That probably sounds obvious because I doubt anyone enjoys it, but I have noticed there is something about false assumptions or mistaken motives that gets under my skin much more than ordinary criticism.
It's kind of weird- but when I was a kid, TV shows or movies that dealt with an innocent person being 'framed' bothered me more than it should- something in me gets really upset when others conspire to take a good man down. Was this an early indication of how the story of Jesus would resonate with me at such a deep level?
If I make a mistake, I can usually own it. I have no problem apologizing when I have said something I should not have said or handled a situation poorly. Those moments are painful, but at least I know why they happened.
Being misunderstood is different.
There have been nights when I have replayed conversations in my mind, wishing I had explained myself better or wondering whether someone had completely misread my intentions. My natural instinct is to fix it. I want to clarify. I want people to understand what I meant. I want my reputation restored.
The older I get, however, the more I realize that this desire can quietly become another form of self-protection.
As I continued reading The Call, I was struck by Guinness' reminder that calling inevitably involves the cost of discipleship. If we identify ourselves with Christ, we should not be surprised when we occasionally share in His misunderstandings as well.
That is not an easy lesson.
And the reality is, until you learn to suffer that in patience and understanding- you are not trusting God as much as you think you are.
Os Guinness says it like this:
Calling entails the cost of discipleship. The deepest challenge is to renounce self and identify with Jesus in His sufferings and rejection.
Here is how Paul said it:
We are fools for Christ’s sake, but you are wise in Christ. We are weak, but you are strong. You are held in honor, but we in disrepute. [11] To the present hour we hunger and thirst, we are poorly dressed and buffeted and homeless, [12] and we labor, working with our own hands. When reviled, we bless; when persecuted, we endure; [13] when slandered, we entreat. We have become, and are still, like the scum of the world, the refuse of all things.
(1 Corinthians 4:10-13 ESV)
When I think about Joseph, one of the things that still bothers me is not simply that he was falsely accused. It is that, as far as we know, he never had an opportunity to clear his name. Potiphar's wife lied. Joseph went to prison. Scripture never records a public apology or a courtroom reversal.
There are too many examples of God’s people being misunderstood in the Bible to even list them. Even Jesus was accused of things that were completely false.
Looking back, I think I spent too much of my younger years assuming that if I simply lived faithfully, people would eventually understand. Life has not worked that way. Some do and some never will.
The difficult part is learning to trust God with a reputation that we cannot always control.
Guinness writes that calling requires us to identify with Christ not only in His service but also in His rejection.
That is sobering and the reality is everyone wants you to know ‘my side of the story’.
I have learned to think of this as my 'fugitive fear'. Someone running as a fugitive (innocent and guilty) has no rest and the fear only intensifies.
My fear of being misunderstood becomes a 'fugitive fear' because I don't stay with it long enough to understand it. I immediately try to escape it by explaining or defending myself. The running makes the fear grow, while stopping allows me to sort out what's true, what's mine to own, and what I have to let go.
My fear of being misunderstood isn't just about people getting me wrong—it's the fear that they'll make judgments about my character or motives that I can't control or correct. It makes me feel like I have to constantly explain, defend, or prove myself so others will see the "real" me. Instead of feeling free to simply be honest, I end up trying to manage other people's perceptions, and that's exhausting.
We all live in a world where misunderstanding is inevitable. Jesus Himself experienced it. In Matthew 11:19 and Luke 7:34, people accused Him of being "a glutton and a drunkard" simply because He shared meals with sinners.
“But to what shall I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling to their playmates, [17] “‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we sang a dirge, and you did not mourn.’ [18] For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon.’ [19] The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look at him! A glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Yet wisdom is justified by her deeds.” (Matthew 11:16–19 ESV)
The problem wasn't that either man had failed to explain himself—it was that some people had already decided how they would interpret them. These passages remind us that even a perfectly truthful and loving life does not guarantee being understood. Part of living faithfully is accepting that we cannot control everyone else's perceptions. Our calling is not to eliminate misunderstanding but to remain rooted in truth, trusting that God knows us fully even when others do not.
Yet over the years I have also learned that not every misunderstanding needs my defense. Sometimes the wisest thing I can do is continue living faithfully and trust God with the outcome.
One of the strange freedoms that comes with growing older is slowly realizing that I do not have to win every argument, answer every accusation, or convince every critic.
You get OLD enough to feel the freedom to 'just be you'- that is a strange gift of growing older. The older you get, the less you care about it! I call it "the freedom to be me". I have lived long enough to finally meet the man inside of me, instead of running or hiding!
God knows all about this. That does not remove the sting, but it does reduce the panic.
As I think about this June Tune-Up, I wonder whether some of our exhaustion comes from carrying responsibilities that were never ours in the first place.
Faithfulness is our responsibility. Reputation ultimately belongs to God. There is a difference.
And perhaps part of growing in our calling is learning to live with that difference.
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