Seeing Myself For Who I Truly Am.

This morning, I went for a walk. I told myself I was walking for exercise, or maybe for fresh air, but if I am honest, I was walking because I needed to think.

There are situations in my life that still gnaw at me, situations I keep turning over in my mind, even though I know I should have let them go long ago. One person in particular came to mind as I walked. He is someone I have worked hard to forgive. I have told myself I have forgiven him. I have prayed about it, written about it, tried to let it go. But forgiveness can be slippery. It seems settled one day, and the next it bubbles back up.

As I walked, I muttered to God under my breath, “He is not a nice person.”

And in that instant, what I felt inside me was a reply so quick and so simple that it startled me. It was as if God said, “Neither are you, love.”

Now, that could sound cruel, but it wasn’t. It was gentle. It was even affectionate. It was like a friend smiling at me, someone who knows me inside out and is not fooled by my polished version of myself. And it made me laugh out loud, right there on the street.

That laugh was important. It was a release. It was a reminder that I am not as nice as I like to think I am. I have sharp edges. I have blind spots. I have moments of unkindness that I would rather forget. And if I am honest, if people could see the inside of my heart on its worst days, I would not come across much better than the man I was complaining about.

This is not to excuse anyone’s actions. People can hurt us, and some wounds are deep. But that moment reminded me that it is very easy to sit in judgment of others while quietly excusing myself. And that is a trap I do not want to live in.

The truth is, none of us are “nice” all the time. None of us are as good as we would like others to believe. We curate our lives carefully for the world to see, but underneath we all carry contradictions.

I see this especially online. Sometimes people post things I do not agree with. Sometimes their choices and their lifestyles clash with my faith and values. And yet, if those same people could look closely into my own life, they might find plenty to judge as well. The roles could reverse easily.

That is the levelling truth I keep coming back to. We are all flawed. We are all works in progress. And if we can learn to laugh at ourselves instead of building elaborate excuses, maybe we will also learn how to be kinder to each other.

When I read Psalm 139 in the Message translation of The Bible, there is a line that says, “Investigate my life, O God.” It is one of my favourite scriptures. I return to it again and again because it never fails to open up new meaning. The word investigate is sharper than the more traditional search. It suggests a deep look, a thorough inspection, the kind that leaves nothing hidden.

And this morning, I felt exactly that. Not in a way that condemned me, but in a way that revealed me to myself. The moment I heard, “Neither are you, love” was not a scolding. It was a gentle investigation, pointing out that my own heart needed as much grace as anyone else’s.

That is the strange comfort in all of this. Whether you believe in God or not, whether you are deeply religious or not religious at all, we all know this much: no human being is completely good. We are all complicated. We are all capable of both kindness and cruelty.

What makes the difference is whether we are willing to see ourselves honestly. To look at our flaws without flinching. To laugh when we realise we are not nearly as “nice” as we thought. And maybe, in that moment of honesty, to find the freedom to extend a little more patience, a little more understanding, to someone else.

Because in the end, none of us are the shining heroes of our own stories. None of us are perfect. And maybe that is where true connection begins.