Getting insight from someone about our lives is sometimes not so comfortable, or flattering. Lately I've been so blind to the truth of my actions that it's taken some really brave friends, and some fearless preaching, to break the news to me that I'm maybe not handling life as perfectly as I thought I was. It's a lot easier to look at your hardships and decide that you're the victim, holding next to none of the responsibility. In my head I know that this is not usually the case and can spout cliches like nobody's business. "It takes two" "There are always two sides to the story" yadda blah blah blech. Surely, however, I'm exempt from this. I have such faith in my own eyes, ears, and feelings, that I rarely doubt them. My side of the story is the complete version; and my perception of the situation is flawless. Hmmm maybe not so much. My mind has been opened to the idea that when I was wronged, I responded incorrectly. I have taken facts about a situation and responded by dragging those truths to other parts of my life where they don't belong. I've decided that because some friendships were so easily lost, that surely all friendships are one disagreement away from disappearing as well. That's sabotage friends, nobody can stick around if your assumption is that you can't disagree without the relationship ending. I notoriously categorize things as black and white, when in truth, there's a lot of grey to be considered.
What's worse is that I've dragged facts about people into assumed truths about God. Those are even more out of perspective, because translating the world's failures into God's failures is a sure fire way to lose faith in the one thing that is stable. The one being that will, without fail, remain perfect. If God hasn't met my expectations, is because my expectations were off. Period.
A large part of this morning's sermon was about placing your identity in Christ. This is a concept that I have largely ignored because it seems so simple. Identify yourself as a Christian, CHECK! Moving along. But the pastor spoke FOREVER about how we really place our identity in lots of other things. The category that I sadly fell into was what he called the "loosey goosey identity". These are the people who place their identity into lots of different things. I decided that I generally identify myself by: my children, my marriage, my incorrect/habitual idea of religion, my friendships, my looks, my family, and my Texanity. Unfortunately for us loosey goosers this means that we're exceptionally likely to have an identity crises on a daily basis, because one of these things is. going. to. fail. regularly. My kids often disobey, GASP. My husband doesn't shower me with flowers and romance... ever. I fail to read my bible every day, and my list of do's and don'ts is so long that nobody on earth could succeed. My friends are busy, and flawed, and simply cannot live up to the standards that I've set for them. My hair doesn't always behave, and sometimes I only put mascara on one eye. My family has their own problems. And Texas... well Texas is still awesome. Hearing that I need to place my identity, all of it, in Christ was intriguing. It feels to be a seemingly impossible thing that I would love to do because I can imagine, vividly, the peace that would come from that. The thought of being able to rest in the idea that my entire identity is safe within the confines of Christ makes me breathe deeper, sing louder, love harder, and trust boldly.
On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand. All other ground is sinking sand.
Where's your identity? Can you trust it?
5 comments:
My identity is not something to trust. It is simply a reflection of who I am - spouse, mother, singer, grandmother, scientist, athlete, dog lover, bicycle rider, . . . etc.
Then we are using the word identity differently. Because there are lots of things that describe me: mother, wife, friend, Christian, aunt, cousin, tall girl, dollhouseophobe. I am still all of those things, but I don't want to place the definition of myself in those things so strongly that when they fail, that I see my identity as having failed. Does that make sense?
Makes perfect sense. I identify myself with everything that I am (which is a lot) but I do not beat myself up when I fall short because I know I am imperfect and I am going to fail at some things, so I just pick myself up dust myself off and go on
I disagree. We are using the word in exactly the same way. In your blog, you say, "I generally identify myself by: my children, my marriage, my religion, my friendships, my looks, my family, and my Texanity." In your comment, you replace the word "identity" with "describe me". They are the same thing. Of course, when you are invested in any aspect of your identity, it is painful if that aspect changes against your wishes - like a relationship ending - and depending on the extent of your investment, it can feel like a failure. The alternative is to not make any investment in any aspect of your life. Is that what your minister is asking you to do? Seems to me that the only way to do that is to not care about anything. If you care about something, you risk loss. It's worth it to me.
He is certainly not suggesting that we don't invest, that would be tragic. I think that what the goal is, is to place my identity solidly in Christ, and not allow the other things to define me in a way that could detract from my identity as a whole. As an emotional person, maybe even more than average, I find myself swayed when friends that I've identified myself with don't act like the kind of friend that I hope to be. Or when my children don't behave the way that I've trained them/hope for them to act. If my identity/definition lies in those things than my identity changes with the changes in those things. When my identity is in Christ then it is unchanging and trustworthy. When that's where my identity is, I can invest even more! I can fearlessly invest in the people and hobbies that I choose because no matter what happens with those things or people, nothing changes about who I am, or where I'm founded.
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