I learned something beautiful the other day. The greek root of the word vulnerable, is vulnus – which means wound.

If you have kept up with this blog, you know my deep love for words. It makes me fall in love with words even more when I learn the root of them, the base of where these words have come from.

We all carry wounds. I’ve written about these wounds before, but I was reminded of them once again in class the other day when I my professor taught us the root word of vulnerable. We were learning about the myths involving love, which led to a conversation about woundedness and our vulnerability surrounding these wounds that we all carry.

In chapel on Wednesday, the topic of feet washing, the bringing low to serve was taught. This poem that I wrote on wednesday came out of both of those teachings.

scandalous love 

to love is to open the wound

the vulnerability of showing up 

knowing the greek word for vulnerable 

is Vulnus

a wound 

wounds on Jesus’s hand and side

the wound of rejection 

cast on him from one he loved 

the betrayal of a kiss 

wounding deeper than 

lips to cheek 

shown through foot washing

the bending of a knee 

before those he loved

graphic humility 

shown through 

a basin

a jar of water 

and a towel 

revolutionary   love 

through the act

of serving

a showing of 





that sets us free. 

I was sitting in a meeting the other day, and we were talking about what it meant for vulnerability in leadership positions. What would it look like for me to share at the ministry that I run, these wounds that I carry? The beautiful thing about this idea of vulnerability is it allows people to realize that they might be carrying the same type of wound. For instance, I know what it’s like to be really hurt in friendships. This is one of many wounds that I carry within, but I have also been able to see how this wound has connected me with some incredible people who have shared similar experiences with friendships.

All of a sudden, you begin to realize that you aren’t the only person carrying wounds. You realize that you are not alone. That people too, have been where you are. All of a sudden, it’s a “hey, I know what that’s like, because I have experienced that too.”

I don’t know what kind of wounds you carry. I do know that each and everyone of us carries wounds because of our humanness. You aren’t alone in your woundedness.


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joy soaked words

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