How to know a person

As children, we all have a natural curiosity. We ask questions without fear, eager to learn, to know, to explore. I saw this in my own children, especially in my son, who at four years old would constantly ask, “Why?” and “How come?” until we had no more answers to give him. But that relentless curiosity is something we lose as we grow older, and it’s replaced by assumptions and a desire for comfort.

It was a nine-year-old child who taught me what it means to truly want to know someone. He lingered around me after class one day, waiting until we were alone, and then asked me the most thoughtful, and sometimes deep, questions. They weren’t about trivial things. They were about my life, my struggles, my heart. “What happens when you eat peanut butter?” he asked. And he followed with, “Does it hurt?” “Does it make you scared?” “Is it awkward when people are around?” And then, his last question: “Have you ever wanted to eat peanut butter so you could die?” It was a question only a child could ask, innocent yet profound.

In that moment, this young boy brightened my heart with his curiosity, his concern, and his desire to understand. He treated me with kindness, respect, and deep care. He made me feel known, and in that, he showed me the kind of interactions I want to cultivate in my own life. That child, unknowingly, was an illuminator. And as I reflect on his words and actions, I’m reminded once again of the kindness Christ calls us to: a kindness that sees, that listens, that asks the deep questions to make known and honors the uniqueness of every person he created, and all those whom we encounter. But in our everyday interactions, how often do we think we know someone before really listening to them?

David Brooks’ book, How to Know a Person resonated with me so deeply. He answered that question for me – How do I get to know someone? Brooks, a seasoned journalist, has spent years studying how we interact with one another. His work dives into what it means to truly know someone, to make them feel seen and understood and it’s striking how Brooks writes with deep humility. Even as an expert on human behavior, he acknowledges that there’s still more to learn about how to make people feel truly known.

Brooks lays out two types of people in his book: Diminishers and Illuminators. Diminishers are those who don’t ask questions, who can’t or won’t see things from someone else’s perspective. Illuminators, on the other hand, are those who are genuinely curious, who ask good questions and listen intently. They seek to understand, to see the world through the eyes of others. That distinction touched my soul. Do I approach people with curiosity, or do I assume I know more than I actually do? Do I seek to illuminate, or do I diminish?

I strive to be an Illuminator. I want to listen with intention, to ask the kinds of questions that show people they are valued. If someone called me an Illuminator, I think my heart would burst. To know that I’ve made someone feel known and respected; to help them recognize the beauty and value in themselves, that’s my deep desire. It’s not just about being kind; it’s about making sure the other person feels truly known by Christ and others.

In this pursuit, I’m often reminded of Christ. He is the ultimate Illuminator, the Light of the World, who knows us deeply and intimately. When he came to earth, Christ saw the hearts of those around him and, with great compassion, sought to reveal truth in ways that honored their dignity and humanity. He asked good questions, he showed patience, and he cared deeply. He could have walked on earth with all the answers, yet he chose to engage with others in humility, with a curious and open heart. And in doing so, he invited us to do the same, walking alongside others with faith like a child, full of wonder and curiosity.

So, how are we doing in this? How are we reflecting Christ in our interactions with others? Are we following his model of what it means to see others, to ask the right questions, to gently probe and reveal truth in a way that honors their hearts and circumstances?  Are we approaching people with a heart that desires to know them, or are we coming in with assumptions? It’s easy to bring knowledge from our studies and experiences, whether from God’s Word, psychology, or sociology, but that doesn’t mean we fully understand the unique makeup of another person.  I’ve been called “sensitive”, and even “snowflake” at times by those who know me.  While I used to shy away from those labels, I now embrace them. I care deeply, love intentionally, and sometimes life feels heavy to me.  I’m okay to be known as a snowflake.

Just as true snowflakes are beautiful in their individuality, so are people. Again, it was through children - in a kindergarten class I was in last week – who understood this with comfortability and joy. One girl noted that although each of the students sketched snowflakes with six arms, none of them were exactly alike. “They’re all the same but they’re all different,” she chimed.  “I think we should ask everyone why they made the snowflake the way they did.” She was kind and respectful in her curiosity to know each person because she saw each child’s unique value and perspective.  She wanted to know them without any assumptions. 

How do you want to know a person?

Questions to consider:

1. Do you move toward people with a desire to know, or do you assume?

2. Do you illuminate or diminish?

3. Was I wrong to withhold the answer to the last question from the child? Why?

4. How has Jesus been a model of getting to know a person?

5. Can you remember a time when you experienced the kindness of someone who made you feel known?