By Sandra Bost
It’s been 35 years since my high school graduation. That feels unreal. In my mind, my classmates and I are still those same fresh-faced, big-haired teenagers that were running late for algebra. Certainly not the people comparing knee surgeries and reading glasses. Three and a half decades? Impossible. But wow–so many memories. And thankfully, most of them don’t involve math. (Except for your class, Ms. Davis!)
One particular memory settled itself deep in my thoughts this week, and I found myself buckled in on the passenger side of the Remembrance Rider as we took a trip down memory lane. We turned onto a path I’ve learned to avoid–yet this time, led by the Holy Spirit, the journey came full circle instead of getting me stuck at the dead end. And, it led me to a lesson that I felt was worthy of sharing.
It’s a memory from my senior year–an event that should have brought joy and excitement. And for those looking on from the outside, that’s exactly what it appeared to be. But, what the general public and well wishers couldn’t know was how the story came about.
You see, In 1989, when my name came to the top of the ballot for Homecoming representatives, it wasn’t because of popularity or prestige–it was because of a prank. Yet, the result was real: a crown, a title, and a shift in how others saw me. Most offered admiration, while a few people responded in jealousy or skepticism. But inside, I just felt like an imposter, unsure if I deserved such an honor.
I rarely talk about this–mostly because it feels self-congratulatory to bring it up. And to try to explain the whole story feels like unraveling a tangled thread. But this week, it reminded me of how perspective shapes our reality–positively or negatively. From the outside, it looked like a victory. But inside, it felt like a burden. And for those watching, assumptions were made–about favoritism, popularity, or worthiness–without knowing the full story.
God’s word reminds us that He sees differently. While people judge based on appearances, achievements, or rumors, God looks deeper. He sees the heart. He knows the story behind the crown, the heartache behind the fall. In I Samuel 16:7, when Samuel is tempted to place the anointing on Eliab–Jesse’s oldest and seemingly most suitable son–instead of David, the youngest son and a humble shepherd, The Lord tells him not to judge the outward appearance. He says, “The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart (NIV).” And He calls us to do the same.
Things like status, achievements, and mistakes are not reliable indicators of a person’s true worth or character. With God’s guidance, we should seek to understand people more deeply rather than surface-level assumptions.
Social media has made this exponentially more important to understand. It is so easy to view others’ lives through rose-colored filters and compare ourselves to skewed scarlet speculations. Likewise, it’s simple–and dangerous–to take snippets of what we think we understand and create entire narratives about someone’s life or character.
When we judge others based on limited information, or social media snapshots, we risk misunderstanding them and withholding the grace and compassion they may need. We also risk missing our own self-worth, which should be anchored in Jesus, by measuring ourselves against posts that tell only half-truths.
I shudder to think of anyone who ever used that tainted moment in my life as a measuring stick of their own worth–especially because it had such a negative impact on my own.
One of my favorite songs by Nichole Nordeman is called “Take Me as I Am.” The chorus goes:
“But the gap grows wider
Between who I am
And all I aspire to be
I never could be good enough
To measure up
But You want to take me as I come
You’re the only one that can
Take me as I am.”
It is such a beautiful reminder of the truth that every person carries a story that only God fully knows–and only He can truly define our worth. When we allow Jesus to teach us to look beyond appearances and assumptions, to see others (and ourselves) through His eyes, and when we humbly admit we don’t know the whole story, we become better equipped to respond with Grace–to others and ourselves.
And maybe that’s the real crown worth wearing–the one placed on us by a King who knows our hearts, not just our headlines. Even a Homecoming Queen needs reminding that her true worth was never in the title, but in the One who calls her beloved.
Thank You, Jesus, for seeing our hearts and loving us, even when we feel unworthy.
