The People We Think We Know

Last weekend, while on vacation, I had the opportunity to reconnect with friends from my college days at Iowa State University. Most of us had lived on Nelson House in Westgate Hall, a co-ed academic house, over a period of five years. It was a place where friendships formed, lives intersected, and memories were made. It was also where Marcia and I first met.

Our gathering was fairly informal, with much of our time spent at the home of two friends who had also lived on Nelson House. Some of us ventured to the zoo and botanical center in Omaha. Mostly, though, we spent time talking, remembering, and catching up.

There were two people I had not seen in almost forty years. Others had remained part of our lives in various ways. What struck me was how easily many of those connections returned, even after decades apart.

We remembered who we had been, but we also discovered more about who we had become.

Our lives had taken remarkably different directions. I suspect that when we were college students, few would have predicted that the guy studying Animal Science would eventually become an Episcopal priest. I certainly did not have that particular future mapped out!

There is something wonderful about reconnecting with people who knew us during an earlier chapter in our lives. They remember experiences that helped form us. They may even remember things about us that we have long forgotten.

But there is a temptation in those relationships. We can assume that knowing someone years ago means we still know them today. 

In his letter to the Philippians, Paul writes to a community he knows and loves. He remembers their shared work in spreading the Gospel. He offers encouragement, expresses concern, and urges them to remain united in Christ. He even addresses a disagreement between two women who had worked alongside him.

Paul clearly cares about these people and their community. His words emerge from a relationship built through shared experiences and faith. But Paul’s relationship with the community at Philippi also reminds us of something important about our own relationships.

We may know someone’s history without knowing their present circumstances.

People change. Their experiences form them in ways we may never fully understand. Joys, disappointments, relationships, losses, and unexpected opportunities can take people in directions none of us anticipated.

Sometimes, out of affection or familiarity, we offer advice based on who someone used to be rather than taking the time to understand who they are now. We may believe we already know their struggles, their convictions, or what they need.

Grace invites us to approach one another differently.

It allows us to appreciate the past without expecting people to remain there. It encourages us to listen before assuming, to ask questions rather than supply answers, and to welcome the ways people have grown.

The 23rd Psalm that many of us know offers another perspective on this journey. The psalmist trusts that goodness and mercy will follow us all the days of our lives. Not simply during the familiar or comfortable chapters, but through the unexpected turns, difficult valleys, and changing landscapes of life.

God's presence accompanies us even when our paths take us far from where we began.

Maybe that is part of the grace of reunion. We discover that while our lives have changed, the possibility of meaningful connection remains. Shared history gives us something to celebrate, but curiosity and love allow the relationship to continue.

And this is not limited to old college friends. It applies to spouses, family members, neighbors, fellow parishioners, and people we encounter throughout our lives.

We never reach a point where we know everything about another person. There is always more to hear, more to understand, and more to appreciate.

The grace of reunion is not just remembering who we were. It is welcoming who we are becoming.

May we remain curious about one another, generous in our assumptions, and willing to let our relationships continue growing. God’s goodness and mercy are still accompanying us, and there are more chapters of our stories yet to be written.

Kevin+