“Keep your heart with all diligence, for out of it spring the issues of life.” Proverbs 4:23 (NKJV)
Hello, Poetry on Fire Wildfires.
As we continue our journey of guarding our hearts, I want to spend some time on a wound that is often overlooked because it does not always arrive with the same obvious signs as betrayal or rejection. We know when we have been betrayed. We know when we have been rejected. We know when we have been hurt.
But there is another kind of wound that can subtly settle into the heart and influence us more than we realise if we do not bring it before Jesus…
It is the pain of being misunderstood.
I am not talking about someone misunderstanding a fact, a conversation, or a situation. I am talking about those moments when people misunderstand your heart. They misunderstand your motives, your intentions, your decisions, or the season you are walking through. Sometimes these misunderstandings come from people who barely know us. Those moments can be frustrating, but they are usually easier to release. The deeper pain often comes when the misunderstanding comes from people who have walked closely with us for years…
These are the people who have shared life with us. They have sat around our tables. They have prayed with us, laughed with us, cried with us, celebrated victories with us, and walked through difficult seasons with us. They know parts of our story. They have witnessed our faithfulness. They have seen our sacrifices.
Then something changes...
A difficult season arrives. A transition takes place. A decision is made. Someone else’s voice becomes louder than relationship. Assumptions begin filling spaces where conversations should have happened. Before long, you find yourself standing in a place you never expected to be. People who once seemed to know your heart no longer appear to recognise it.
That kind of pain reaches deeper than most of us realise.
I think one of the reasons it hurts so much is because every one of us carries a God-given desire to be known. We want to be seen for who we really are. We want to be understood. We want people to see beyond our mistakes, beyond our weaknesses, beyond a difficult season, and recognise the heart beneath it all. This is what Love is in 1 Corinthians 13 – Love always believes the best.
People judge others by their actions, but they want to be judged by their intentions.
There is nothing wrong with the desire to be known. God created us for relationship. He created us to know and be known. The problem comes when we begin expecting people to fulfil something that only God can fully provide.
When people misunderstand us, something is exposed within us. We begin to see how much weight we have placed on the opinions of others. We discover how deeply we long for vindication. We realise how much we want people to understand our side of the story.
If we are honest, most of us have had moments where we wanted to say, “If you only knew the whole story. If you only knew the prayers I prayed. If you only knew the tears I cried. If you only knew the sacrifices I made. If you only knew what really happened.”
There is a part of us that believes understanding will bring peace.
Yet peace does not come from being understood by everyone.
Peace comes from being known by God.
That is a difficult lesson to learn because everything within us wants the story corrected. We want people to see what they missed. We want them to remember what they once knew. We want them to understand our hearts.
Yet there comes a point where we have to accept that not everyone will understand us. Not everyone will agree with us. Not everyone will interpret our actions correctly. Not everyone will remember years of faithfulness when trying to make sense of a difficult season.
If our peace depends on being understood by people, we will spend our lives exhausted. We will constantly defend ourselves, explain ourselves, replay conversations, and attempt to manage perceptions that were never ours to manage.
The truth is that misunderstanding often reveals a deeper issue than we first realise.
It reveals our desire for vindication.
Most of us do not simply want people to know the truth. We want them to acknowledge it. We want them to realise they were wrong. We want them to see our motives accurately. We want them to understand our hearts. We want them to remember the years that came before the difficult season. We want the story set right.
There is something deeply human about that desire.
When people form conclusions about us that are not true, everything within us wants to defend itself. We want to explain. We want to provide context. We want to tell our side. We want to correct assumptions and challenge narratives. It can be become consuming.
Sometimes those conversations are necessary. Sometimes wisdom requires us to address something directly. Scripture never calls us to avoid healthy conversations or Godly reconciliation.
But what happens when you have already had the conversation?
What happens when you have already explained yourself?
What happens when you have searched your own heart before God, humbled yourself, opened the door for restoration, and people still choose to believe something else?
What happens when misunderstanding remains?
This is where guarding the heart becomes more than a teaching. This is where it becomes discipleship.
Because eventually we come face to face with a question every believer must answer:
Do I trust God enough to be my Defender?
Many of us trust God with provision. We trust Him with opportunities. We trust Him with open doors and closed doors. We trust Him with finances, relationships, and direction.
Yet trusting God with our reputation can feel far more costly.
Perhaps it is because reputation touches identity. It touches how people see us. It touches our desire to be known, understood, and remembered accurately.
When our reputation feels threatened, our instinct is often to take control. We want to defend ourselves. We want to make sure everyone knows the truth. We want to ensure the narrative is corrected.
Yet when we look at Jesus, we see something remarkable.
Few people were more misunderstood than Jesus.
The religious leaders questioned His motives, twisted His words, and accused Him of things that were completely untrue. The crowds misunderstood Him. Even His disciples struggled at times to understand what He was doing. Those closest to Him did not always understand the journey He was on.
Jesus healed people and was accused of operating by demonic power. He fed multitudes and people still questioned Him. He loved perfectly and was called a deceiver. He raised the dead and people still sought reasons to reject Him. He carried no sin and was treated like a criminal.
If Perfect Love was misunderstood, why are we surprised when our imperfect efforts are misunderstood too?
If the Son of God was falsely accused, why do we believe faithfulness should somehow exempt us from being misrepresented? Think about it for a moment…?
What stands out to me is that Jesus never fought for His identity because His identity was secure. He knew who He was because He knew whose He was.
Again and again, we see Jesus entrusting Himself to the Father. Not because the accusations were true. Not because the misunderstanding did not matter. Not because He had nothing to say. He entrusted Himself to the One who knew Him completely.
Perhaps the deepest question we need to ask ourselves is not who misunderstood us. Perhaps the question is whether we trust God enough to be our Defender?
That question takes us to a place many of us would rather avoid. It takes us to surrender.
There came a time where I was surrounded by a group of people accusing me of things that weren’t true. The fruit and success of what God had accomplished was evident. However, personal attacks and personality traits were placed upon me that confused me… I knew that was not who I was. I remember the deep need to want to defend myself in the moment. It is difficult to sit in a meeting, completely outpowered and blindsided, and everyone sticks with the lie about you. If it was not for the presence of the Holy Spirit that came upon me in that moment, I don’t want to know how that meeting would have ended… I decided, by God’s grace, to not give them my tears. I decide what I feel, and I choose the fruit of joy in the midst of the storm. I heard God’s voice audibly, in the middle of the conversation: “Marilé, why do you want to defend yourself if you always say I am your Defender?”
I think that moment must have been similar to Goliath being hit in the head with a little pebble… Nothing made sense, but in that exact moment, it made FAITH! I could sense I was supernaturally strengthened as God’s grace filled me more and more. I listened to every accusation, I did not defend, I did not offer up the reality of what happened… I just listened. Once they were done, I gently, by the power and presence of the Holy Spirit, heard the following words being released through my mouth, carrying a supernatural anointing with it: “I would like to thank you for the opportunity I had to organise this event. From the feedback, it was a life-changing event, even called world-class by accomplished business-people, and everyone under the Word was forever transformed. Although things did not go exactly as you would have liked based on this feedback, I still want to thank you for the opportunity to be part of such a powerful conference. I believe God was glorified.”
That response was enough to end the meeting. I left the meeting, thankful to Jesus who held me together. Then I cried on my bathroom floor for two days. God met me there. On the bathroom floor. Like my very own Garden of Gethsemane moment with Him…
Surrender is one of those words that sounds beautiful until it costs us something. We love it when it means laying down fear and receiving peace. We love it when it means exchanging our plans for God’s plans. Yet there are moments in life when surrender requires something far more personal. It requires us to place our reputation, our desire for vindication, and our need to be understood on the altar before God.
I think this is where many believers wrestle. We know God sees the Truth. We know He knows our hearts. We know He understands the full story. Yet something within us still longs for others to understand too. We want them to know what really happened. We want them to see what we see. We want them to remember the years of faithfulness that came before the difficult season…
There is nothing unusual about that desire. It is deeply human. The challenge comes when our peace becomes dependent on it.
As long as we need everyone to understand us, we place our peace in the hands of people.
As long as we need vindication in order to move forward, we remain connected to the very thing that wounded us. As long as we are waiting for someone else to finally see our heart correctly, we will struggle to rest in the fact that God already does.
True surrender begins when we trust God’s knowledge of us more than we trust people’s opinions of us. It begins when we stop carrying the exhausting responsibility of managing perceptions and start resting in the knowledge that our lives are fully visible before Him.
- He sees every hidden act of obedience.
- He sees every sacrifice that went unnoticed.
- He sees every prayer that nobody heard.
- He sees every moment we chose integrity when compromise would have been easier.
- Nothing is hidden from Him.
- Nothing is forgotten by Him.
- Nothing is wasted in His hands.
What makes surrender difficult is that it does not always come with immediate resolution. Sometimes people do understand eventually. Sometimes relationships are restored. Sometimes misunderstandings are corrected and truth comes into the light.
But sometimes they are not.
Sometimes people continue believing what they have chosen to believe. Sometimes they carry a version of our story that is incomplete. Sometimes they never fully understand our heart.
- Can we still trust God then?
- Can we still worship then?
- Can we still remain faithful then?
- Can we still guard our hearts then?
That is where surrender becomes real. Not when people finally understand. Not when the narrative changes. Not when vindication arrives…
But when our hearts find rest in God regardless.
Jesus surrendered Himself to the Father long before the resurrection vindicated Him. He trusted His Father long before people understood who He truly was.
Sometimes we want resurrection before surrender.
Sometimes we want vindication before trust.
Sometimes we want understanding before obedience.
Jesus shows us another way.
He surrendered FIRST.
Perhaps guarding your heart is not about ensuring everyone understands your story.
Perhaps guarding your heart is not about ensuring everyone understands your story.
Marilé Strauss
Perhaps is it about trusting the Author of the story.
Living Poetry on Fire
This week, spend time with Jesus and allow Him to search your heart honestly.
Ask Him whether there are people whose opinions still carry more weight than they should. Ask Him whether there are conversations you are still replaying, narratives you are still trying to correct, or misunderstandings you are still carrying.
Ask Him whether you have truly surrendered your reputation to Him.
Healing follows where honesty begins.
As you sit with Him, resist the temptation to rehearse your defence. Instead, allow Him to remind you that your identity is not found in someone else’s interpretation of your story. Your identity is found in Christ alone.
Take time to thank Him for being the One who knows you completely. He knows the motives nobody else sees. He knows the prayers nobody else heard. He knows the battles nobody else understands.
Let His opinion become greater than every other opinion.
Let His voice become louder than every other voice.
Let His peace become stronger than your need to be understood.
Be a Wildfire
Most of us know what it feels like to be misunderstood.
Far fewer of us have considered how often we may misunderstand others.
The very wound that hurt us can become a wound we inflict if we are not awake.
The next time you are tempted to assume someone’s motives, remember how painful it felt when others assumed yours. The next time you hear a story, remember that there is often more beneath the surface than you can see. The next time someone walks through a difficult season, choose to remember years of faithfulness instead of defining them by one chapter.
Be someone who seeks understanding before judgment.
Be someone who chooses conversation over assumption.
Be someone who extends grace where others rush to conclusions.
Be someone who protects the hearts of others as faithfully as you want your own heart protected.
The world has enough critics. The world has enough judges. The world has enough people drawing conclusions from a distance.
Let us be different.
Let us reflect the heart of Jesus.
Guard your heart, Wildfires.
And as you do, help protect the hearts of others too.
Be a wildfire. 🔥
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