You Don’t Know Me
Some traps are loud—you can see them coming. But others creep in quietly, without any warning signs.
One of the most dangerous? Familiarity.
Familiarity whispers things like, “I know you. I know your family. I know your story.” And it speaks as if that’s the full truth. But it’s not.
Jesus Himself dealt with this spirit when He went back to His hometown. And if He faced it, so will we.
The Trap of Familiarity
Mark 6 tells us Jesus returned to Nazareth, and instead of celebration, He got skepticism. The people who had watched Him grow up couldn’t see Him beyond their memory. They said, “He’s just a carpenter, the son of Mary.”
That wasn’t just casual talk. In their culture, naming a man by his mother was a sharp insult—questioning His legitimacy, cutting at His identity. They reduced the Messiah to the carpenter they thought they knew. They saw the sawdust, but they missed the Savior.
And here’s the reality: if they did it to Jesus, don’t be shocked when people do it to you.
Maybe you’ve felt it at a family gathering, when someone says, “Remember when you used to…” Maybe you’ve experienced it with old friends who refuse to see the change God has worked in your life. They try to pull you back into an old version of yourself. And if you’re not careful, you’ll start believing them.
That’s the danger of familiarity—it creates a prison of perception. A box people want you to live in, based on who you were, not who you are in Christ.
The Weight of Unbelief
Mark goes on to record something sobering: “And because of their unbelief, he couldn’t do any mighty miracles among them.”
Think about that. Jesus—the Son of God, full of power and authority—limited not by weakness, but by their unbelief. Their doubt polluted the atmosphere so much that it blocked what God wanted to release.
That’s what unbelief does. It doesn’t shrink God’s power—it shrinks our access to Him.
And often the hardest person to convince isn’t your family, it’s you. You start to hear the whispers: “You’re not good enough. You’re not spiritual enough. You’re still that same person you used to be.” And before you know it, you’re praying small prayers to a big God, because you’ve let other people’s perception shape your faith.
But grace isn’t about yesterday—it’s about right now. It’s not just forgiveness of the past, it’s power for the present.
The Declaration of the New
That’s why 2 Corinthians 5:17 is so vital: “If anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: the old has gone, the new is here.”
That means Heaven already updated your file. Your record has been cleared. Your identity has been rewritten. You are not who you were—you are who God says you are.
So the next time someone tries to chain you to the past, you can declare: “You don’t know me like that anymore.” When the enemy reminds you of your failures, you can remind him of his future. When old labels resurface, you can step forward with confidence and say, “That was me then, but this is me now.”
The truth is, they thought they knew Jesus, but they didn’t. And the same is true for you. People may think they’ve got you figured out, but they don’t know the version of you God has called.
You are not a prisoner of the past—you are a pioneer of purpose.
Takeaway
Where are you still letting familiarity hold you back?
Whose voice are you listening to more—Nazareth, or Heaven?
What would shift in your life if you fully believed God’s word about you?
Closing Thought
Here’s the truth to carry with you: they thought they knew you. But they don’t know the you God has called.
So when those voices rise up—whether from others, from your past, or from the enemy—you can stand on God’s word and say with confidence:
“You don’t know me.”
