IDENTITY

“If you are what you do… then who are you when you don’t do what you do anymore?”

– Joe Stowell

You can’t go very long after meeting someone new before you’re asked “what do you do for work?”  As a man in a notoriously hard-working and dutiful Midwestern town, this experience may be even more prevalent for me than some others.  In the average social interaction, people feel comfortable with simple, recognizable exchanges on this point.  I’m a teacher of middle school science at a charter school.  I’m an attorney focused on intellectual property.  And so on.  For many years, my answer was pretty straightforward – “I work for so-and-so, I’m in such and such a field.”

When I decided to quit my job earlier this year without knowing what my next one would be, I thought a little bit about how I would answer this “what do you do?” question once my employment had ended.  If I’m honest, I roughly figured that I’d try to make it subtly clear that I wasn’t fired, and that I was appropriately confident I’d be doing something awesome next, once I felt like getting back to work.  What I didn’t anticipate was how awkward these exchanges would become – since my answer to people suddenly became nebulous and unanticipated, and because I struggled to clearly articulate what I actually wanted to do next.  People’s faces and body language would register some combination of confusion, judgment, and pity.  Words of reply arrived in short stumbling bursts of truisms.  (For the record, I think the most appreciated reactions went something like “Well good for you, enjoy the time you have off.  I wish you luck, is there anything I can help you with?”)

All of this – the awkward interactions, my inability to pinpoint my goals, my eventual attempts to avoid these meetings altogether – shapes up to be the marker of a sort of identity crisis.  Up until now - I had meaningful work, I provided well for my family, I was of use to my friends and peers, I had areas of expertise, I associated with an organization, I was successful and achieved things.  And then, suddenly, I didn’t.  Yes, I chose this, but I think there’s an important reality at play here – namely, that until we’ve actually experienced some trial or loss firsthand (or at least walked alongside someone who has), it’s nearly impossible to have a real appreciation for its significance.  Or, said another way – you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.  In my head, I knew this identity thing was real… but I didn’t actually think I’d suffer with it much.

An identity crisis can be triggered in any number of ways – and remember, you might not know you placed such value on an identity until you don’t have it anymore.  Leaving a job, like me.  Losing a spouse or significant loved one.  The end of an athletic career.  Moving to a new place.  Failing at an endeavor you value highly.  Recognizing acutely the effects of aging.  Giving up a habit or vice.  Asking for help when you really don’t want to.  Facing mental health issues.  Hurting someone you love.  Or even something so subtle as that tiny bully of a voice in your head getting a foothold, saying “you’re not a very good friend/mother/husband/golfer/etc.”

Often, it takes something jarring to occur, to shake the reality and truth we’ve crafted in our minds about who we are and how good we are.  It’s in our nature, I believe, to need an identity and a purpose.  We want to be known and valued by others.  We seem to crave a degree of definition and order about who we are in the world and what we’re supposed to do here, and we meticulously craft this order without knowing it.

If you spent a few minutes thinking about it, you could probably come up with a handful of identities that you associate yourself with.  Think about the way you introduce yourself to others and answer the “what do you do?” question.  Think about what you take pride in, or what you’re most afraid of losing.  Think about what you spend the most time thinking about. 

Associating ourselves with an identity is natural and unavoidable, so the real issue then is – what happens when our identity is stripped away?  How do we respond?  I would argue that no identity is safe, and that at some point if we’re honest and paying attention, we’ll come face to face with the reality that we’re not who we say we are, or like to think we are.  We age, we fail, people fail us, we change, circumstances change.

The danger, when an identity crisis comes upon us, is that we enter a cycle whereby we unthinkingly hop over to the next identity that feels more secure, or desirable, or attainable.  I’m no longer the all-conference tennis player, okay, but I can channel my energy and drive into building a great consulting practice.  My business isn’t generating enough income to pay the bills, okay, I’ll take up a political cause and pour my life’s work into that. 

I believe this cycle is inevitable, and ultimately unsatisfying. It’s staying forever just one step ahead of the law… in this case the law being – we’re flawed human beings who can’t live up to our own standards of achievement and decorum.  We’re remarkably good at pretending that we can, but boy is it tiring!  Or we gradually relax our standards and actually end up glorifying our failures, which feels soulless and depressing.  Or we spend copious energies protecting and promoting ourselves in our preferred identity, and before long folks are just sick of our act.

When it comes to this work of maintaining our identities, I’ve found rest in the truth of the Bible, which tells me my identity is primarily and most significantly as a son of God, created in His image, loved by Him, an heir to Heaven with Jesus Christ, and a servant of the one true King.  I suspect that’s either sounding to you like an inscrutable foreign language, or it’s sounding like a breath of fresh air and freedom.  I hope and pray it’s the latter.  Because when you really know and have experienced the love, goodness, faithfulness, power, and generosity of God – then you can relax and step away from the striving, the attaining, the self-protection and self-promotion.  Identifying with Him is an adoption into His family, bought by Jesus on the cross and therefore unshakeable (Romans 8:38-39).  I’m a son, and I have a good Father who knows me, knows what I need, and delights to give good gifts to his children.  He’s all-wise and all-powerful and works all circumstances (even the unpleasant ones!) for the good of those who trust Him.

For me, in this present season, it means I’m learning to trust God’s sovereignty and his plan for my career, letting Him lead me where I should go.  It’s allowed me to be myself in conversations and interviews, and not have to pretend that I’m something more or less than I am.  I am seeing how it takes pressure off me to find the perfect job or the opportunity that will look most impressive, or make this decision to leave be “worthwhile.”  It has pointed me to my need for Jesus and my inability to make all the details of my own life, or my family’s life, work out according to some grandiose plan.

We still, rightfully, have identities and things that we take pride in, and things we want to achieve.  But when these temporal identities become secondary to the ultimate and unshakeable reality of our status as God’s children, we’re freed up.  We can daily commit ourselves and our work to Him – your will be done, Lord – and freely go explore, experiment, contribute, and spend ourselves for the good of others.  You can be a good father because you’re a beloved son.  You can be joyful as a widow because you have the love of Christ.  You are lovely because you are designed by God.  You can be a faithful leader because you’re a child of the servant King.

And when we fail, or the façade gets stripped away, or He asks us to relinquish a piece of ourselves, we can be gracious and have confidence that there is no condemnation for those who are in His family.  More than that, our shortcomings will be redeemed and used for His good purposes.

It’s not “you are what you do,” but rather “you are who you are” – and you are beloved children, chosen and bought by Him, adopted into His family forever.