Misunderstood and Okay.

Being misunderstood is a frustrating predicament. Having to explain ourselves or correct some measure of confusion is exhausting. When it’s not frustrating and exhausting it can be anxiety-inducing and fear-producing, forever affecting the way we interact with people.

I can hear Beyonce’s MY POWER in the back of my mind.

“They feel a way, oh wow.”

I’m getting to that place of eye-rolling at others’ “hot takes.” After all, everyone has an opinion, a “hot take.” What we say (or do) can be twisted to fit almost any narrative if the one spreading it convinces everyone to squint their eyes hard enough. Misunderstanding is easy.

For the longest time, the frustration formed not because of who/what/how I was confused with but because who I was left room for confusion in the first place! In the last two years, paired with a new faith outlook (thank God for mercy), my fear of being misunderstood is fading into the rearview. To be understood is to be known, and to be known takes effort. In general, we don’t want to make an effort. It’s easier to misunderstand people, dismiss them, and move on. Admitting you misunderstood someone is admitting you were wrong. No one likes to be wrong.

Here’s the deal, I don’t have the energy to explain who I am to everyone I meet. And that’s okay. I am a husband of one wife, a father of two daughters, a lover, a pacifist, a patron of the arts, a creator, a community builder, and a child held by God. A child making his way through bloodied and loved.

Loved.

This is what matters: I am loved.

And the best news?

So are you.

We are loved not for what we do or don’t do. Whether misunderstood by our peers or not. The love of God goes deeper and wider than we could ever know. The gray color of my politics, my critiques of the American church, and my opinions on modern art and film don’t fit perfectly into a box; folks misunderstand that. It’s fine by me. My interests, the pitch of my voice, my wrists, or my favorite color may confuse some people too. All is good here.

Those people who take the time to understand me are those who take the time to love me. Why would I worry about anyone else?

-L