The Day I Lost My Identity.

May 5, 2012. This was the day I became a college graduate. Walking across that stage, taking that diploma in hand, I only saw the gain. Months would pass before I'd realize what I had lost.

Our identities are fragmented and malleable. We construct them from a vast scrap-pile of various factors, weighing the importance of each as we see fit: gender, religion, ethnicity, social position, favorite color, and the like. This is how we define who we are.

For the past 17 years, a huge portion of my identity had been allotted to the category of good student. When I walked into a classroom, I knew who I was. I knew what I was fighting for. I knew that I could succeed. I wish I could tell you that all that mattered to me was doing my best, or learning as much as possible simply for the sake of learning. But if I'm being completely honest--I wanted the grade. It was the proof that I mattered, confirmation that I was somebody.

Then, in an instant, that identity was gone. And suddenly, the other pieces of my self seemed so inadequate. I thought the transition from good student to good worker would be a relatively easy one, but months after graduation, I'm still in the pit of jobless. My single relationship status certainly does nothing to boost my self-esteem; without schoolwork to keep me occupied, it suddenly became impossible to block out the fact that everyone else is settling into their role of boyfriend/girlfriend, fiance, husband/wife, or parent, while I am well on my way to becoming the crazy old cat lady (when someone looks you in the face and tells you that's what you're going to be someday, the fear never really leaves you, even years later). And with my friends scattered across the countryside, I don't even have the title of best friend to cling to.

It's only recently that I've begun to truly grasp how this has affected me these past few months. I've always had a lot of insecurities, but the struggle with self-loathing lately has been vicious. Not to mention more than a little ridiculous.

But now, I know. Exactly why I'm going through this. For so long, I have founded my identity on the shifting sand of how well I can perform, on the accolades I get from those accomplishments. This identity I've poured so much time and energy into creating--it's just a mask. It's not me at all. As if an identity I can salvage from the broken bits of this world could ever be greater than the identity I already have; I'm a superhero hiding behind every false identity I can find, afraid I won't have what it takes to fly, when that power is already a part of me.

Because I am a daughter of the King. The One who holds the stars in the palm of His hand. It is the only identity that matters. It is the only identity I need.

Lately.

I've been tired. I've been depressed. I've been irritable. I've been whiny. I've been self-deprecating. I've been jealous. I've been bitter. I've been cynical. I've been selfish.

Basically: I have once again shifted myself into the center of the universe.

And it's exhausting. Constantly trying to protect myself, ensure my own happiness, figure out my future. Worrying about the hundred thousand things that could go wrong every second of the day, spinning my life even further from my control. On, and on, and on.

You know something? I don't think I've ever felt peace when my focus has been on myself.

Peace comes when my eyes are filled up to overflowing with the vastness of God, when I'm singing to Him or serving Him or remembering His promises. Peace comes when my self fades away into insignificance. When I trust God so completely with my life and am so secure in who I am as His daughter, I don't have to spend all my time dwelling on it, stressing and striving and doubting.

Trust. It's what my life keeps coming back to, lately. Pulling me in like gravity. Reminding me: It's time to turn my face to Him again.

Dark Circles Shadow the Eyes.

I am not strong enough for this. The pressure too much, splitting the seams, quickly I am draining. Only a few drops--left (drip, drip), not enough to scream. But I want to (scream). To shove up through the concrete cracks, a flimsy blade of grass, I can almost reach the--sun, I do not care if I--burn. If I can only see that spear-shaft of light, one last time is enough. The good fight is worth fighting, my blood is not too high a price, it does not belong to me. That is why, I stretch my brittle body from these fissures, (a body) pale brown with drought. (And) I will wait (for rain) to coax me into breathing, or I will turn (to dust).

Old News.

Some days, I really feel the weight of Solomon's revelation, There is nothing new under the sun. Today is one of those days.

All these words. Arranged and rearranged in variations less infinite than we'd like to believe. And most of the arrangements that mean something to people have been branded cliché, and among writers, clichés are a crime at least as heinous as poor grammar.

Yes, today is one of those days. When cynicism is winning.

You realize, however, I can never end on that note. To end on that note would mean giving up, admitting defeat. And regardless of how I feel, I know that surrendering is not an option for me. Partially because I'm much too competitive to go down without a fight. But mostly because my victory has already been assured.

Sure, you've heard all these words before. They are nothing new. Cliché, even. But they are true. And the thing about truth is, no matter how many times we've heard it, I think we can always use a little reminding.

Still Learning.

(These roots can go on for miles). Another paradox.

Lesson #2: It is in the midst of your greatest vulnerability that you discover your deepest strength.

We are raised with the lie, and we believe it. That invulnerability is strength. The tough outer shell, the impenetrable exterior armor. I'm only telling you this because I don't want you to get hurt. That is why we wear the mask. Razor-edged laughter instead of tears, crack the smile that splits your insides into so many shards swept under the rug, this cynicism, this apathy, deflection, protection, play the broken-record to forget we've lost reasons to in- or exhale, I-don't-care, I-don't-care, I-don't-care.

We are raised with the lie, but the truth is: This is not strength, but only fear.

Strength is the strip down to the bone. You don't need a vest if you can take the bullets. To be bare, to be honest, to cut your own heart out on that platter, to fight with the last that you have, to fight with the best that you have, to care enough to risk everything, to break, to bleed, to die.

Right here. At the end of the road. This place you call weakness. When you reach this place, you will find what it means to be strong. And you will marvel at how it feels to be alive.

Dear God,

You knew exactly what I needed. It shouldn't surprise me, the way You always come through. But I find myself amazed, every single time, that You can be so faithful, so good.

Every time I've turned around these past few months, You've been reminding to trust You, regardless of my circumstances. Over, and over, and over again. And to make sure I get the message not just in my head, but also in my heart, You've been making me wait. You're still making me wait.

And I can't pretend that I'm okay. The truth is, I'm a mess. But deep down, I know something, and it's like the anchor that keeps pulling me back, time after time, regardless of the emotional currents I ride. I know, down deep in the center of my being, with a childish certainty I can't explain, that everything's going to be okay. The waves shove me this way and that on the surface, but in the depths, I feel Your Spirit holding me, and I am not afraid.

I guess what I'm trying to say is: Thank You, Daddy. As frustrated as I am in this place, as much as I would rather be anywhere else, I know that You have not abandoned me. In fact, You're transforming me in ways that will impact my life more than I can even imagine right now. So in the meantime, while I wait, my soul will bless Your name.

Easy as 1-2-3.

It really is that simple. He is our God. And our God never fails. His plan is perfect, every time, down to the most minute ripple that stirs the waters of our lives. We flatter ourselves into thinking we have the power to dismantle His Kingdom with a single mistake or wrong turn on our part, but it isn’t true. Because even our blunders serve to reveal the true genius of His artistry. Jonah thought He was running away from God’s plan, but he ran (or swam, to be more specific) straight into it—“it” being the shadowed, rank belly of a whale, which became a vivid portrait of grace and forgiveness and love.

I am often so paranoid about taking a wrong step, I am afraid to move. How faithless am I to live as if God would desert me if I made a mistake? How arrogant am I to live as if I could find a place to fall where God couldn’t catch me? How ridiculous am I to live as if God’s goodness was dependent on my own?

I pretend like I’m being spiritual, figuring out exactly what God wants me to do before making a move. But in reality, I’m still making myself the center of the universe. Acting as though the fate of the world rests in my ability to read the signs and choose the correct door. Forgetting that while I’m off making plans (and questioning myself every minute along the way), God is determining my steps.

So. Here’s to moving. Here’s to life-altering decisions and irreversible steps. Here's to making mistakes. There’s no reason to be afraid; my God has promised to be with me wherever I go.

Note to Self:

Your value has already been determined, established by the highest bidder. It was a price beyond measure.

You think by these things you will be made whole: success in your career, intellectual pursuits, good deeds, falling in love, changing the world. You think by these things you can increase your worth. Polish away the flaws and insecurities until you shine.

Value, however, does not come from the quality of the product, but from the price that someone is willing to pay. And there is no price greater than blood. You were paid for in blood.

All these pursuits, you never stop chasing. But you cannot increase your worth, or decrease it. Regardless of what you accomplish, the price placed on you by others, whose approval and love you so crave, will always fall far short of the price that's already been paid.

Your value has already been determined. You have been declared of immeasurable worth.

Don't Stop Believing.

Fun fact about me: I have a bit of a stubborn streak.

Here's a brief story from my childhood to illustrate. Once upon a time, when I was somewhere between the ages of four and six, there was a scary waterslide at a pool we often visited. One day, my parents decided that I needed to conquer my fears, and thus began bribing me to go down the slide. I refused. The more I resisted, the more extravagant the bribes became: ice cream, money, a kitten, a puppy, a pony. Still, I would not yield. 

A week later, I chose to go down the slide all on my own, with no incentive whatsoever. Looking back, I kinda wish I had chosen the pony.

I usually view my stubbornness as a fault of mine that needs working on. It doesn't always work to my benefit. Being stubborn can be costly. If you don't believe me, just ask Jonah.

But that's not really what I want to focus on today. Because there's a flip side to this issue--a way to use the powers of stubbornness for good instead of evil. 

In my devotional this morning, I came across a curious phrase: "a stubborn insistence on acknowledging that God is good." I love that. It makes me think of a little kid, stamping his foot, believing against all odds that he is right, and challenging anyone to disagree. 

Stubbornness is irrational. It clings to what it knows or wants or believes regardless of the evidence presented against it. It might be called naive, ignorant, or narrow-minded. It isn't swayed by the opinions of others; in fact, the more pressure that is placed upon it, the deeper it digs in.

Obviously, I'm not saying we approach all of life this way. Some Christians do, and because of it, I think many of them miss out on the rule-defying, box-breaking intricacies and mysteries of God.

But. What if we put on this attitude towards the Enemy, about the things we knew to be true? Like the fact that God is good. What if, in the midst of the darkest of circumstances, we stubbornly refused to believe Satan's lies that our God has abandoned us? What if we were like Job, who stubbornly praised his Maker even when his own wife told him to curse God and die? What if, against all odds, against all the impossibilities that rise up against us, we chose to stubbornly cling to the promises of God, refusing to let go, defying the Enemy to break the faith we have in the One who rescues us?

C'mon, kids. I think it's time to put our stubbornness to good use. It's time to put up a fight for what we believe in.