Identity in Christ

Our preacher is going through a sermon series about growth in Christ and spending time on the identity piece of it.

It hit me this morning that my identity in Christ is part of the struggle I've had recently with my feelings toward one of my brothers.

For the most part, I don't struggle as much as others I know with my identity in Christ. Honestly, that has nothing to do with me being better or more adaptable or smarter than anyone. It's because God put two very strong, godly people in my life for six years who constantly taught me where to find my identity. I'm also not saying I don't ever struggle, it's just not my biggest struggle at times.

Those two people put a lot of effort into teaching me that I am first and foremost a child of God. God created me and knows me. He hears my prayers and he loves me regardless of how awful I am. God does not see me as my biological dad does. He doesn't treat me that way and he isn't warped like him. Nothing that is said or done to me is a reflection of how God thinks of me.

It was eight years ago this month that I was baptized. Eight years ago last month that I cut ties with my family. It has never been easy to trade my dysfunctional family for God and a church family. It has been unbelievably hard to trade that last name and turmoil as my identity for the identity of Christian and child of God.

On 9-11, my middle brother went to Wichita and did the high rise stair climb in honor of the fallen heroes from the Trade Center. A few days later, there were pictures on social media.

Firstly, I didn't recognize him. It took deductive reasoning to figure out who I was seeing. When you are looking at a picture of your own brother and you don't know who he is, it rattles you. I love my brother, but the years have stolen some of my memories of faces and voices. Or, maybe I have tucked them away in a place where they won't illicit pain or memories.

The emotion didn't stop there. He's a firefighter. That makes me proud of him. I have hoped and prayed that our dysfunctional lives would not keep them from having a caring, serving heart. I have wanted and hoped for them to have a softened heart under their rough exterior and broken lives. Both of my brothers are firemen. So proud!

There was harder emotions to overcome. I've been told over and over how physically unhealthy he is. Here he is, a firefighter. Either he's had healing in miracle proportion or we've been lied to for years. Knowing my family, it's more likely that we've been lied to for 20 years. Not surprising, but it's hard to swallow.

Another thing that struck me was the comparison. They are serving their communities. They are putting their lives on the line. They work full time jobs and care for their families. On the surface, they have everything. They look happy.

A couple things about that, things that are dangerous to think when you don't consider or see the whole story. They are so much better than me. They struggle less. They are happier. They have everything I want. They serve in ways I never could. All while I sit at home everyday and do nothing. I struggle. I don't have what they have. They don't need me. Their lives have gone on without any feeling of loss, while I grieve losing a relationship with them. I agonize over what we went through and pray for a better life for them, when they apparently don't need me or anything better than what they have.

All that would be true, IF my identity were still solely found within that family of origin. It's not though. My identity is different now. The difference isn't that they are better or happier. The difference is that my life, heart and mind have been transformed. I know the back story. There's not health for them. The things we find important are worlds apart.

I am a different person. I hope that if my brother saw me, he wouldn't recognize me. If hope he'd see a happier, more adjusted person. I hope he'd see that I'm a softer, loving person who cares deeply about him. I hope that after a few minutes, he'd see his sister by looking into my eyes. I hope he'd see that I am a Christian and those changes aren't to be feared but embraced.

Finding that identity in Christ has not been easy, but I'm thankful for it. As painful as it can be, I'm thankful my identity has shifted from that terrible life I left behind to what it is today.