Grace and Nakedness

Grace and Nakedness--July 12, 2016

"For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known." [1 Corinthians 13:12]

At the risk of sounding hopelessly old-fashioned, I believe that nudity is not something to be taken casually.  Nakedness--whether physical or of the soul--is not something to be offered up lightly, or glibly, or recklessly... because to be naked is to be vulnerable.

If you think about it, in our lives, there are really two basic kinds of times for people to be naked--either in deep intimacy, or deep awkwardness.  Infants who are being washed by a loving parent are totally vulnerable, and yet feel totally safe.  They are not ashamed because they have not yet learned to be--they are not afraid of someone seeing their nakedness because they do not yet fear being rejected.  And of course as an adult, to be naked in front of someone you love is meant to be an occasion of total comfort, complete assurance--in which you are so assured that you are loved as you are, so confident that you are accepted unconditionally, and so grounded in the knowledge that the one who sees you deems you utterly precious, that you are no longer afraid of letting wrinkles or lines, rolls or scars be seen.  Those are moments of total vulnerability, but they are beautiful moment of building trust because of that.  The other kind--the moments of deep awkwardness--are uncomfortable precisely because you find yourself naked in front of someone who has  given no assurance of accepting you.  The doctor's office examination table, or the hospital bed, feels weird because a bunch of strangers who don't care at all about you get to see you in your birthday suit.  Your vulnerability is not matched with an appropriate response from the people in the white coats or scrubs--only sterile detachment.

(And on a side note, that's also why I am willing to risk sounding hopelessly old-fashioned about saying NO to casual sex apart from the promises of lifetime fidelity, promises that we usually just call "marriage."  I am less worried that someone who has sex out of marriage, or lives with someone before marriage, or cheats on their current partner is automatically going to hell.  But rather, it's because sex involves nakedness, and to be so totally vulnerable, whether physically or emotionally, with someone else without the assurance of the other person's unconditional love is setting yourself up for heartbreak.  It sets us up for risking ourselves, giving ourselves away to the other, only to have them not reciprocate or to be using us rather than treasuring us.  It's not about stodgy rules for the sake of rules--it's because the total vulnerability of being naked is bound to leave you anxious and worried about being rejected, unless you know the one who sees you naked loves you, accepts you as you are, and promises to be there with you no matter what you look like.  Heck, it's hard enough even for people who are married to assure each other of their unconditional love, and there are surely plenty of times when even those commitments cannot be kept--how much more risky a place do we put ourselves in to offer ourselves up completely without those promises and commitment!  In other words, it's not that nakedness is sinful--it is that it is holy and precious--that I am convinced I have to say NO to endorsing anybody having sex outside of promises.  Just saying.)

That's one of the beautiful things about the storytelling of Genesis 2, where it says that the first humans (they don't get names until later on in the story) "were naked and were not ashamed." It's not being naked that is our problem--at least not as we were meant to be.  The problem is that we live in a world so distorted by self-centered sin like the warped space around a black hole that we do are afraid now. We are afraid of being hurt, being rejected, being unloved, that we put guards up, and we hold back our truest selves for fear that we will not be accepted.  It is true with the self-protective attitudes we project, the distance we maintain toward others, and yes, even with the coverings we put on our bodies (or cosmetics and colorings to make us look other than we truly are).  We have learned to cover ourselves up--physically, spiritually, and emotionally--to avoid being hurt.

This is what makes the grace of God in Christ so terribly, wonderfully powerful: we are seen fully, as we really are, by the living God--and we are beloved precisely in that nakedness.  When Paul wrote to the Corinthians that one day we will know "fully, even as I have been fully known," he is confessing that already God sees him totally naked--not just his short bald body (yep, his nickname "Paul" means "short" or "small"), but his deepest self on the inside, too.  Paul is holding out the promise that in glory--in the new creation--we will once again no longer be afraid to be naked anymore, because we will be surrounded fully and completely by the grace of God, who sees us with perfect clarity and loves us unconditionally anyway already.  In fact, faith in the present moment means we acknowledge now that God already sees us as we are, completely, warts and all, sins and all, failures and fears and ugly parts and all, and loves us completely right now.   We cannot see ourselves yet that way.  We cannot see other people that way perfectly, either.  But God already does.  God already knows you and me fully--and still calls us precious.

In other words, the grace of Christ means that I can trust God knows me more fully than I know myself, and still accepts me as I am.  I can bear to hear the truth about myself--and I can bear showing that truth to God in honest praying--because I know that no matter what I am or look like or struggle with, God calls me beloved.  The truth doesn't have to make me afraid, or fearful of what other people will think--no, the truth is one more way of seeing grace.  Because even when I am worried that someone else might reject me if they saw all the way down into my deepest self (the same way I get self-conscious on the doctor's office butcher paper), I have the assurance that the living God sees me all the way down, unflinchingly, and still calls me beloved.

In a sense, the whole Christian life is a matter of learning to live like that is true: that the Maker of the universe sees us even down to our naked spirits, and loves us anyway, even though we are all sporting secret hates, selfish pockets, unflattering fears, and the scars of past failures and bad choices.  The living God sees me, not just skin naked, but soul naked, and by grace still calls me precious... beloved... beautiful.

On days when God's Word comes at us with ruthless efficiency, calling us to account for our sin, taking off our masks, deflating our puffed up egos, and pulling back our pretense, it can be hard. Sometimes that feels like nothing but relentless law and no comfort--but in a sense, that is really the prelude to the deepest word of grace there is: the knowledge that we are seen fully, known fully, and yet are loved anyway.  Even when God's Spirit pokes me and reveals my ugly selfishness or cruel thoughts, I need that poking (oddly enough) in order to fully understand that God sees me as I am and still accepts me.  Without the vulnerability of knowing God sees me all the way down, I might still harbor this fear, "Oh, God surely couldn't love me if God saw this about me..."  In a sense, grace can only be fully known when our souls are naked.

Don't take that casually--there are still lots of other people around you who will not offer you unconditional acceptance and love.  In fact, most everybody in our lives is after something, or is selling something, or has a catch, or will not muster real unconditional love.  Don't give yourself away to them.  Don't fall for their empty words.  Don't let just anybody see you naked, in other words--in your body or your soul.

But do know that the living God sees you, and the living God sees me, in the utter truth of who we are, with complete and perfect clarity--and nevertheless calls you beautiful... blessed... beloved... and precious.  You are precious.  You are precious.  You are precious.  It is safe to be so completely vulnerable before God.  Dare to be completely real with God today.

Lord God, you who see us as we are--give us the courage to bare our souls to you with the confidence we have for our closest friends who see those same naked souls.  Give us the confidence of your unconditional love, so that we can see and bear the truth about ourselves.