Every September, I find myself dodging students on the sidewalks of the university campus again.

I bend my introvert’s will into submission and force myself to hold my head up when an intimidatingly tall man walks past me. I use my hands enthusiastically when I introduce myself in class. Fake confidence can be necessary and good.

Sometimes, though, I just want to tell the whole class that I’m scared to death of all of them and their hard-to-read faces and their relaxed body language.

I want someone in the class to tell me something sincere, tell me something they fear.

But, we’re strangers after all. It’s not the land of unicorns.

I get that.

But…

At home, I put on a light-hearted tone with my roommate, not willing to let myself be vulnerable. I realize my class on “networking” and “selling yourself” is easily transferred to my familiar kitchen with the light-bulb illuminating the contours of her face.

How many times do we hide from loved ones?

And I get to my bedroom and I cannot speak to God of my specific sin, as if He doesn’t see it if I don’t tell Him.

Are we made of plastic?

Still in Eden, hiding behind bushes.

Our heart is who we are anyway. There comes a time to be vulnerable.

“But the Lord said to Samuel, ‘Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him. For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.’” 1 Samuel 16:7