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Who’s the “I” in your identity?

Several years ago, a friend and I met for coffee. The particular events in my friend’s life prompted a discussion between us on the subject of “Do Not Resuscitate”. As topics segued and rabbit-trailed, the dialogue shifted to something that was more centered on the question “At What Point Do I Believe I Have No Value?”

We contemplated the word “value” and realized that it was very closely associated (if not synonymous) with the word “identity”. For example, who I am had a very similar definition to what I value.

It was decided that if we could articulate our value, we would understand better what our identity is. Finally, this became our ultimate quest: to grasp our identity.

After months and many failed attempts at clasping a conclusion of any sort, a foundational sketch for value surfaced. It was more like an assurance that if anything has been created, it has been created for an ultimately good purpose and it is therefore valuable. We are heirs of God’s image, which is ultimate value. Whether I conclude a life is useful or admirable has no bearing on the reality that it is valued by God who has the decisive say in what is valuable.

The fact of a thing’s creation is the fact of its value. This bias had been formed in me at some point and was waiting to be spoken, and waiting to be an influential element in this contemplation of value and identity.

The idea that everything has value certainly didn’t narrow anything down for me, but it was a good start. As for defining that value past a clichéd-seeming sound bite and determining how that played out in the shoes I’d been given, well, I set out toward these new meanings by way of auto-dissection.

At the very surface, I find my value and my identity in a trade or a role. My ability to earn provision or accolades in my role glorifies the basis of this superficial layer: me—ego/flesh me.

Sifting down through the multiple levels of what I value (or how I am valued), I wandered past the layers wrapped in noble things, intrinsic things, the ability to enact any change, my genetics, my disposition, the ways in which I uphold things I deem “valuable”, and the motive for doing so.

These layers are easy to cling to if they show well. The point of crisis comes as these layers are in question.

I acknowledged the large contingency of people who aren’t afforded the opportunity to “layer up” with a comfortable level of provisions, or even tout a place in an esteemed cause. I examined the very vast array of quality of life that God allows to persist on this Earth.  Additionally, there are very real illnesses and shortages and tragedies all over the world which can render the most well-intended person “useless”.  And to be ineffective is to feel non-existent, and therefore, to feel of little value—at least that’s my own experience talking from the years of the recession.

For any of us who can hear and think, that first, primordial “garden-variety” question eventually enters: “Am I of value?” (Genesis 3:1-5).  The enemy can convince us that we are of no value during any point in our identity’s construction or deconstruction. But if anything had a beginning, then it has value, and so my own value does not rest on my own usefulness or even survival.

I dug deeper, because somewhere on the spectrum of value and identity are my first two daughters, who, if they were still alive in the bodies they left in, would likely not have the capacity to earn or achieve or contribute to the good of the world as the superficial eye sees it. And only an ignorant fool would tell me that Ava and Bella had no value.

The more I chiseled away, the more readily I was able to accept that value is awarded even if I can do no more than simply exist. In this lowly position, I became more empathetic and bonded with creation and its fated reality. I felt humbled and ready to accept this truth:

My identity is meaningful even if I am merely a vessel that receives grace and compassion and deliverance.

I sat in the quiet of that reality. If I were purely that—a life centered on receiving Christ—if that was my identity and the core of my being and if I let that be my source of value, who/what would I be?

Who is “I” when whittled down to this core reality?

“I” am no longer a scurrying, anxious and insecure entity. I am bigger and constant, like the Kingdom of God, and I am aligned to inherit the things of it, like hope and purpose and a vision for myself and others.

Who is the “I” who knows it can do no more than receive Christ? It is the “I” in the 23^rd Psalm: “I lack nothing… He guides me along the right paths… I will fear no evil… I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

It is the “I” in individual as much as it is the “I” in unity.

It is the “I” that is granted whatever it asks for in the spirit of Christ (John 14:14). And seeing with the eternal eye of the eternal “I” is to see what the Father is doing (John 5:19-20).

I could say that I am only of value if I do receive Christ and the things of Christ; and yet I believe we are valued even when we don’t. Why else would He die for us “even while we were still sinners”?

My identity has a new definition, and value has a more profound meaning. By discovering what or whom I value, I discover my identity, and vice versa.  And in fact, I have little value to any place or being so long as I believe it has little value to me.

Who am I? This is an evolving answer, but here is today’s definition:

I am that which I respond to in Christ. I am saved as I respond to His promise of salvation in me. I am forgiven, and I am at peace in Christ as He is those things in me. I am empowered and equipped as He in me.

Are you good at being good?   I’ve had my decades. Of course, the problem is that much of my definition of “good” is a delusion. And therefore, so is much of what I think is “bad”. And therefore much of makes me feel guilty, and much of what fills my calendar…

I shudder to think of who I might have been in history’s past, during the age of certain regimes and rules, because I’ve been so adept at culture’s “good de jour”. At best I could be the Pharisee; at worst… I don’t want to know.

The life-long attempt to align with the current perception of good is a noble (perhaps even divine?) desire. At least, better that, than to actually want to do evil! The pursuit of goodness is often the daily driving factor (yes?) to be it, to do it, to give it, to be worth it, to have it—to whatever attainable degree—assuming that upon achievement … what then? Regardless, this commodity, or lack thereof, is quite a powerful catalyst for all sorts of ways of living.

Generally, for the majority of people, being good by a relative assessment of the word bodes well for us. Until it doesn’t. It appeals as the ticket to eventual freedom, or immediate self-assuredness and merit, until it becomes a cross of oppression. Maintaining a validation of goodness by the world subtly morphs into carrying the weight of the world, until finally, for some of us at least, we give up.

If we are lucky—blessed—at some point, we will fail, or become profoundly disappointed in the power of our own goodness. We’ll see that it had its purpose and benefit in our lives, but that it cannot be an end-goal in itself because any sense of goodness constructed of this world is fickle, breakable, somehow self-serving, and finally, disappointing. It is not the Ultimate source of satisfaction.

What must I do to be good? To be perfect? To be saved? Healed? Or at least to be good enough? These are the questions that humanity—both the tormented rich and the hopelessly poor—has asked for thousands of years.

“What must I do, God?” I ask for several reasons. I suppose at times, I’ve asked with the motive of self-elevation. But also, I’ve asked because I’m seeking reassurance or guidance or help. I ask out of desperation and real concern for my situation or somebody else’s. Or I ask because I desire something which I don’t have and perhaps it’s because I’m doing something wrong. And I ask, because the horrible feeling of not being good enough comes at me from all sides. I just can’t seem to satisfy its burgeoning and elusive definition. When can I finally be at rest?

By whatever tragic, humiliating, painful, or contemplative means we come to our own end (either we cannot achieve good, or be satisfied by our version of it), there we find the gateway to the sufficient Goodness we’ve been seeking: the state of surrender—a resignation from chasing after my own definition of good. In that place, I have an opportunity to learn that God alone is good, and He is the only hope for me. When we finally experience this as truth, we say it less morosely, and more with a sort of praise or relief or gratitude. Maybe even excitement.

Of all the times in the Bible when person asks “What must I do?”, the answer is centered on knowing Christ, believing in Christ, and allowing Him to become our central point of origin for everything.

For the oppressed Israelites, for the bleeding woman, for the father of the dying child, for the thief on the cross, and for the doomed prison guard—each of them desperate to be rescued from their current or impending suffering, and into something good—the reply is: to “know God” (Jeremiah 9:24), and “Your belief has healed you” (Mark 5:34 and Mark 10:52).

Our belief, or acceptance, of who God IS, perfects us.

For whoever would like real, unbreakable goodness, the answer is: “Whoever believes in me will have (it)” (John 3:16 and John 6:40). If anyone wants to be saved from the darkness that is all around us, then “believe in the Light, that you may becomes sons of Light” (John 12:36).

For the rich young man who wanted to be perfect, Jesus essentially asks the man to believe that Christ alone is the source of status and security and importance—the things this man pursued. Jesus asks the man to live out this belief by dethroning everything else (Mark 10:17-27).

And to the crowd who seeks easy or sensational, short-term gain, yet longs for Christ’s approval, Jesus says “’Do not work for food that spoils, but for food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. For on Him (alone) God the Father has placed His seal of approval.’ Then (the crowd) asked him, ‘What must we do to do the works God requires?’ Jesus answered: ‘The work of God is this: to believe in the one He has sent.’” (John 6:27-29).

Without even realizing it, we really do want eternal life. Deep down, we want validation, security and love, and all the things that are of life-in-God. We just look for these things in the wrong places. We go after what we see with our nearsightedness—things that have their own disappointing end woven into them. And as we flail in the ensuing fear or anger or sickness, God simply says:

“Don’t be afraid; just believe” (Mark 5:36).

This means to accept as truth—as actual, real now-ness—that The omniscient, loving, powerful creator-Being is present and is bringing His overriding goodness to complete fullness in me and in all things. Even in this circumstance right now.

Developing a taste for this kind of goodness takes a miracle. Even as I write this, I’m wishing for a flatter stomach, for a vacation, for my children to reach their full potential, and that somewhere out there was a really good Pinot Noir for under $10.

Chasing our version of goodness is something we’re fated to re-surrender constantly—it (repentance) is the behavior pattern that we are tasked to be very familiar with in this world, because Jesus knows this world will constantly lure us back with its promise of enticing rewards and will fool us with its cover and seeming plausibility. Ebb, flow… ebb, flow.

But as God fills and re-fills each new, empty, resigned place in me with Himself, I begin to crave it more often and more completely. And gradually, my hope is growing for a fullness of God-in-me. (This is something that sounded ridiculous and foreign and anti-climactic to me in the height of my “good” years).

“Believe in Me”—that’s it! But most of the time, I can’t believe that’s ALL I have to do. Other times, I can’t believe that that would make me happy, and especially, I can’t believe that that applies to every practical thing in my life…

The miracle of believing is one of the biggest miracles of all, and yet it happens often enough to where I forget it is a work of God.

What is the ultimate definition of good? What is the timeless and current version of good? “God alone is good” (Mark 10:18).  When I believe that that is true, I am finally good enough.  My acceptance and pursuit and submission to God (and therefore the dethronement of whatever else concerns me today) is the only real hope for increasing goodness in me. And since Jesus illustrated how unlikely I am to do all of that believing and dethroning on my own, then truly, God alone is my hope for goodness to be brought to its fullness in me.

Moving forward through my insufficient funds, through my worries for my children, amidst my failure to live up to the golden standard of a virtuous mother, and toward my unknown future, will God’s promise hold true? Will I be good and perfect even as I just believe? Will my fear of the unknown be superseded by the eternal One who is making Himself known? Will I be made whole, will I be secure, will I feel validated, will I be content, will I possess real goodness with God-in-me regardless of my old definition of goodness being satisfied?

There is only one way to find out…

I think the only thing that God and Satan both agreed upon about me, is that I should definitely go to church.

Over the course of my life-long church-going career, church has been the perfect place for my narcissistic nature and guilty conscience and needy soul to clamor for something mutually satisfying.

The spotlight shines brightly at church, but just like the moon, each illuminated object has its dark side. The helper often burns out, the prophet is often cast out, and the building budget robs the down-and-out.

The pursuit toward good and the temptations for the ego are seamlessly woven together. The sword of truth is dulled and deflected by hearts who claim they already know, or by minds that are appeasing a comfort level. And so it goes, the path for the Kingdom of surrendered souls is all too often obscured by piles of potentially self-serving agendas.

Church: amidst the many also-true mission statements and objectives, it’s been defined by people as a place where we learn to be like Jesus. But with the Bible stories stacked—one right after the next—Jesus reads like a busy guy. So if this is in fact a/our calling, what exactly of Christ are we imitating?

Jesus was a lot of things. Depending upon how you see the facts, He was passionate, meek, a leader, a radical, a giver, a miracle worker, a person of tradition, a person who challenged tradition, a person of all types of ministries… And a church could get itself into trouble depending on exactly what it’s trying to emulate of Christ.

Thomas Merton coined the phrase best when he categorized ambitions into “roots or fruits”—the root being God Himself; and fruits being anything that grows as a result of our relationship with God.

Since we tend to be microcosms of our church—affecting and reflecting one another to a certain degree—it is good for the goose, the gander and the gaggle to ask “Am I seeking Christ himself or the fruits of life in Christ?”

Has the fruit become my god? Is a blameless record or successful need-meeting my noble ambition? Am I on a quest for the cutting edge, or a large following? Am I desperate for guidance? For wisdom?

First and foremost, Christ was one with the Father. His objective was to do the will of God. He implores us to love God and know God, and to abide in Him. If we are to emulate anything of Christ, let it be that—a humble, submissive life of seeking God. In all that we do, let Christ be our first goal. As a church, let us be like Jesus by emptying ourselves of any other root cause except oneness with God. It is fatiguing, if not utter soul death, to attempt to have a fruitful life or church any other way.

As we the church continue to evolve, we’ll likely perpetuate the swing back and forth between magnifying God’s love toward one another as a church, and magnifying God’s infinite grace and endless patience as we make a mess of it.

Meanwhile, my voice in the chorus of Truth urges that this is the individual and corporate priority objective: to do whatever our part is in abiding in God and knowing God.  And then “… all else will be added” (Matthew 6:33). The fruit of Christ-in-us will be that which we also seek: kindness, boldness, endurance, contentment, and real love for one another. And whether they take on a charismatic, conservative, artistic, local or international look, so much the better.

What would church look like if everyone in it had the goal of Christ?