I Don't Want You to Know Me

I don't want you to know me. Not the real me. In fact, I work really hard so that you won't know me, and indeed so that you can't know me.

If you knew me, you'd know my faults, fears, and failures. I mess things up, I have selfish tendencies, I'm not up to snuff in some basic character issues, I get angry, I don't always eat right, and I say stupid things. It's embarrassing. "Aha!" you say - "I already know plenty of your faults." Yes, you do. You know the faults that I don't keep totally secret. You don't know my worst, ugliest, most disappointing, shameful faults. I don't let you. They are part of me, and since I have successfully hidden them from you, I have successfully prevented you from knowing me.

If you knew these things about me, you probably wouldn't like me. The faults I let you know about may be annoying, but they usually don't prevent people from liking who they think I am. But the faults I hide - wow - if you knew them, then you wouldn't like me. Or at least not nearly as much. People with my secrets aren't really likable ... not really.

Instead, I tell you just enough to fool you. I actually want you to know my lesser faults, because then I can fool you that I'm being "transparent." I'll let you know about my molehill problem so that you won't bother to ask about my mountain problem. I give you a splinter to distract you from the plank. To be honest, you're pretty easy to fool.

In other words, what I present to you is a false me. It's a projection of a person, an image of someone who doesn't exist, a catalog of qualities good enough to make a phantom likable. Who you think I am isn't even a person. You can't have a real relationship with an unreal person, so you don't have a real relationship with me, no matter how often I tell you I appreciate our "relationship."

You see, I'd rather you knew a false me than the real me. I'd prefer that you like a false me than be disappointed with the real me. I don't want to be rejected, so I don't allow the real me to be accepted. I can coast along pretty well if you like the person I project to you, and then I can pretend that you really like me. But you don't ... because you don't even know me.

I do this because I falsely get my identity and acceptance from you. I know intellectually that my identity is in Christ and my acceptance from God by grace through Christ. I know all that. And yet I still vainly try to get my sense of self from you. If I truly did get my identity from being in Christ, and if I truly did accept my own acceptance by grace from the perfectly gracious God, then I would let you know the real me ... the accepted me who knows who he is. But I don't. Instead, I put on you responsibilities that belong only to God.

I don't want you to know me because you're my idol. I don't idolize you in the worship-y way, but I look to you for something only God can give. Thereby, I foolishly make you my idol.

I'm sorry for putting you in such an awkward position. It's unfair to expect you to provide what only God can. Plus, it never works. I can't be known by idols.

Read this again to see if you find yourself in this composite (but not totally fictional) character.