guarded

Someone told me this week that I'm hard to read. I think I laughed, because I've always seen myself as one who wears her heart on her sleeve. I look around me and I'm convinced that everyone can see exactly what I'm thinking and feeling, that I'm an open book. But am I really?

I find myself walking a fine line between guarding my heart and letting my guard down. It's such a blurry line, too, because as a Christian I'm called to do both. I'm called to be open and honest and unafraid of my vulnerabilities... yet I'm commanded to guard my heart, for it is the wellspring of life. How do I know which to do when? Am I guarding my heart too closely in areas of my life where I should be letting it down? But what if I let it down, expose my vulnerabilities, and end up abused or rejected? I'm sure my experience is nothing new or unheard of: being hurt deeply enough that building up walls around my heart is a basic survival skill, a way of life... an addiction that's hard to break. I know what it's like to peek over my wall now and then, to let someone in, but that world outside is still too scary, too painful to venture into again. And so I wait to be rescued.

But on the other hand, how can I be salt and light when I'm locked in my own little world? And how can that light even shine if I'm all bottled up and closed off? How will my rescuer know where to find me? And how will he know that I'm in such desperate need of rescuing if he can't see beyond the walls?

There's a compromise around here somewhere, but I think I need to peek out from behind my fortress to find it... and that's a frightening prospect...