I had the beginnings of a deep thought at work today while I was packaging die cuts. (Packaging die cuts is quite conducive to deep thought...very Zen.) My friend Donna asked me the other day why people blog:“Why are these so hot? Like, what's in us to be so into both writing them and reading them?? Is it our strong, innate desire to be known? Are we less known in our culture today?? Do you feel more ‘known’ yourself when you peer into someone else’s thought life?”
I told her I didn’t know, but it made me start to think about why I finally decided blogging would be worthwhile for me to do. Specifically, why do I want to be known? Even more specifically—do I want to be known?
I have always been a reserved person, even as a child. Being honest with people is hard for me, showing my flaws and faults is hard for me, making myself vulnerable is very hard for me. I have always felt lonely because I never feel like people know me, and yet I am the one who is unwilling to really let people know me. It takes a long time for me to let down the barriers, and in most of my relationships, the barriers never come down completely. Worse yet, on occasions when I do push down a few stones from the wall, I almost always deeply regret it. Or I am made to regret it.
So I’ve been a little frustrated with my blogging so far—I feel like I need to be more personal and deep so that whoever reads my blog will know me better, and yet--! There are people who know me in “real life” who may end up reading this blog! How can I be real and personal in front of them?
It was that thought that really brought me up short. I can write about personal things for the relative strangers who might stumble across it, but the thought of a friend or family member actually reading what I truly feel—that appalls me. Um, yeah. Anybody have a pickax? Because I’ve got a bonafide Red Communist-type Berlin Wall around my true self, and I don’t think that’s helping me anymore in my life. If it ever did. Which it probably didn’t.
Our friends Brian and Sonja got married last spring in a very old and beautiful Episcopal church in
Except instead of the word “know,” this particular translation used the word “understand.”
“…then shall I understand, even as I am fully understood.”
Well. It was one of those moments that just slaps you between the eyes. That little word change made all the difference. God understands me. Sure, he knows me, he’s known me before I was ever conceived, as the psalm says, that’s old news to me, but—he understands me. And he doesn’t just understand me—he fully understands me.
This seems to me to be really what we crave in life. It’s easy to know stuff. I know all kinds of stuff, from WW II history to useless movie trivia to the birthdays of everyone in my family. And I know a lot of people. I’ve encountered lots of people, and I know them, to one degree or another.
But understanding? That’s on a whole other level. The TV news channels are full of people who know stuff…but how often do you see anyone who actually understands anything? Understanding runs deeper. It’s knowing what’s underlying, what the undercurrents are, what’s underground. It’s seeing the underpinnings and what’s way down underneath. See that common word? If God understands me, if he fully understands me, then he sees everything I’ve got down under. And if the verse is true, then he gets it and he accepts it. All of it.
So maybe some of us out here are blogging to be known, and maybe some of us are blogging to be understood. Or to understand ourselves. Or maybe it’s a mixture of all of those things. I don’t know who will read this after I hit post. And I think I’m okay with that. It’s a tiny step towards knocking down a piece of wall and allowing myself to be known. And maybe even understood.