On my run on Sunday I thought about that pesky word misunderstanding. It’s a painful word. One that none of us wants to experience. We don’t like it when we misunderstand someone. We dislike being misunderstood. I remember my friend Sandi telling me once that Jesus was deeply misunderstood. Often so.
That one thought has helped me whenever I’ve felt misunderstood. And as I ran on Sunday the thought came to me that whether or not I’m misunderstood is not as big of a deal as I once thought. Yes, it hurts. Yes, it’s unfair. But Jesus knows what it feels like. He can come to my aid in a very specific, empathetic way. Beyond that, though, I realized that even when I’m misunderstood by someone, I have all sorts of things I’m not proud of in my heart. Even if I’ve been misunderstood, I’m sure I’d shock folks with my own cache of sins.
So even if I’m misunderstood, there’s all sort of understanding that I’m a sinner anyway. That even if I didn’t do the thing I’m being misunderstood about, I’ve probably done other things.
Which then flings me back into the arms of the One who fully, deeply, totally understands me. He knows my ways. He knows my thoughts. He can’t possibly misunderstand me. And even the parts I’m sad about, He knows. And still chose to take all that on Himself on the cross. He suffered misunderstanding so I could be understood AND forgiven by Him.
It makes me want to praise Him all over again.