How would you answer that question? Would you simply rattle off your name, date of birth, address, etc. to the person who needed to know?
Or would you automatically list your identity in terms of relationships (“I’m a spouse, sibling, child, parent, grandparent, friend, etc.”) Or perhaps turn to your career field or current job for an easy answer?
If you were to, instead, answer according to, say, some aspect of your personality or a skill, talent, or hobby that’s prominent in your life, would that provide a clearer picture of you as a person?
When someone “steals” our identity, what does that mean? Supposedly they “become” us, at least in terms of having access to our money and credit, buying things in our name and making off with what we have worked hard to earn.
But are any of these things, in the truest sense, a real picture of our identity?
I firmly believe that our identity goes far beyond what can be listed on a small plastic card or even in a social media profile. Instead, in the deepest sense, it is the very origin of our soul mixed with the elements of our material heart, mind, and body while we walk the earth AND it is, springing from that origin, the foundation upon which the rest of our life (our actions, decisions, and sense of personal direction) is built.
While reflecting quietly on the depths of my own identity this weekend, I wrote a poem that demonstrates what the first part of the above statement means in my life at its most important level. Please allow me to share it with you here.
Identity 101
I come from a God
Who has never produced a single flaw,
Who knits supremely with needles finer than fishbones,
Who will always see me as His priceless handiwork.
I turn from a God
Who was weeping at my absence long before I left,
Who wants only my best – while I chase slippery
perfection,
Who will always do His utmost to show me His door stands wide open.
I pray to a God
Who created time for our finite minds alone,
Who holds its limited, counted sand grains in His
capable hands,
Who will always hear my cry – no matter its volume.
I cling to a God
Who swaddled me in arms supremely meek,
Who offers me unlimited time in the spot at His side,
Who will always grant a feast for the soul in the
touch of His hand.
I learn from a God
Who was planning my courses with precision long before
I breathed,
Who scaffolds the lessons in all my days – reviewing as
necessary,
Who will always give the wisdom I need to complete
each application.
I love from a God
Who has modeled the only way to care completely,
Who restores a broken world through clay vessels like
me,
Who will always know what we were is what we are and
what we will be.
Next week, I’ll reflect a bit further on the second part, about the foundation.
