What does it mean to be known? Like, really known. I can tell you that I’m Hispanic and like almond butter, but would you know me?

I’m a twin and according to my parents, my sister and I had a language that only we knew. We spoke in jibberish and she would say something and I would say something and we’d cackle together and laugh. They recorded it in 1983 on a cassette tape that resurfaced recently. It sounded like we were speaking only to each other, as if we could read each other’s thoughts and finish each other’s sentences.

Is that being truly known?

A couple years ago the blockbuster hit Avatar hit the screen and I’ll never forget the most beautiful scene where Neytiri [the blue girl alien] holds her hand to Jake [the boy blue alien], face-to-face, eye-to-eye and says, “I see you.” It’s a scene that displays a deep understanding of the personal world of the other person.

  • It’s God and Adam in the Garden of Eden.
  • It’s David and Jonathon living out a true friendship.
  • It’s Ruth and Naomi on a hot, dusty desert road.

Each one of these characters had a moment of pain, a moment of broken peace, a shattering of Shalom. For Adam it was hiding the sin that he partook in, the hiding of his true sinful nature. For David it was the confession that he was being hunted by his best friend’s father. For Naomi it was the breakdown to her two daughter-in-laws on the road from Moab to Bethlehem, the house of bread, that she had nothing.

  • She didn’t have a husband.
  • She didn’t have sons.
  • She didn’t have money.
  • She was broken and destitute and poor

It’s in the confession of her pain and brokenness that her heart is revealed. Orpah, her daughter-in-law, choses to leave, but Ruth stays. In the ugliness, in the uncertainty, in the tension, she stays.

Vulnerability isn’t just a word we can say, it has to be lived. But sometimes the buzz words vulnerable and transparent are used with a certain aspect of tidbits of our edited life to keep people at bay and seem as if we are transparent. But if we don’t willingly sit in the tension of pain—if we don’t own the brokenness in our life—we will never be available to be truly known.

The fear and uncertainty of being known keep us from admitting that like Jacob, we walk with a limp. We hide our true selves, like Jonah who tried hiding the calling and commission given to him by Christ.

In fear, we begin to ask ourselves the famous questions:

  • What is going to be asked of us? 
  • What will others think? 
  • What if I fail? 
  • What if I’m rejected?

I’m painfully walking this out right now. You allow yourself to be known. You allow someone to come in and know your shortcomings. You trust people. You want to share your secrets and fears and speak jibberish to read each other’s thoughts and finish each other’s sentences.

But I feel rejected and embarrassed and unknown by people who I trusted.

Being known is our greatest desire and deepest fear. But being known takes risk. Are we as a people willing to reach deep down and wrestle with the honest place we are in? Can we still hold on to faith, hope and love, when all we see is doubt, failure, and rejection?

We can speak Christianese and hide behind Christian colloquialism, but nothing can bypass the labor of pain. When there is brokenness, failure, and pain, we don’t want silence, darkness, or trauma.

To deal with this pain, we cling to creating our own shalom, our own peace. We self medicate with food, false realities like social media, illicit relationships, to create the shalom in our life that has been broken. Death of dreams, death of aspirations, death of a relationship, death of a loved one, can cause us to isolate and withdraw from community.

Don’t give the enemy a stronghold in your life.

Deal with your pain. Willingly enter into your story. If we don’t deal with our pain we will never be available to be known.

When Naomi [sweet, pleasant] had her breakdown in the desert, and even when she claimed to be Mara [bitter], she sat in her pain and owned it. In the silence, in the pain, in the trauma, she vulnerably shared who she honestly was.

In the midst of her breakdown, she is able to still live out the calling placed on her life to connect Ruth with Boaz, not only their kinsman redeemer, but also the great-great-grandfather to the Lord Jesus Christ.

Why? The willingness to be known awakens calling to be used.

And once you’ve allowed yourself to be known, you have the ability to speak jibberish, to grab someone’s hand, look at them face-to-face, eye-to-eye and say, I see you.

You are known.

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