As the seasons of Advent and Christmas approach, an innocuous question we like to ask children is, “What do you want?” They’ll respond enthusiastically as they talk about a new scooter, nail polish kit, or drum set that they dream of finding under the tree on Christmas morning. Their zeal is unhindered and singularly-focused; their happiness seems contingent upon receiving certain toys, as if getting what they want will fulfill all desires. Yet the toys so desperately desired will soon fall to the wayside, abandoned and obsolete.
Children are not the only ones who fall into thinking that material objects, titles, accolades, or experiences will make them happy. Ask me today what I want and I could rattle off a list of the running shoes, wireless headphones, and decorative frames that I’ve been eyeing. I may mention my dream job or my vision of family life ten years down the road that I feel will make me perfectly content. What I mistake as vital to my happiness—getting that college acceptance, landing the coveted internship, dating that man, buying the dream home, taking that trip—will prove to inadequately satiate my longings. Inevitably, I will find another object to which I direct my attention because these wants—even those that are good and wholesome—only skim the surface of what I deeply desire.
What is the one thing that I want? To be known—fully, deeply, and truly.
Feeling Known
Now, don’t get me wrong, I feel cherished and known by my family who loves generously and by my friends who are as thoughtful as they are loyal.
When my mom says exactly what I need to hear after a tough day or when a friend drops off my favorite smoothie just because or when the same calendar anniversary makes both of us send a text to check-in, I feel known.
When my sister listens without judgment or when my night ends in belly laughs and ice cream with friends or when I catch the sunrise on a morning run and am overcome by peace, I feel a real sense of belonging in this world and in my community.
However, these feelings of being known can be ephemeral. When the relationship fizzles, self-doubt overwhelms, and loneliness creeps in, I struggle to recall the feeling of being known that I once enjoyed.
That is when I have to face what I often try to ignore: feeling like I am known is fleeting. It comes in the form of flower bouquets and thoughtful texts and shoulder squeezes and the how-did-you-know-I-wanted-this type of gifts. I desire something more than that…something that endures the reality of the ebbs and flows of life as a human who experiences both deep joys and weighty crosses.
Knowing I’m Known
Feelings fluctuate. They come and go. But I want to know that I am known, whether I feel liveliness or dryness…to let that knowledge settle in my bones and direct my life.
There is only One who offers me that gift. When the feeling of being known evades me, I turn to my favorite psalm, Psalm 139, to be my voice of reason and faith, reminding me what I believe to be true: that I am definitely loved and known by our all-loving and omniscient Creator.
O Lord, you have searched me and known me. You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from far away. You search out my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue,O Lord, you know it completely. You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me. For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.Wonderful are your works; that I know very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes beheld my unformed substance. In your book were written all the days that were formed for me, when none of them as yet existed. How weighty to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! I try to count them—they are more than the sand; I come to the end—I am still with you.
Psalm 139: 1-5; 13-18
Living in Belief
No matter how poorly I sing or how uncharitably I act or how doubtful I am of His presence, there is nothing I can do to be less known by God. Transient emotions cannot shake this anchoring belief. I cannot escape Him or His Love.
When I cannot rely on my own feelings to endorse what I believe to be true, I look to the people in my life who remind me—through words of encouragement when I waver, a steady presence in uncomfortable circumstances, and a witness to the faith in dark moments—that I am not alone in desiring this one thing. While imperfect, these people mirror God’s unconditional, omniscient Love. Their witness of believing even when they do not see or feel gives me strength to let my faith shine, too.
Maybe the one thing that I so desire – to be known – has already been given to me and I just need to recognize, accept, and live into it. Rather than wearing out my heart by pursuing temporary, superficial attempts at satisfying this desire, what if I turned to God in faith, praying, “Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief”? If more of my mental, emotional, and spiritual energy went towards coming to know the One who has told me that I am known more intimately than I can even know myself, perhaps I could truly accept that belief and come to know myself more fully and live joyfully as a daughter of our all-knowing God. And, if Thomas Merton’s words—“for me to be a saint means to be myself”—are true, then discovering who I truly am, as known by God alone, is the path of my sanctity.
About Grace:
Grace Carroll studies theology in graduate school, while working in college ministry. She finds joy in long runs, the company of friends, FaceTime calls with her nephew, dark chocolate, and the quiet of a chapel amidst a busy day. Read more posts from her here.
