We get asked who we are all the time because we always have some sort of identity attached to it. If you had asked me who I was about a month ago, this is how I probably would have answered that question:
“My name is Megan Jarvie. I am a believer and follower of Christ. I am a runner; I run about 35-40 miles a week. I am an English and Communications double major at Texas A&M University and I am planning on going to law school to become an international adoption lawyer because I love Zambia with my whole heart and would pick up and move there tomorrow. I adore my friends and would do anything for them in the drop of a hat.”
Do you see the problem with what I just said? Maybe you don’t, but I certainly do. I never had before, but I see the problem now. I see the problem because God is currently stripping me of most of that stuff which is making me realize how much I care about all of the titles in that short paragraph. It is almost embarrassing to admit, but I don’t know my identity. The only line that should matter in the paragraph above is the first line pertaining to being a believer and follower of Christ. You see, I know the right answer. I know that should be my identity. But if we’re all being honest with ourselves, how often is that the only thing that we care about? It should be the only part of that statement that matters, but oftentimes it isn’t. That part of my identity makes me think differently than the people around me. That part of my identity makes me stand out versus allowing me to blend in. That part of my identity continually reminds me of how weak I am and how deeply I need help in this life. That part of my identity calls me to love when I feel like hating. This part of my identity takes what I want and forces me to surrender that to someone else.
Sounds depressing, doesn’t it? Well it’s not. The person whose will I surrender mine to is perfect. He is all knowing. He is the most tenderhearted person in this world. He is strong enough to move mountains with a gentle sweep of His mighty hand. He was beaten and hung on a cross for being different. Though He required no help, He chose to come down to this earth in the form of a needy child. Everything I feel on a daily basis, He has felt tenfold. He should be my all-consuming identity because of this, but instead I so often push confine Him to one short sentence in lieu of surrounding myself with what I consider to be accolades, forgetting that to be His child and follower is the highest of all accolades.
So right now, I am being stripped of my identity by the grace of God and it is being replaced with His identity, because what is mine is actually truly His. I would be lying if I said it felt great, it doesn’t. In fact, it’s very painful to be stripped of who you think you are in order to be taught that everything you have previously boasted in is actually just a blessing from Him and not something that identifies you. Trying to figure out who you are and whose you are rubs your heart and soul raw. I feel exposed and far more open than I have ever felt in my life. Nothing is more humbling than having to look a best friend in the face with tears in your eyes and say, “I need help because I can’t do it all.” But that’s where I am because I have been trying to identify myself in so many other ways for my entire life other than solely as a child and follower of Christ. So now He is being gracious enough to “rub me raw” right now. And I know that I will be sutured up again with His healing hand.
“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” –Psalm 34:18
