A good friend of mine at our church sent me a powerfully encouraging email this week related to last Sunday’s sermon. The sermon was about identity and belonging from the first part of Galatians 3. Our identity, like our salvation, is to be found in Christ alone. We struggle with this. We build our identities based on where we came from or where we live or how we vote or the size of our houses or the work we do. It’s even possible–easily–for a preacher to construct his identity around being a preacher.
The note from this friend very generously reminded me that I am doing what God created me to do: to inspire and encourage my brothers and sisters to give themselves fully to God in Christ. It was very nice. And timely. I get these kind cards and emails every now and then, and they always feel like they come directly from God. I’m so thankful to God for these Spirit-inspired encouragements. This time, the message came with a long quote from Richard Rohr, the author of several books on spiritual living.
I’m sharing the quote here in its entirety, but I want to emphasize the dynamic center of the whole thing: “The most courageous thing you will ever do is accept that you are just yourself.”
Great people do not need to concoct an identity for themselves; they merely try to discover, uncover, and enjoy the identity they already have. As Francis said to us right before he died in 1226, ‘I have done what was mine to do. Now you must do what is yours to do.’ Yet to just be yourself, who you really are, warts and all, feels like too little, a disappointment, a step backward into ordinariness.
It sounds much more exciting to pretend I am St. Francis than accepting that I am Richard and that that is all God expects me to be–and everything that God expects me to be. My destiny and his desire are already written in my genes, my upbringing, and my natural gifts. It is probably the most courageous thing you will ever do to accept that you are just yourself. It will take perfect faith, the blind ‘yes’ of Mary, because it is the ongoing and same incarnation. Just like the Word of God descending into one little whimpering child, in one small stable, in one moment, in one unimportant country, noticed by nobody. We call it the scandal of particularity. This, here, now, me always feels too small and specific to be a dwelling place for God! How could I be taken this seriously?”
I don’t know how you’re messing up your identity, where exactly you are misplacing the center of who you are, to whom you belong, and your ultimate purpose. But you might try the more courageous thing of leaning into who God created you to be and where he has placed you.
Peace,
Allan
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