My Misunderstanding

I called a fella that had recently fell a hardwood tree.  He shared where he lived and we agreed on a time when he would be home so I could make a visit to inspect the wood.  The conversation concluded with telling me that he had a German shepherd dog but his bark was worse than his bite.  I gave it no thought until I walked on the porch and knocked on the screen door.  Immediately there he was! All 100 pounds; not using his ‘inside bark’ rather exerting the full capacity of his lungs.  The intense gazes presented me with the opportunity of putting my hand and foot on the screen door frame or the challenge of running and jumping off the porch at age 72.  “His bark is worse than his bite?”  For the person on this side of the screen door, venturing with another attempt to knock was frightening. For all I knew, a barking-mad, wild beast was coming thru that screen at the slightest movement of the moment. He looked and sounded absolutely ferocious.

What my eyes and ears were sensing, it was hard to believe that the owner took ample opportunity to showcase his gentle, calm, and loving demeanor dog until he stood beside his dog and commanded, “sit, still.” The owner opened the screen door inviting me enter and calling to his wife that they had a visitor. “Roll over Freddy, and show Bill you’re a good boy;” at which Freddy obeyed .  “Sit a spell?” asked his wife, “Sweet tea?”  “You show Mr. Bill how much you like visitors,” as Freddy’s ears flattened with joy and his tail waged as he came closer. I sat f-a-s-t. “Now lay down,” at which Freddy did, ‘at my feet,’ catching my eye, with what I have to confess , was nothing but an affectionate, docile expression.

“Freddy is often misunderstood,” his owner told me.  His size, his bark, the reputation of the breed, and past memories of fearful encounters with large dogs had precluded this wonderful encounter. While I sit here this morning, writing of the experience, I am still somewhat taken back emotionally when a large canine looks my way and heads toward me. No matter how much convincing I try to do for myself, I am a bit more than reluctant in accepting that the breed is “really” friendly.

This is a trivial example of being misunderstood—which has been is a painful fact of life. Being misunderstood has never pleasant or easy, and has often felt like a personal rejection. Being misunderstood has also stirred up feelings of self-righteous anger. How could this person believe that about me? Don’t they know me better? Why wouldn’t she give me the benefit of the doubt? The desire to justify myself has risen up like a wave more than once. I am right, I am smart, my point is valid….

As I think about my own reaction to being misunderstood, I recognize how often it is rooted in pride. Like the Hollywood image-makers who craft perfect personas, I desire to be viewed in the best possible light—always. My fragile ego cannot hold up when I am not seen as ‘perfect’ by others. In this way, misunderstanding offers me the gift of being able to see the true nature of my shabbily built self-image; for any misunderstanding of my super-human status demolishes its self-righteous construction.

As a Christian, when I read the gospels I find that Jesus mastered being misunderstood. He often asked questions rather than giving answers. Or He answered those who questioned Him with parables or enigmatic exhortations that left his followers (and those on the outside) without even the smallest shred of understanding. I’m considering His remarks in the gospel of St. John, chapter 6, as an example:

He says, “I am the living bread which comes down out of heaven; if anyone eats of this bread he shall live forever; and the bread also which I shall give for the life of the world is my flesh. The Jews therefore began to argue with one another saying, ‘how can this man give us his flesh to eat?’ Truly I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood you have no life in yourselves.”

 The gospel goes on to tell the reader that as a result of Jesus saying these things many of His followers withdrew and were not walking with him any longer. But Jesus doesn’t go on the offensive and try to explain what He was saying. He leaves the very hard things He has just said to stand. Mysteriously, He allows Himself to be misunderstood. He leaves room for those who heard these strange sayings to wonder; He leaves room for wrestling, and even for many to walk away.

While there are many facets of Jesus’ form, His willingness to be misunderstood is a facet I cannot ignore. His conversations, His questions, His hard sayings all create an often uneasy space for those who want to justify themselves. He does not have the need to be understood, or to maintain a perfect persona. His was not a presence that clamored for attention nor did he strive to protect His image.

Father, God, I thank You for Your awareness of and I confess the many, many, things I do to create misunderstanding that must be corrected and made right.  I also recognize, there will always be times when what I say or do—even with the best of intentions—will be misunderstood. May You use these times, and grace in allowing me the opportunity to allow room for misunderstanding, or give way to my desire for self-protection, or worse, self-promotion. Convict me, in remaining in that uneasy space, that a spiritual kind of art can be created. The spiritual art of practicing a necessary discipline—like Jesus—to “have no stately form or majesty,” nor craft an appearance to which “anyone would be attracted.”  Amen