You don't know him like I do.

“You are a way better person than you realize.”

That’s what my friend told me.  I wanted to argue with her.  I’m a pretty crummy person.  “You don’t know him like I do.”

My first thought was of the opening line of a Caedmon’s Call song, “No one would love me if they knew all the things I hide.”  See, I know that I’m not a better person.  I realize just how much of this iceberg is below the surface. 

I remembered that retweet from a couple days before.  “what a great dude he is.”  Was his reply just a moment of honesty?   Just a thoughtless, throw-away comment, trying to be sarcastic and funny?  A little bit of both? When I saw it, I immediately identified with the former.  I’m terrible about accepting compliments…even worse when I know it’s entirely undeserved.

“γνῶθι σεαυτόν” we’re taught by the oracle at Delphi.  I always felt that if you could learn to obey that advice, you probably wouldn’t need an oracle.  I try to “know myself” and so the second thing that went through my head was, “why does she think she understands me better than I do?”  Surely if there’s a lack of realization, it’s on the part of the person who doesn’t see the whole picture.  The one who doesn’t know him like I do.  The one who doesn’t know all the things I hide.  The one who only sees the tip of the iceberg.

Here's the thing: that message came in the middle of a conversation that was made necessary because I needed to apologize to her for being angry, and then lying about it.  I was full of realization of just how much I was not a "better person." 

“You are a way better person than you realize.”

I couldn’t accept that.  

I had to correct her. 

But then.

Then, thanks to whatever is at work within me, I decided that I would just accept that grace. 

I didn't do it very gracefully.  I started by copying another stolen tweet (@prodigalsam) comparing taking a compliment to a dog crossing an electric fence.  Then I said thanks.  Then the conversation moved on. 

But I didn't.

I dwelt on that benediction.  I wrestled with it.  I hoped to believe some truth in it.

Because I have a rather high opinion of my friend.  I don’t think she was just saying it to be nice.  I believe that she speaks truth…but how could that be, knowing me as I do?

Truth is, I have a rather high opinion of myself as well…the previous paragraphs notwithstanding.  I struggle a lot with pride and ego.  I’m also frequently deceitful and angry.  And that’s just a bit of the iceberg I try to hide beneath the surface.  I’m often tempted to describe myself with the words “worthless” and “hopeless”, except that I don’t believe either of those words could be applied to any person living in a world redeemed by the grace of Christ.  I choose to believe that everyone has worth and everyone has hope.  Even me.  I choose to believe there’s truth in what my friend said.  And I believe there’s still something (Someone) at work within me.