Iris
What I think is that we want to be known. That what we long for, more than even forgiveness and acceptance, is for the people who are important to us to know us. It's why we dress the way we do, why we decorate the way we do, why we write, why we choose the jewelry we wear, and why it's so hard for us to shut up talking about ourselves. Ruthie and I have been talking about this a lot lately, especially as it relates to our relatives—wondering if the people who ought to know us best, our families, know us at all. Obviously there’s no general answer for some mythical monolith called, “our family,” but life is teaching us that if there were, it would be “no.” Ruthie knows me better than anyone ever has but I still become frustrated with the necessity for, and limitations of, language when trying to explain to her why West Side Story makes me tear up, or how listening to Purple Rain makes me feel. Yeah, she gets it closer than anyone else could—but she’ll never know exactly what it’s like to be me, she’ll never completely know me. Why then can it be so discouraging that people whom we see with far less frequency than we do one another know us on such a superficial and wildly inaccurate level?
Someday (and that day may never come) we’re going to find ourselves ready to brave Ken’s “tunnel of chaos” and let the truth be known—let ourselves be known. Thing about that tunnel though, is that there are no guarantees on what’s waiting at the other end. Acceptance, rejection, forgiveness where necessary, respect, anger, disappointment, pride, closeness, of the relationship—you just never know. And it’s my growing willingness to risk whatever shallow peace my relational status quos find me in that has led me to believe that it’s the knowing that we want even more than the acceptance. This is why I drink beer in public, and why it makes me feel so good to hear someone say “ass” in my living room on a Tuesday night. Because relationships (which I claim to be such a high value) which are based on a version of me that I’ve cultivated and presented intentionally to make people okay with me are relationships with a person who doesn’t exist—they’re not real, and that’s not good.
This is why it bothers me that people who haven’t taken the time to get to know me presume to know what movies I’ll like. This is why it bothers me when someone makes fun of John Lennon for wishing the world would quit shooting each other and then assumes that I’ll be right there on board with his mocking. This is also why my friendships with people who have seen me at my absolute worst and love me anyway are so satisfying and so rare. This is why I need Justin and Jared so desperately.
There’s a rep at work that my friend K doesn’t like. She says she’s okay with him until he starts with the comments and the leers and the inappropriate touches. I told her that the whole thing is a sad example of how you can be a good guy in most respects (I’ve known P for years and have some affection for him) and still let one out of control character flaw ruin you. K said that she couldn’t accept that he could be an ok guy and when I told her that I could easily have been him she didn’t want to hear it.
“You didn’t know me ten years ago,” I said.
“But he’s awful.”
“Only because he’s fed his and I’ve tried to kill mine.”
And she said, “Stop—I don’t want to think about you like that.”
She likes me too much to want to know the real me. So she never will. And we’ll continue on in a pseudo-friendship because, as unwilling as she is to hear it, I’m just that unwilling to reveal it. And my lack of honesty will keep us both from experiencing what might have been a life-changing relationship both ways. This is a big part of why God wants us to be honest people. Not because it’s some arbitrary rule, but because in honesty we find what our lives need—to be known.
Someday (and that day may never come) we’re going to find ourselves ready to brave Ken’s “tunnel of chaos” and let the truth be known—let ourselves be known. Thing about that tunnel though, is that there are no guarantees on what’s waiting at the other end. Acceptance, rejection, forgiveness where necessary, respect, anger, disappointment, pride, closeness, of the relationship—you just never know. And it’s my growing willingness to risk whatever shallow peace my relational status quos find me in that has led me to believe that it’s the knowing that we want even more than the acceptance. This is why I drink beer in public, and why it makes me feel so good to hear someone say “ass” in my living room on a Tuesday night. Because relationships (which I claim to be such a high value) which are based on a version of me that I’ve cultivated and presented intentionally to make people okay with me are relationships with a person who doesn’t exist—they’re not real, and that’s not good.
This is why it bothers me that people who haven’t taken the time to get to know me presume to know what movies I’ll like. This is why it bothers me when someone makes fun of John Lennon for wishing the world would quit shooting each other and then assumes that I’ll be right there on board with his mocking. This is also why my friendships with people who have seen me at my absolute worst and love me anyway are so satisfying and so rare. This is why I need Justin and Jared so desperately.
There’s a rep at work that my friend K doesn’t like. She says she’s okay with him until he starts with the comments and the leers and the inappropriate touches. I told her that the whole thing is a sad example of how you can be a good guy in most respects (I’ve known P for years and have some affection for him) and still let one out of control character flaw ruin you. K said that she couldn’t accept that he could be an ok guy and when I told her that I could easily have been him she didn’t want to hear it.
“You didn’t know me ten years ago,” I said.
“But he’s awful.”
“Only because he’s fed his and I’ve tried to kill mine.”
And she said, “Stop—I don’t want to think about you like that.”
She likes me too much to want to know the real me. So she never will. And we’ll continue on in a pseudo-friendship because, as unwilling as she is to hear it, I’m just that unwilling to reveal it. And my lack of honesty will keep us both from experiencing what might have been a life-changing relationship both ways. This is a big part of why God wants us to be honest people. Not because it’s some arbitrary rule, but because in honesty we find what our lives need—to be known.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home