Obscurity in a world demanding you to be noticed
Obedience vs. Impact
Most of us are raised from childhood to believe that we can make a difference in this world. We will live a life of impact. But what if the idea you have, the dream you are pursuing, the business you are starting, the group you are leading is more about obedience than impact? What if it’s about formation rather than the end result? For me, writing is chasing a dream. But what if it ends up being a practice that shapes me more than impacts others? In his book, “To Hell with the Hustle” Jefferson Bethke writes about living a life of obscurity. He describes a life that isn’t constantly available to others or “on” through social media access. Instead, one that has learned to steal away to hear the voice of Jesus above the other voices. To be known by Him. Bethke says:
“Jesus willingly walked into the lonely place. Why? Because while he knew he was the beloved, obscurity is where it sinks down deep into the bones. It’s where it’s seared into us permanently—if we will let it.”
This resonates with me. There are plenty of people vying to get noticed on the internet. Influencers selling you the brand they are being paid to represent. Celebrities sharing their political, social, and spiritual views to entice you to think like them. We pick up our phones in hopes to find a connection with others and instead, are blasted with a whole lot of noise. In all that noise, I feel like my voice sounds like a whisper. How does my voice point people to Jesus, the one who gives a full life? Not the Instagram picture-perfect kind of life. But a life where we are known as the Beloved, no performance or impact is required.
Life a decade ago
Obscurity is defined as the state of being inconspicuous, unknown, or unimportant. I lived a lot of life in obscurity before the existence of social media. Maybe you did too. It was just a little over a decade ago that I opened a Facebook account and only 6 years ago did I add Instagram to the mix. I simply lived with the intention of being with those who mattered to me.
Seeing a friend meant seeing them “face to face.” I used my phone for connecting with my long-distance friends in late-night chats. I didn’t need to make public announcements to my social circles every day. If I had a moment worth celebrating, I knew the small group of friends to call who would rejoice with me at the moment. When I was lonely, sad, or feeling disconnected, I knew which friends would be a listening ear. I connected with others who wanted to live like Jesus at weekly bible studies. None of these would be defined as influential Kingdom work. I simply wanted to live each day in a way that was pleasing to Him.
We ourselves feel like what we are doing is a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop. -Mother Teresa
Obscurity looked like being faithful in my work as a pediatric physical therapist, using my training and my hands being part of the healing process for kids who had experienced trauma or had physical disabilities or developmental delays. It meant hosting friends in our home on Wednesday nights for bible study followed by a watch party of the latest episode of Lost. And it was being awake in the middle of the night with my full attention on a baby who needed care or couldn’t go back to sleep.
Connections or friends?
There was a simplicity of life before others had constant access to our lives through modern technology. When you could be fully present with the family and friends who were sitting in the room with you without having distractions from your online connections. When you don’t battle the need to be noticed by posting that epic scenic photo, your kids’ latest accomplishments, or the cool event you attended. I know, it sounds like I’m against social media. I actually enjoy social media as a platform to share with a greater circle of connections. But can we be honest and acknowledge that followers aren’t the same as friends?
Often, I just need to check my motives for the “why” behind my post. Is it shareable because it will resonate with someone else? Or is it just for fun? Is it a moment I want to remember? Or am I hoping that all the comments and likes will make me feel noticed and valued? Social media can be valued for what it is: a wider connection but not necessarily a deeper connection. It is not the place where you are fully known.
If you’ve had to hustle every day on social media, you know it can be exhausting. That was my life when I ran a successful direct sales business for over a decade. Showing up daily to make a post, work the sale or organize a team event wore me down, especially as life moved more online with the worldwide shutdown from Covid. President Eisenhower once said, “What is urgent is seldom important and what is important is seldom urgent.” This quote reminds me that social media is a place that always screams urgent but is seldom important.
Being known in obscurity
The writing community I’m a part of (http://hopewriters.com) frequently references the balance between the craft of writing and the business of publishing. Writing may be my place of obscurity. Writing is a tool I use to process with God the things that I’m thinking and feeling. I’m learning to sift through my words and determine what is worth sharing and what is okay leaving in my closed journal. I’m simply being obedient to what God has asked of me. He sees what I do in secret. God doesn’t need my social media post to know what’s on my heart, to get His attention or be noticed. It’s beautiful to me that nothing I do is hidden from Him.
For me, one gift that happened because of the ongoing pandemic was to slow down and ask God how He wanted me to live. I shifted from the grind of selling to the life-giving investment into writing. Shifting from selling to writing isn’t about finding a different launching pad for impact. It’s about living into my identity as the Beloved, exploring all the ways that He has made me, and letting the lonely place shape me into my truest self. Obscurity in the world but being fully known, highly valued, and loved in the presence of the Father.