Back in college I thought I had people pegged, in particular I was pretty sure I knew who the serious Christians were and who was just playing along. It seemed so obvious that certain guys I knew or at least knew of were too cool to really care about Jesus, their popularity being a much more important occupation.
In the past two months I found many of these guys on Facebook and it turns out several are now missionaries or at least in full-time ministry. It just goes to show that I don’t know . . . anything.
Now my fine-tooted comb of judgment is pointed straight back at myself. Besides the fact that I’m coping with my transgressions of judgment and criticism, there’s something far larger lurking beneath the surface: insecurity.
Back in high school and college I was painfully insecure. I assumed that most people didn’t really like me all that much, aside from my friends, which I thankfully had a lot of. But once I moved beyond my friends, I had a hard time holding on to a shred of self-confidence, interpreting the silence of others as disapproval.
This insecurity was fought off by self-righteousness, such as, “He may think I’m a nobody, but at least I take God seriously.” This doesn’t soften the blow all that much, but it helps to know why my thinking was so awful.
I can safely say that I am less painfully insecure today because I have also befriended some of the people who I thought didn’t like me. In addition, my wife has saved me from myself because her acceptance and deep friendship provides real security to be who I am, quirks and all.
And now that I’ve aired out that bit of dirty laundry, I’d like to write about the people who don’t blog as well as I do . . .