Being understood is overrated.
That sentence is an ironic one to read in this “public diary” of sorts. Isn’t that a primary goal of the blogosphere? To be understood and to make others feel understood? To give people a bit of ourselves to grab onto so they can say, “Hey, me too!” or “Well I’ve never thought of it that way, but you’re right!” We measure our thoughts into words and bake them into the molds of DIY tips, nutritious (or not-so-nutritious) recipes, and general life musings, questions, or advice. These are not bad practices, to be sure, and the camaraderie they can foster is immensely beneficial. The community built on this sharing of minds is beautiful and encouraging. However, my quest to make others understand me has worn me out. Forcing people to see me in my desired light is a taxing pursuit. It takes much maneuvering, posing, shuffling, manipulating, and staging. All that movement has exhausted my energy and left me nothing but frustrated and still undecided on my favorite filter.
Fortunately, my current lowly state has made me realize how great of an idol my need to be “understood” or “known” has become. Friendships are precious, and unexpected acquaintances through the digital world are rewarding, but my need for approval from loved ones and strangers alike has become dangerous. I fight fiercely for my voice to be heard and my perspective to be shared, but I let despair overtake my heart when I don’t receive those things. I indulge in the darkness of “nobody cares,” “I’m worthless,” and “what’s the point?” My heart not only settles into self-loathing, but also into bitterness toward those who *make me feel insignificant (*I’ve always loved a good martyr complex). No matter how hard I try, I am not, nor cannot be, understood fully by my peers.
The issue at hand is not the corrupt underbelly of the blogosphere and its conspiracy to beat down the weakest links (a fun piece of future fiction?). The problem is the very real corruption in my heart. My desire and (dare I say it) expectation to be worshiped and lauded is out of control. I forget I am not Creator or Sustainer, Savior or Justifier. Additionally, I forget that I am known completely by the One who does hold those titles, and His is the knowing that matters. His knowing is always for my good. His knowing is always sincere. His knowing is always true. He understands my faults and my strengths, and He is capable of using both for His glory and my fulfillment in Him. And this is the solution: pursuing a life of humble holiness for God because He accepts me as His beloved child. I have no approval to gain from Him, no favor to increase in His eyes. He has freed me for a life of following Him. What other approval do I need?
The last few days I’ve been praying lines from a song we sing often in church: “Deliver me, O God . . . from the need to be understood/ . . . And I shall not want, no I shall not want/When I taste your goodness, I shall not want.” God’s goodness is sweeter than human acceptance and understanding. Do I still crave that acceptance? Absolutely. But do I know that God is better? Do I know He’s stronger than my logic? More triumphant than my won argument? More beautiful than my skyline snapshot with X number of likes? Yes, yes, yes, I do. He will spend the rest of my lifetime proving this to me over and over, faithfully turning my heart to Him. I am thankful for these lessons, as uncomfortable as they may be. God's goodness is good, even when it hurts.
