To be known

One thing I absolutely love to do is feed off of the knowledge of other Christians. I especially love it when they’ve been doing this Christian thing a lot longer then me, or are more knowledgeable of the Bible then I am, or have amazing stories. I can’t get enough of knowing about God, and real people and their experiences of Him reveal so much.

One woman whose wisdom and passion I adore is Dannah Gresh. Yesterday I watched a few parts of one of her sermons, which was based on her new book “What Are You Waiting For?” In this book, she shows how the word for sex (or, rather, “lay with”) is actually different in different parts of the Bible. For instance, when Lot’s daughters “lay with” their father, the word used was referring to the exchange of bodily fluids. When Adam “lay with” Eve, however, the word used was yada which means, essentially, to know deeply.

I remember this from Primary school, sniggering at “sex” in the dictionary, laughing when someone said “Do it,” and discovering that in the Bible that one of my friends had, it said that Adam “knew” Eve and she had a baby. Oh, how we laughed, because wasn’t it funny that the Bible thought that you could make a baby just by knowing someone? (At this stage, I have to qualify, I was a brand new 9 year old Christian from a non-Christian family, and my only Bible was a New Testament).

It makes me smile to think that the translation of the Bible we were reading knew better then we ever could have imagined. I am fascinated, and inspired to do my own tracing of the word.

I love that this is not a physical thing. There is a physical act of sex, an exchanging of bodily fluids, but we can choose to have so much more then that. We can choose to be known. And, oh, how much more amazing that is.

I’d never thought about it before, but I am known by my husband. Not just in terms of sex, but with everything, he knows me. It reminds me of an amazing contemporary take of the Woman at the Well that I saw (and will post later), where she says “To be known is to be loved, and to be loved is to be known, otherwise what’s the point in doing either one of those in the first place?” We long to be known, don’t we? We long to have someone to look into the deepest part of us, to take the time to really see us. When we watch romantic movies, we sigh and say “Oh, he loves her!” and it is always because he has done something that will speak to the deepest part of her, and to know it would work, he must love her – he must know her.

My husband knows me. He knows I don’t like cooking and I love fast food. So when he went grocery shopping the other night while I stayed home to tidy up and then prepare dinner, he called and said “Don’t worry about starting dinner, I’ll get us something on the way home.” When he asked what I wanted, I said I didn’t mind, but then after we hung up I honestly worried that he was going to get me something I don’t like. Specifically, I worried that he was going to get me pork from the roast shop (I love meals from the roast shop, but only beef, and he likes pork and lamb). I even called him back to check what he was getting and he said “Dont worry, it’s a suprise.” When he got home and I realised what he’d bought me, I couldn’t stop smiling. I’d been so silly to worry. He got me an American hot dog – with no onions, I might add – and enough hot chips that I wouldn’t have to worry about him eating them all. He knows me.

There was also the time we went out to the movies with friends, and when he realised that the movie they were wanting to watch had a lot of violence (I don’t handle violence at all), he said to me “You won’t like this movie. We’ll go and watch another movie while they watch that one,” without me even saying anything. Or the countless times I’ve almost lost the plot while he’s just quietly made some food and handed it to me, knowing that all I really need is something to eat. He’s not one for big, romantic gestures, but discovering the word yada has made me appreciate this little everyday stuff even more then I would ever appreciate a big, romantic gesture. Because it means that he knows me, he has made my life a part of his and his a part of mine. He has taken the time to really look at me. And it translates into all parts of our marriage.

I know too many young girls who have accepted a counterfiet of this love. I think, as girls especially, we have this idea in our head that just because we’re having sex, that means we’re having love. I don’t know too much about sex that isn’t yada, but it begs to be asked, is that boy you’ve just given your body to going to bring home the exact right meal every time? Could you trust him to know what to do when you just aren’t coping? Is his love present in the little things, or just the once in a while big gestures? Does he respect you enough to have promised, legally and publically, to spend the rest of his life with you? Because if not, you’ve swapped being truly known for simply exchanging bodily fluids.

Keep waiting. It is worth it.

I am blessed beyond my wildest dreams to have what I do with my husband.

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