The Freedom to Be Discovered

What if loving others means becoming curious about who they really are? Learning to show up fully, release the answer key, and give others the freedom to be discovered rather than defined.

Journey Inward

Sometimes things happen in our lives that cause us to stop and look inward.

Not because we want to analyze everything that has ever happened to us or suddenly question every relationship in our lives.

But because we don’t want to simply react to our lives.

We want to respond.

And sometimes responding requires giving ourselves enough space to ask what is actually happening inside us.

I have been in one of those seasons.

I have found myself looking at the ways I have learned to maintain connection with people. The ways I have sometimes edited myself to fit a relationship—and the ways I have edited other people in order to preserve one.

Learning to See Clearly

Sometimes we edit ourselves.

We learn which parts of us are welcomed and which parts are better left on the shelf. We bring our wisdom here, our laughter there, our questions somewhere else. We become remarkably good at reading the room and offering the version of ourselves that fits.

Sometimes we edit other people.

We focus on what is beautiful in them and quietly overlook what hurts. We put on rose-colored glasses because seeing the whole person might require us to acknowledge something uncomfortable.

And then sometimes the glasses come off.

Suddenly we see everything we weren’t allowing ourselves to see before.

The temptation then is to swing the other direction—to let what is difficult about someone become the whole truth about them.

But neither is really seeing.

I don’t want rose-colored glasses.

I don’t want gray ones either.

Pieces or the Whole?

I want to learn to see clearly.

To hold someone’s beauty and limitations at the same time. Their gifts and their blind spots. What delights me about them and what makes relationship difficult.

And I want to offer myself that same generosity.

Because I am realizing that we can be deeply connected to people and still spend years showing them only the pieces of ourselves we believe the relationship can hold.

I don’t want to do that anymore.

I don’t need every person in my life to meet every need. Some people will naturally be the ones I have long conversations with. Others will be the ones I laugh with until my stomach hurts. Some will share my love of beauty and wonder. Others will challenge my thinking or bring wisdom into my life.

There is nothing wrong with that.

But I don’t want to divide myself accordingly.

I want relationships spacious enough for people to show up as whole people.

Including me.

Becoming Curious

I am beginning to think one way we create that kind of space is through curiosity.

Recently, I shared something meaningful with someone. Instead of simply responding that it was beautiful, she asked me:

“What does it mean to you?”

It stopped me.

She didn’t tell me what she thought it meant.

She didn’t interpret why I had shared it.

She didn’t offer advice.

She simply wanted to know what was happening inside me.

I realized how hungry I had been for that kind of curiosity.

And almost immediately, the question turned back toward me.

Do I offer that same gift to the people I love?

Do to Others…

Jesus said,

“Do to others as you would have them do to you.”
—Luke 6:31

I have heard that verse my entire life.

I think I have often understood it something like this:

Give people what you would want them to give you.

It even sounds right.

We do this with love languages. If gifts make me feel loved, I naturally give gifts. If words make me feel loved, I offer words. We instinctively give people what communicates love to us.

But what if the invitation goes deeper than that?

Because giving you what I need isn’t necessarily seeing you.

It can actually become another form of projection.

Perhaps my own longing teaches me something more important.

What is it Like to Be You?

Because I know what it feels like to have an inner world that longs to be seen, I can recognize that you have one too.

Because I want someone to be curious about me, I can become curious about you.

Not so that I can give you what I would want.

But so I can discover what it is like to be you.

What matters to you?

What did that mean to you?

What makes you come alive?

What makes you pull away?

What are you seeing that I might be missing?

And then comes the difficult part:

Can I let the answer belong to you?

Can I resist correcting it, interpreting it, defending myself against it, or reshaping it into something that makes more sense to me?

Because I am discovering something about curiosity.

A real question is one whose answer I don’t control.

Releasing the Answer Key

That sounds obvious until I actually try to do it.

There have been times when I thought I was asking questions, but somewhere inside I already knew where I wanted the conversation to land.

I wasn’t really discovering the person in front of me.

I was helping them toward the conclusion that made sense to me.

And perhaps, if I am honest, agreement has sometimes felt like safety.

If you arrive where I arrive, I know where we stand.

If you see what I see, I know what to do with our relationship.

But curiosity asks me to release the answer key.

If I ask what you think, you might think something different.

If I ask what you want, you might want something I wouldn’t choose.

If I ask what something means to you, your interpretation may be completely different from mine.

If I ask what it is like to be in relationship with me, I might hear something uncomfortable.

That is vulnerable.

Relational Safety

Perhaps safety isn’t knowing where another person is going to land.

Perhaps it is knowing that I can remain present and fully myself even when they land somewhere different.

That changes the way I understand relational safety.

We aren’t safe because we always agree.

We are safe when there is enough room to discover where we actually disagree.

Curiosity gives another person the freedom to reveal themselves.

Discernment allows me to decide what I do with what has been revealed.

I need both.

Without curiosity, I can begin controlling.

Without discernment, I can begin abandoning myself.

Love requires neither.

It simply allows truth to come before management.

Train Up a Child in the Way He Should Go

I have been thinking about this with our children too.

Proverbs tells us to “train up a child in the way he should go” (Proverbs 22:6).

It can be easy to hear that as, Here is the way. Shape the child to fit it.

But I am increasingly drawn to a more relational posture:

Who did God create this particular child to be?

What has He placed inside them?

What brings them alive?

How are they different from me?

What if raising a child isn’t merely shaping them, but also discovering them?

That requires curiosity.

Safe Enough to Be Alive

And perhaps that is what I am learning about all relationships.

Love doesn’t merely ask, How would I want to be treated?

Love asks:

Who are you?

And then gives the person the freedom to answer.

There is something profoundly relational about that.

And I think it is changing what I mean when I say I want healthy relationships.

I don’t simply want relationships that are safe.

I want to be safe enough to be alive.

Safe enough to tell the truth.

Safe enough to disagree.

Safe enough to be ridiculous.

Safe enough to bring my enormous thoughts and my silly ones.

Safe enough to laugh.

Safe enough to wonder.

Safe enough to play.

And safe enough to let the person across from me be enormous too.

There is Room for Both of Us

I have always been drawn to people who are alive—creative people, visionaries, storytellers, leaders, people willing to risk something for what they believe.

I don’t want less of that.

I don’t want safe relationships to become small relationships.

But I am learning that aliveness without mutuality can become expensive.

The question isn’t whether someone is interesting, gifted, wise, funny, creative, or strong.

The question I am learning to ask is:

Is there room beside your bigness for mine?

And just as importantly:

Is there room beside my bigness for yours?

Maybe this is part of what it means to show up in my own life.

I don’t have to make someone all good so I can keep them.

I don’t have to make someone all bad so I can leave them.

I don’t have to make myself smaller so there will be enough room for both of us.

And I don’t have to define someone in order to feel safe with them.

I can tell the truth.

I can stay curious.

I can allow people to surprise me.

I can allow them to be different from what I expected.

I can allow relationships to become what they actually are rather than what I need them to be.

And I can give the people I love something I have discovered I deeply desire myself:

The freedom to be discovered rather than defined.

Maybe becoming healthier isn’t primarily about figuring out which people are healthy and which ones aren’t.

Maybe it begins much closer to home.

Showing up as myself.

Looking at the person in front of me without already deciding who they need to be.

Asking a question without holding the answer key behind my back.

And becoming quiet enough to hear the answer.

Who are you?

I would like to know.

In everything you do -eat, play, and love- may it always be seasoned with Joy!