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emotionally safe place

When my husband and I tied the knot, I was pounds lighter–and not just because that was four kids ago. I was peering over the edge of anorexia.

My carefully constructed salads for most meals and stringent rules for all things eating meant I was consuming around 1200 calories a day. I jogged relentlessly. And I was only beginning to recognize the deep dysfunction beneath my white-knuckled control over my life–complete with spiritual overtones.

At a retreat where I spoke this weekend, someone asked me how I managed to crawl out of the quicksand of an eating disorder. And there’s an answer waaaay longer than the 800 words of this post.

But the short answer?

The Holy Spirit used my marriage for sweeping, humbling change. And an essential part of that was my husband assuring me he loved me better with my people-pleasing, achieving mask off.  He insisted he liked my nerdy, awkward, too-enthusiastic, always-trying-too-hard self.

Him being an emotionally safe place? That showed me Jesus.

I tell you this because I believe strongly in the transformative power of intimate, soul-baring community. I believe holistically “naked and unashamed ” marriages (Genesis 2:25) can turn the world on its head.

Warning: this kind of marriage doesn’t just happen. It’s created.

It takes tenacious trust and courage; vulnerability and safety. But who doesn’t want their marriage to be an emotionally safe place? Their soul’s home on earth?

Start here.

10 Ways to Be an Emotionally Safe Place

Nix the defensiveness.

Being an emotionally safe place says, I can stay open to what you have to say, even though I would rather be having a mole removed.

This doesn’t mean you have to agree; true care looks like boundaries. But it does mean taking ownership for what is yours–the log in your eye, so to speak.

And it means hearing what someone is saying rather than getting hung up on the mental static of how it’s said.

Get honest about your own junk.

I’m amazed by how judgment begets judgment. Confession: If I sense someone’s critical of me, especially without grace…I want to be critical right back. (Not a stellar quality.)

But vulnerability begets vulnerability. You probably already know which friends you’d feel comfortable with if they knocked on your front door and the place wasn’t a mess, or you were sporting your PJ’s.

It’s probably those who show they’re cool not having it all together–by being their messy selves.

Same thing with your spouse. When I was struggling with my eating, my husband helped me take off my mask by taking off his. He talked about his own sin and weakness, and apologized for what he did wrong.

(Tough to get vulnerable? Try reading The Stories We Don’t Tell: On Choosing Vulnerability.)

Get rid of pat answers.

Sadly, it’s the misplaced Bible verses and trite Christian sayings poking out like a hangnail when we’re processing grief, leaving us a little rawer, a little more inflamed.

The offense of platitudes can lie in what they’re truly communicating: Your problem is plug-and-play.  I will choose something used for someone else’s problem and apply it to yours.

Read: You are a problem to be solved. I didn’t hear your heart and what you truly needed, but I would like to fix it.

So often, when we’re sharing our hearts—that holy ground—we are looking for someone to simply bear a burden too leaden and misshapen for our own shoulders to bear.

Galatians chimes in here: Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ (6:1).  Burden-bearing is messy and self-sacrificial and involved, and decidedly un-formulaic.

I’ve posted before about grief, and our need as Christians to have answers for some of the baffling, soul-rattling circumstances God allows. Sometimes I have been hasty to set aside the ambiguity I loathe–ambiguity about God’s character. I have flailed about for answers that fail to encompass the horror before me.

But Jesus knew every truth there on his knees in the dirt of Gethsemane. He knew God had a plan, knew God would resurrect Him. But he needed to grieve, cry out, and commune with God in abject pain.

More than leaping to a resurrection, a safe person stops and absorbs some of the weight.

Wait at least 3 seconds before responding.

Rather than rushing in with encouragement or response, push open a window for your spouse to say more.

I’m often amazed at what people will say in silence–space I might have filled with something way less valuable than what’s on their mind. (Especially for my husband, an introvert.)

Be an emotionally safe place by being quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry (James 1:19).

Create white space in your calendar.

The right to be welcomed into someone’s most vulnerable concerns is earned—through quality time. Small talk. Meaningful gestures when times are hard. Your own vulnerability. (Check out ideas for each love language here.)

Intimacy and presence aren’t turned on and off like a faucet: “I’m here! Disclose your deepest secrets!”

They need space and rapport–gained through a few laughs while cleaning up dinner, or minutes without a device in hand, or anything other than hustle.

Make a habitual time for connecting.

We maintain habits to make sure we don’t have bad breath before work, or pick up the kids from school. We make space for what matters.

Can relational priorities make the list, too?

See, vulnerability is like a muscle. When it’s not frequently used, things can come out awkwardly…or much worse, not at all. Remember that if your marriage isn’t moving toward closeness, it’s moving toward isolation.

Are you growing your ability to be vulnerable?

Maybe you and your spouse enjoy a cup of decaf or a walk after dinner. Or before you turn to Netflix at night, you spend 10 minutes unpacking the day.

Ask 3 degrees of why.

When my husband leads me to my own answers, tacking on a few potent insights, it’s 100 percent more effective than his own spiel. He’s an emotionally safe place because he provides a home for me to unpack my junk–and helps me do it.

Ask questions that gently, respectfully help isolate the real issues with which their hearts are colliding:

  • What was that like?
  • Are there any other reasons that __?
  • What are you afraid will happen?
  • What do you want most to protect, or just avoid?
  • That sounds incredibly tough. How do you think God’s wanting you to respond?
  • What do you feel like doing?
  • What do you think you need?
  • I’m hearing that ___ is really important to you. Do you think it’s become too important?
  • What do you wish you could say?
  • What do you wish that person would understand?
  • I like David Powlison’s X-Ray Questions, as well. And this series offers loads of questions just to take your relationships to the next, deeper level.

When in doubt, start with “three degrees of why”.

A great listener can carry the power to help you walk away with a deeper knowledge of yourself.

For example, if your spouse is wrestling with discontent at their job,

  • why do they suspect their boss’ hide is chapped?
  • Maybe it’s because their boss is constantly discontent. Why does this bother your spouse so much?
  • Say your spouse is bothered because they love pleasing people. Why is failing to please someone so scary?

A great listener can carry the power to help you walk away with a deeper knowledge of yourself.

Practice your unshocked face.

When a spouse reveals tough, potentially shameful, or embarrassing stories, don’t let your reactions add to their stress.

Sympathy Drama.

Being an emotionally safe place doesn’t mean getting sucked in—at least in a way that perpetuates anger or hurt. This is my weakness: occasionally feeling something so much with someone that I actually don’t help restore or repair.

Once, before I met with a friend whose marriage was on the rocks, my husband wisely told me, “Remember to talk to her in a way that helps her to go home and still be married.”

He explained that my sympathy could further divide her from her husband—or, alternatively, help her return to her problems with renewed strength, vision, and courage.

Repeat back.

Reiterate what you think they’re saying: “Are you saying that…” “So I hear you saying…” “Am I getting you?” “Is that what you’re trying to say?”

Help me out. What’s the best thing someone around you does to be an emotionally safe place?

Comment below!

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