my elbow was consistently perfect, the use of my legs utterly dependable, my eye trained to never leave a specific spot on the rim, expecting to see perfect rotation on the ball. I wouldn’t quit until I could make at least 10 shots in a row, preferably 20.

All that effort made good sense to me: Why would someone want to be vulnerable to missing a shot when it was game time? Wouldn’t you do anything, go to any length, to avoid looking bad, letting your teammates down, maybe contributing to losing a game?

To be clear, there can be an innocent joy in the effort I describe. I sometimes experienced it. But too often, my effort was motivated by disordered desires. 

As an adult, it never seemed right to me that I unavoidably live and do my work from a place marked by various vulnerabilities. I’ve heard artists do their best creative work from deeply honest places within themselves. But what does that look like for a person like me who, as a teacher and leader, is supposed to be right, not honest in some artsy way? Surely such honesty cannot be preferred over, or even accepted alongside, accuracy, truth and precision of insight.

Wouldn’t God want to make me stronger, even the strongest I could possibly be, to the point of being invulnerable? What is the goodness in a life that includes vulnerability? What is the righteous potential of days marked by brokenness? 

And why would God allow aging? I’m 66. This morning at the gym, a young woman opened the door for me with a “poor old guy” empathy I am seeing more and more. The young men in the locker room call me “sir”! Getting older lessens my energy and slows me down, just when life’s familiarities have given me the most wisdom. Why does my body hurt in new places every day when life demands more capacity, more strength than ever? What good does God see in letting people misjudge, mislabel and misrepresent me? Wouldn’t God want me to stand tall in my work, unassailable in my perceptions, and irrefutable in my interpretations?  

Over the decades, I’ve resisted my own vulnerability at every turn. Sought perfection. But I’m exhausted. I’ve got to find another way. 

Is it possible that limitation, fragility and their accompanying weakness are, by the wisdom of God, a baked-in feature of life? Is Parker Palmer right that vulnerability and weakness are the soil for profound creativity? 

Embracing Vulnerability

Jesus talked about vulnerability, and Paul rejoiced in his weaknesses. But Jesus was God and Paul wrote important parts of the Bible. They could get away with a little exposure to brokenness. What about us mere mortals? How do we adopt a worldview that embraces faults, failings and fragility?

First off, Bible passages are not just spiritual sayings but rather the lived reality of our ancestors in the faith. For instance, the Psalmist somehow gained the experiential knowledge that:

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
Psalm 34:18

A broken and contrite heart you, God, will not despise.
Psalm 51:17

The writer of Hebrews knew something fundamental about Christian spirituality:

We do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses.
Hebrews 4:15

Paul twice said he boasted in his weaknesses (2 Cor. 11:30; 12:9). That’s hard for a perfectionist to take in, but it raises the question, How does one seek an inner life in which such a statement is honestly true?

Peter’s weaknesses and mistakes were often on public display.

John had real issues with power—both wanting it (sitting at Jesus’ right hand) and desiring to misuse it (calling down fire from heaven). Yet, “he was the apostle whom Jesus loved” and was known for his spiritual wisdom and deep love.

What can bring all this together in some actionable way?

Poverty of Spirit

Jesus, beginning his public teaching, said: Blessed are those who are poor in spirit (Mt. 5:3). He was referring to those who humbly recognize their need for God in every area of their life and work. I have found this is something we must not only embrace but cultivate. That, in turn, means I must fearlessly name and work with the vulnerability and brokenness that Palmer says is the source of creativity that is edifying, that nurtures the souls of others.

The deliverance from my neurosis is down a path marked Poor in Spirit. The steps along this path are taken by cultivating a moment-by-moment dependance on God, humbling myself, emptying myself, and trusting Jesus that it is true: Blessed are the meek. Jesus promises that at the end of such a path is life in the Kingdom of God—living in the expression of God’s person, his dynamic, wise and loving rule and reign.

In 2023, I feel an invitation to make meaning of my imperfections in light of God’s perfections, trusting that when I honestly work in that synergy, neither denying nor confusing the two, good things happen.

I think I’ve got it—Lord, help me to live it.