Within the idea of identity, there is a deeper knowing which most of us avoid. No matter how much we think we know who we are, there is a tendency to rely on easy labels to attempt to describe who we are when all those labels typically indicate is what we do. The framework of our identity is made up of our jobs, families, churches and other activities within our lives at the cost of the deepest knowing of who we were created to be as related to our Creator.
It’s not bad to call ourselves a lawyer, housewife, pastor or some other descriptor, but what about when those things are taken away for one reason or another? What do we do when the things that define us are gone? Be thankful, that’s what.
When we get past the labels we are in very uncomfortable territory. The wilderness that exists just beyond the framework of identity we have built for ourselves is difficult. However, the oasis of revelation that leads us towards the promised land of security in who we really are is deeply fulfilling.
There is only one role that we have been given that stands the test of fire. It’s the role of son. It’s the relationship with the Father. That’s it; nothing else.
I don’t care how long you’ve been married; that’s not who you are at the core of your being. The better you know who you are, the better you are as a spouse but spouse is contingent on the core.
It doesn’t matter how many kids you have or what they’ve done to validate your raising of them compared to the son you are through His sacrifice for you. The better you are as a parent is contingent on the core.
The core, however, is hot. It is a difficult journey to the center of the universe as we know it. It’s a journey that takes a lifetime and is challenging each step of the way. It’s startling at its inception and affirming through its longevity.
I’m thankful for what I know about who I am and don’t know what I don’t know. I know that I have a Father, but the fullness of the realization of that Truth at its essence is elusive. I would love to have it all figured out, but the deeper I go the more I realize the shallowness of my previous platform of rest.