On Vulnerability and Humility
On Vulnerability and Humility
About a year after stepping more deeply into my spiritual path, a series of events shifted everything I thought I knew. They pushed me into an entirely different understanding of what it means to grow spiritually. I came to see that integrity is the most important companion on this journey—and that vulnerability is the foundation on which integrity stands.
To be vulnerable is to offer your unguarded heart and truth without the guarantee of being met in kind. It means showing up with your flaws, your uncertainty, and even your pain. It means being willing to be seen in your imperfection and still stand in your truth.
Humility is what makes vulnerability possible. It’s the inner stance that allows us to admit when we’re wrong, to acknowledge our blind spots, and to stay open even when it would be easier to protect or defend.
Walking a spiritual path with our humanity front and center ensures that we’re doing the necessary work to become a worthy vessel for the blessings we receive. Vulnerability ensures that we remain open. Humility ensures that we remain grounded.
Together, they open us to a level of spiritual teaching that would otherwise remain inaccessible.
It takes a strong and mature person—spiritually and psychologically—to choose vulnerability. When we do, we often invite others’ projections. People may place their own unresolved pain or expectations onto us. Some will blame us for their discomfort or hope we will carry what is theirs to heal.
To the untrained eye, vulnerability can be mistaken for weakness. But when grounded in humility, it becomes a profound act of courage.
To stay the course, we must be anchored in our sense of self and in our connection to spirit. This is what allows us to hold space for misunderstanding, to remain open-hearted in the face of judgment, and to continue offering ourselves fully—even when it’s hard.
When we show up vulnerably, we offer others the chance to do the same. And when someone accepts that invitation, something sacred becomes possible. A depth of healing and connection that cannot happen in any other way. This is where real potential takes root—for both people.
As we deepen in our spiritual practice, we’re often entrusted with insights and gifts. But without humility, it becomes dangerously easy to misinterpret our intentions. We may begin to believe that we are above reproach, that our wisdom exempts us from the hard work of self-reflection. This is the subtle beginning of the spiritualized ego.
Vulnerability brings us back to ourselves. It asks us to look inward before offering correction or counsel to others. It asks us to own our mistakes, approach with humility, and when needed—make amends. It keeps us from becoming self-righteous and, in doing so, from doing harm in the name of good.
For me, the most profound teacher of both vulnerability and humility is Jesus.
He said, “Let he among you who is innocent cast the first stone.”
He offered these words to people convinced of their moral superiority. People who had used spiritual principles to justify cruelty.
The lesson is clear: when we lose sight of our own limitations—even while claiming to do good—we become misguided.
Each day gives us a choice: to be vulnerable, or to cast the first stone.
To lead with humility, or with ego.
One path lightens our burden. The other adds to it.
The more weight we let go of, the more light we let in.
I know, in my own life, I don’t always get it right. Vulnerability doesn’t always come first. Sometimes, I wait until I’ve created a sense of safety—until I’ve been validated or felt some semblance of control. But I am learning to trust more. To surrender more quickly. And with each step, I feel lighter. My insights deepen. My connection strengthens. My clarity expands.
In the end, all we truly have is the truth of our heart.
Not how many times we were right.
Not whether we were admired or understood.
What matters is that we’ve made amends where we’ve caused harm.
That we’ve owned our limitations.
That we’ve met each moment with as much care and clarity as we could.
To do this—to live this—requires both vulnerability and humility.
Together, they shape the heart of true spiritual leadership.
