“There are only two ways of telling the complete truth - anonymously and posthumously.”

Blogs are both ruined and made by those that read them.

I was astounded when Hannah showed me that we can see the location and quantity of our “Audience” and that even Kenyans, Americans, Australians and Germans have all checked us out. Disconcertingly, I know who these individuals are (or can take a pretty good guess) and it’s made the idea of writing another post difficult.

It’s difficult to be honest about what we think with people we know personally. People we know personally (usually) know us personally, and therefore know that we live hypocritical lives; that we lack integrity and the things we’re learning (on a gap year, for example) don’t impact us enough or for long enough. Aside that, it’s easy for me to tell a stranger how I’m feeling, (and I do, frequently) what I’m thinking, that I feel pretty lost and far away from God (hypothetically, of course) - it’s easy to write that down into a computer because computers don’t judge, screens don’t convict, they don’t feel as if they have to help; their opinions don’t change; they don’t worry; they don’t ask questions and I’m in control. As much as I’d love this to not be the case, people aren’t computers.

My fear of writing much else got me thinking about honesty.

I’m a liar. (But you can’t believe that.)

I lie when I love out of obligation; serve with ulterior motives; I lie when I tell people what I think they want to hear; I lie when I say I don’t struggle and I lie when I don’t reveal 3% of what I’m really thinking. I also lie when I say I’m going to quit smoking and get a proper job and sleep better and get over myself and allow myself to be vulnerable and put my flipping everything into making those things the truth till I burn out. I burn out very quickly and take on everything all at once with an overtly ‘all-or-nothing’ attitude and zero perseverance.

It’s difficult to be honest when we’re broken, when we’re thinking awful things. Spending the last few weeks praying about this, God started doing something interesting, which was to remind me of a lot of truths. Separately and exactly when I needed them, He told me again that I’m loved, that I’m forgiven, that I’m not alone, that He’s powerful, that He’s bigger than it all, that I’m not made of glass but that I don’t need to stand in front of Him pretending that I’m sorted. Funny thing was, I started believing Him.

He’s also been pointing out when I start lying to myself: that I can do things separate from Him; that I need a particular person in my life to do anything right; that I can’t get better; that I should allow logic to supersede emotions, that nothing can ever change and that anything other than cynicism is stupidity. 

These thoughts on honesty led me to thoughts on how much anyone can really know anyone else. If you're anything like me (and God help you I hope you're not when it comes to this) you'll attempt to guard your own heart above all else (is that a Proverb?) in relationships. I like to understand others, not because it strengthens relationships or because there's any emotional need but because I'm interested on an intellectual level and like to compartmentalize and simplify and gage how they think and feel in control. 
But as much as I like to think this isn't the case, I can't really know anyone. And being in community isn't about having that sort of knowledge of another, it's about having an understanding and an unconditional love. I think I'd benefit from making less assumptions; that I know how others are feeling or how they'll react to anything and stop trying to second guess and study and just be with them. 

"I sometimes think that people’s hearts are like deep wells. Nobody knows what’s at the bottom. All you can do is imagine by what comes floating to the surface every once in a while." 

John 8:32