We desire to be great. Even more, we want to be seen as great. We want to be seen as strong, not weak. We want to be seen as the person who is able to pull up our own boot straps and carry on. We desire success. We want to be the epitome of self-sufficiency and independence.

I also believe that deep within each of us is an overwhelming and consuming desire to be loved.

But we tend to stop at success and the shallow affirmation of others. We've tricked ourselves into believing that accomplishments and affirmation in those accomplishments is the highest end. It's part of the reason why we have Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. I'm not going to sit here and lie to you: I sometimes find myself being just as guilty of carefully curating parts of myself for an online audience. I'm willing to bet everything that we all to some degree do this. We present an image of ourselves from just the parts of our lives and personalities and situations we wish to project. This can be seen in the sense of dread we feel when it comes to the most trivial of things like being tagged in an unflattering photo where we look like a mess or that our stomach looks too big or that one eye is half-closed.

There's nothing particularly wrong with social media and there's certainly nothing wrong with celebrating our accomplishments. I'm just saying that it is more than a coincidence that we do not see updates on Facebook or tweets on Twitter that say, "Spent the evening alone again last night," "Wonder if I'm ever going to be enough" or "Just manipulated my friend to get my own way." We all have at least one (often times more than one) thing we struggle with whether it be depression, anxiety, grief, insecurity, loneliness, anger, doubt, you name it.

I think all of the effort we put into trying to pretend something about us is true (that we are less or more than what we are) is based in a fear of being truly known, of being truly seen as we actually are. Each of us have wounds, vulnerable places that we feel the need to protect in order to emotionally survive. We are afraid of being found out. What if they know I get angry easily? What if they know I struggle with loneliness? What if they know that I go weeks grieving the loss of a loved one?

We sometimes feel the need to overcompensate for the things we are trying so desperately to hide.

Let me tell you one thing I know: This task of protecting yourself is exhausting.

I also believe that in the end, the only real love in the world is found when you let yourself be truly known. All of us, the good, the bad, the ugly, each victory and every battle. There is freedom and restoration in loving each other in, through and beyond what each person tries to hide and protect.

Most conversations almost always start out with the phrase, "So how are you?"

But I can't even begin to tell you the waterfall of tears I have seen and the wailing I've heard when I've sat with someone, looked them in the eyes and said, "but how are you really doing?" I can't tell you the chains I have broken and the cemented masks I have chiseled away at with those words. I can't even begin to describe the kind of sigh-filled relief and freedom I have seen so many people walk away with knowing that finally, somebody knows me and loves me anyway. There is freedom in the confession of who we are, whether it be the best of who we are or the worst of who we are.

I sometimes wonder if it is against the human instinct to desire to be known. Maybe people avoid being known because being loved through being known stings a little, reminding us of all the times we loved poorly or not at all or all the things we have done that make us feel unworthy of real love.

At least for me, I know that there are times in my life where I knew that I had to be known. And thank God I have people in my life where I can tear off my mask and breathe.

We should also be aware that the idea of freedom in being known does not warrant us to be reckless with ourselves. This I can tell you from personal experience. When it comes to human relationships, I sometimes find myself falling victim to the idea that I need to be open and transparent with everyone and their dog and Facebook. Of course, I believe that when we are not truly honest about ourselves with others, we are really robbing ourselves of authentic human connection.

This life has also taught me that we should only share ourselves and our stories to the people who have earned the right to hear us: The ones who say, "How are you really doing?" with every ounce of sincerity. The ones who truly want to know and you'll feel it in your heart if this person or that person is sincere and genuine. I'll be honest, this doesn't mean I don't have the impulse to constantly be vulnerable and one hundred percent transparent. I crave the human connection that comes with vulnerability.

But we are not made for promiscuity in human relationships. That's not community anyways, it's running the risk of casting pearls before swine and it's probably a profanity to our souls.

I only hope to be that shining city on a hill, though.

I am writing to you all today to tell you this: that the uncool parts of you (of us) are exactly what I invite to sit and eat around the table, around God's table. The only valuable currency in this world are the things we share with God and each other when we are uncool, lame, crippled and poor. Let's embrace each other in vulnerability. You may be uncomfortable at first to be seen in such an uncompromising light. But believe me, there is freedom and relief in it. It's OK, I can handle the stains of tears and saliva on my shirt. Let it out.

Maybe it is safer to protect ourselves. But around this table, around God's table, you shouldn't have to pretend or overcompensate. You can just be. And in just being, you can be known, be whole if only for a moment, and maybe even find a little rest.

Because keeping it all going is just exhausting.

To the people who know what this freedom feels like, I want to give you this commission: Go and free people. Know them. All of them. Your ability to get to know someone on such a profound level is a gift and you would be doing the world a disservice if you withheld that gift. This world needs to be set free. It's not your job to fix people, but you can start the long process of breaking chains and mending hearts.

I have the compulsion to know people because someone once dared to know me. And now, I cherish these people and all of the gifts they've given me, from poems and paintings to trivial things like key chains, snow globes and stuffed animals. I show them all off to anyone who will look at them. I show them off as if to say, "Look. There are people who know me and because of it there are people love me."

Someone sees and loves the weird, red-headed, sometimes-insecure kid sitting alone at a lunch table in middle school.

And that kid now knows how to love back.