Four Identity Markers that are Mine in Christ

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“Identity” is much on the minds of the public these days: sexual identity, ethnic identity, identity politics… Our culture offers an impressive array of resources to help each of us answer some of life’s deep, life-defining questions: “Who am I?” and “Where do I fit in?”

For many people, these questions are a source of great anxiety. Our Director of Women’s Ministries, Lee-Ann McKay, may be the most outgoing person I have ever met. That is why I was astonished when she told me once that she was painfully shy as a little girl, even hiding her mouth behind her hands when she was in public.

So I asked her: how could such a shy young child grow up to be such an outgoing adult? She explained that two things changed her outlook about herself and her place in the world:

A psychological insight: Someone pointed out to her that people weren’t thinking about her as much as she thought they were. Most people are dealing with their own issues and don’t even notice others.

A theological insight: She told me that she began to rehearse the Scriptures that reminded her of who she is in Christ, and slowly, over time, those truths began to sink in and change the way she viewed herself, and she was delivered from her painful shyness and self-consciousness.

I think she’s onto something. Reminding myself who I am in Christ is essential for any Christ-follower, especially in these days of confused identity. In the glorious opening lines of his letter to the church in Ephesus, Paul outlines several identity markers that are mine in Christ:

1. God loved me and chose me: When I was young, we boys would engage in a playground ritual that surely shaped our self-image. To determine teams in a playground contest, self-appointed “captains” would take turns choosing their teammates. I remember feeling bad for the boys chosen last, the ones no one wanted on their teams: too slow, not coordinated, too small.

But Paul reminds me that in Christ, God chose me. He puts it this way: God “chose us in [Christ] before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him” (Eph. 1:4).

God chose me, but He didn’t choose me for the same reasons those team captains chose their teammates; He didn’t choose me because He saw potential in me as a contributor to His cause. He chose me out of sheer grace, not because of potential He saw in my future. He chose me simply because, for some unfathomable reason, He loved me.

2. God adopted me. This truly is a wondrous thing, that the Holy One of Israel would choose to treat a fugitive and rebel like me this way: He “predestined [me] for adoption to himself… through Jesus Christ (Eph. 1:5).”

Let’s fill in the blank: “If you’re not ____, you’re not paying attention.” When you think about the fact that you have a place at the table in God’s house, if you’re not astonished and filled with wonder and gratitude, you’re not paying attention. In fact, I’m convinced the main emotional response of everyone in the New Jerusalem will be sheer astonishment: we will be the Community of the Astonished, amazed that we are there among God’s holy ones, adopted members of His family.

3. God forgave my transgressions. It is silly and short-sighted for me to imagine that God could simply overlook my rebellion. Mine was a crushing debt that I could never hope to pay, and it cost God a great deal – the agony and blood and disgrace of Jesus’ death – to pay that debt for me.

Paul says it this way: “In [Christ] we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace, which he lavished upon us” (Eph. 1:7-8). And that word “lavished” says it all: nothing short of a lavish application of God’s grace would suffice to deal with my sin.

4. God has given me a heritage. I have often told people that when we had our first child, my life turned from two dimensions to three. Somehow, the birth of our daughter brought forcefully to my attention the fact that I was part of a long line extending back through the generations. I suddenly came to realize that I had received a heritage from my parents and grandparents, and I would pass on a heritage to my own children and their children.

So it’s not just that I am part of God’s family in the present, I am part of the family of God that extends back for thousands of years and forward into eternity. In Christ, I have a place in His heritage, the grand company of God’s beloved people that stretches out over the millennia.

Here’s how Paul puts it: “In [Christ] we have obtained an inheritance…. In him you were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit, who is the guarantee of our inheritance until we acquire possession of it, to the praise of his glory” (Eph. 1:11-14).

I’m so glad to see words like “sealed” and “guarantee” in Paul’s description of my heritage. By His Spirit, God has taken on the responsibility of seeing to it that the restoration project He has begun in me will be carried out to completion. He is fitting me for heaven, and He will see to it that the job gets done.

Regardless of what my culture says about me, no matter what people around me think about me, despite what my own soiled conscience says about me, I must repeatedly remind myself of my deepest identity, deeper than my identity as a husband, as a father, as an American – deeper than any other source of identity. With Paul I must say to myself, over and over again: “God loved me and chose me, He adopted me, He forgave me, and He has made me part of His heritage.”

That’s an identity where I can flourish.

Persevere.