Knowing and Being Known
Over the long weekend, I stumbled upon a site called PostSecret. Frank Warren is the man behind it.
To summarize the site’s content, people send in their secrets anonymously on artsy postcards, which Warren scans and displays. The site is so popular that several books have been made using replicas of the cards. I was so taken with the few posted only from this past week that I picked up the latest PostSecret book this evening and proceeded to zoom through it.
I have never felt such a mix of emotions in my life. I’ve felt stronger emotions, but not the mix of amazement, sadness, encouragement, and so on. Nothing has ever convinced me more that people have so much to say and are so afraid to say it. And there are plenty of good reasons, to be sure. It is simply discouraging to me that we are so broken as people that for most our best outlet is anonymous postcard submissions. At least it is something. Plenty of the people (based on the texts) are genuinely giddy to get the weight off their chest.
The whole concept has me contemplating God a little. God knows us already, better than we know ourselves. Nothing escapes Him or is hidden from Him. Anonymously submitting our darkest secrets to the world is the manifestation of crying out to be known and yet be accepted and loved no matter how terrible we are or have been. God knows, accepts, and still loves, but we often forget.
For a couple days I just want to reflect on the fact that God knows me and what I have done and that He loves me anyway. In fact, He freely offers the opportunity for me to know Him more and I usually just let it pass. How hurtful that must be. I hope that someday another human knows all my secrets and offers the same.
Tags: God, Postsecret
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December 30, 2007 at 8:42 am
That postsecret picture hit me hard. The very same thing rings true for me, re: my mom.
she has 5 boys who are all high school or college dropouts, and all of whom have done nothing with their lives. My sister and I have dagrees and careers, and yet… we are her greateset disappointment.