Know God and Be Known

Have you ever gained a job, a friend, or even a spouse initially based on someone else’s recommendation? It matters when someone says, “I know this person.” A personal reference means so much more than words printed on a resume.

Mark 8:27–29 says,

Jesus and his disciples left Galilee and went up to the villages near Caesarea Philippi. As they were walking along, he asked them, “Who do people say I am?” “Well,” they replied, “some say John the Baptist, some say Elijah, and others say you are one of the other prophets.” Then he asked them, “But who do you say I am?” Peter replied, “You are the Messiah.” (NLT)

The general public in this passage wasn’t sure who Jesus was. But the ones who walked with him every day, his disciples, did. He was the Messiah.

I know a couple of guys named George. The first one you know as well: George Washington. My mom was a legendary elementary school teacher and served on national curriculum councils in U.S. History, so I was exposed to a lot of information about our first president. Married to Martha Custis, he lived on a farm called Mount Vernon. He also made a dangerous journey to cross the Delaware River during the winter. That last act is memorialized in one of the most famous American History paintings, “Washington Crossing the Delaware.” You can see the painting here.

The second George was my team leader when I taught middle school science. I walked into that school as a wet-behind-the-ears, twenty-two-year-old college graduate. George took this in-over-her-head girl and turned her into a teacher. He gave me advice, guidance, support, and a kick in the rear end when I needed it. You see, he had lost a son who would have been the same age I was. In a way, I was standing in for his boy, learning and growing under his tutelage.

George was my second father in every way. If my dad had passed away before I married, George would have walked me down the aisle. I left teaching and he has retired, but we keep in touch. When we see each other, we hug long and hard and laugh and share about our families. He always writes me a sweet note in their family Christmas card.

While I know a lot about George Washington, I don’t really know him. I wasn’t in that boat crossing the icy waters of the Delaware River. I know facts about the man, but I don’t know the man.

The second George? I know him, and more importantly, I am known by him. If he were to walk through my front door today, I would throw myself in his arms and we’d hug each other tight. We would share stories of our time together and our lives now. I can’t do that with George Washington, no matter how many facts I can recite about his life.

When we stand before Jesus at the end of our lives, will we be known?

Luke 13:22–30 says,

Then Jesus went through the towns and villages, teaching as he made his way to Jerusalem. Someone asked him, “Lord, are only a few people going to be saved?” He said to them, “Make every effort to enter through the narrow door, because many, I tell you, will try to enter and will not be able to. Once the owner of the house gets up and closes the door, you will stand outside knocking and pleading, ‘Sir, open the door for us.’ But he will answer, ‘I don’t know you or where you come from.’ Then you will say, ‘We ate and drank with you, and you taught in our streets.’ But he will reply, ‘I don’t know you or where you come from. Away from me, all you evildoers!’ There will be weeping there, and gnashing of teeth, when you see Abraham, Isaac and Jacob and all the prophets in the kingdom of God, but you yourselves thrown out. People will come from east and west and north and south, and will take their places at the feast in the kingdom of God. Indeed there are those who are last who will be first, and first who will be last.” (NIV)

Are you known? Do you know Jesus? Not just facts about him, but really know him? Do you have a shared history? Can you share memories of your time together?

When I was in the pit of despair, Jesus, you were there with me.

When I lost my loved one, God, you were there.

When our child was born, we praised you together, God.

When we thought it was the worst thing that could have happened, God, you used it for good. We saw your hand over the years.

When we know him on that intimate level, we are known. And loved. And welcomed into the kingdom as his child.

Know God—and be known.

Annie Carlson is rooted like a turnip to the plains of North Dakota where she raises great food, large numbers of farm animals, and three free-range kids with her husband. You can find her with either a book or knitting needles in her hands as she dreams up her next adventure.