Known.

To be known is an interesting thing.
It’s to be heard.
To be seen.
To be understood.
There are no facades, no distractions.
It’s an intense acknowledgement.
It’s fully there.
To be known is a powerful thing.
It’s something that I’ve always wanted.
It’s also something that I’ve always feared.
The lack of it has led me down two roads of thought.

The first road is one that tells me that if I am known, no one would stay.
It’s the reason that I have a blog, that I’ve only told a handful of people about. It’s the reason why being around people, even friends, gives me anxiety at times.
If someone saw the brokenness that I am, the fear I harbor, the doubts that I ruminate in, then they would steer clear of me. I would be rejected.

The second road is one that entertains my desire to be known. It shows me the beauty of it.
The honesty.
The purity of it.
The fullness.
The joy.
Someone KNOWS me. They just don’t know OF me. But they actually KNOW me.

It’s a shame that the first road often overshadows the second for me. But, I’ve realized that the first road doesn’t have to be the one I take. That there has been someone all along who has been pleading me to take the second. Someone who knows me.
Fully and entirely.
Someone who isn’t afraid of my fears, but who wants me to bring them to Him.
Someone who isn’t afraid of my doubts, but who wants me to trade them for truth.
Someone who isn’t afraid of my brokenness, but who sees the cracks and creates a masterpiece.

Masterpieces take time. I like to paint and make crafts. I have made many gifts for people I care about and it takes time. When I’m making something, I think about the person. I think about them often–why I’m making it, how much they’ll like it, how they’ll use it or display it. I just think about them.

Same with God. We are fearfully and wonderfully made. I’ve made a lot of cool pieces that aren’t anywhere close to being fearfully and wonderfully made. God took the time to carefully make me. He knows the exact shade of dark brown that my eyes are. He knows the exact depth of my dimple (yes, only one). He knows me because he created me. He spent the time to do so and it was intentional. He wasn’t distracted nor was he bored. He was fully committed. And he still is.
He knew what my talents were and how I would use them, my strengths, my areas of improvement, my annoyances, my joys.
He knows me. My doubts. My fears. My anxieties. My anger. My brokenness. My sins. Yet he still chose to make me. To fully commit and invest in His daughter. To know me. To stick by me.

Being known means that I don’t have to hide. I don’t have to be afraid or doubtful that Jesus won’t get what I’m trying to say.

I can be wierd or silly or random or angry or completely chill and he accepts me as I am because he knows me and loves me.
Of course he wants to take me higher and deeper in my relationship with him, but even now, he still chooses me. As I am.
Today. Everyday. All I am. All I will be. He knows. And he loves. And with that, I can be sure that I don’t have to fear.

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