Who God Says You Are
Labels are powerful. Not the kind that says, “Hello, my name is ________”. The kind that we adopt over our lifetime. The kind that we assign to ourselves or willingly accept from others. How we choose to identify ourselves has the power to decide who we become, how we interact with others, how we love, how we behave. It shouldn’t be something that we take lightly though we often take on labels without a second thought. So let’s give them a second thought.
Often, our labels can feel so appropriate. They line up perfectly with so many things that have happened over time to us. Again and again, we see evidence of these labels being true. At the start of this book, I was a woman who thought that maybe someday I might finish this book and maybe, possibly, someone would sorta, kinda, read it and hopefully spark a little difference. But that’s not true. My past told me that it was. But when we accept Jesus as our Lord and Savior, we are a new creation, born again, made new—whatever language tickles your fancy. We are no longer a sum of our past decisions and circumstances.
However, when we become new, most of us don’t evaluate old labels. We try to navigate this new life with our old identity. God tells us to shrug it off like a tattered old coat. It no longer serves us. He’s made us a beautiful new one to wear. We should give our labels a second thought. God wants you to. He lovingly reminds us of moments when we assumed incorrect labels to expose them so we can tear them away and replace them with truth.
God did this for me recently as I went for a drive. I had the windows down and the music a bit too loud. I decided to let Apple music take the wheel and play songs that weren’t on my phone. Eventually, Linkin Park came on. In typical Elisa fashion, I belted the lyrics that I remembered and mumbled over the ones I didn’t. And then, though my body remained driving the car on this warm day, my mind stood in a doorway looking into a dingy bedroom belonging to some pre-teen boy.
I really enjoy Linkin Park’s music, and the first time that I ever heard them was in this memory that I found my mind standing in. This pre-teen boy happened to be my 11-year-old self’s crush. His parents, friends with my dad at the time, invited us all over for dinner. He tolerated me at best. Not wanting to intrude on his space, I simply stayed leaning against the door frame of his bedroom. I spent most of the time trying to figure out a way to stand that made me look cool, but when you have knobby knees, a boy’s haircut, and your older brother’s hand-me-downs, it’s virtually impossible.
Linkin Park coming over my car’s speakers brought me back to a moment when I assumed a label. A label I willingly placed into a great patchwork of lies about myself. At 11 years old, I learned that I was invisible. Now this didn’t happen from this moment alone. There were several supporting moments that reinforced this label and made it one of the most difficult to remove. So difficult that I spent the better part of my life trying to earn people’s attention—trying to not be invisible.
Over the years, I added more labels as we all do. I had so many that I quilted a blanket from them. A blanket that I carried with me at all times like Linus from the Peanuts cartoon. I clung to it for comfort. I knew how to operate within these labels. If I acted invisible, then when I wasn’t seen, it wouldn’t hurt as bad. If I remembered who I was according to these labels and acted appropriately, they kept me safe.
Fear can’t control us so it chooses to operate in illusions. It wants to trick us into believing that the things of God aren’t safe. Fear has gotten us this far, so why shouldn’t we listen to it? Up until now, our life experiences have taught us that Fear can be trusted. Past seasons have proven that Fear is our protector. We knit together our security blanket from insecurity—our insecurities. And we don’t question it because it offers us what we want—comfort. We just want to turn off the pain.
By God’s grace, we have a choice. We can continue to look to this insecure security blanket, or we can knit together a new one made of the truth. We can accept what God says about us or we can accept the labels provided by others, our childhood experiences, our insecurities, and our current circumstances. Our labels can either fuel our fears or fuel our faith.
Our labels can either fuel our fears or fuel our faith.
God’s Word is our seam ripper. When we hold our labels up to His Truth, we can slowly rip the threads holding those labels in place. We can rip away different patches in this elaborate quilt we’ve made over a lifetime. God enables us to replace each mislabeled patch with His Truth. Invisible replaced with Fully Seen. And again, we tear away another and replace it. One at a time. In the end, we still have a beautiful quilt made for safety and security. One of protection. But this time, it’s made from Truth.
The blanket finally serves its intended purpose. It’s a blanket we can cozy up with on a cold morning. It keeps us warm and safe from the chilled air. We can pull this blanket over our heads and remain safe from the boogeymen that pop out at night. Fear feels like it provides these things for us. If we behave like we’re invisible, it doesn't hurt as much when we are treated like we’re invisible. But this security and protection is fake. It’s a counterfeit. It’s an illusion.
For too long, I allowed my labels, Fear, to dictate my reality. I believed that I had nothing of benefit to say. And even if I did, no one would listen. Fear kept me quiet—complacent. Not speaking, not sharing Jesus, felt safe. No one could call me out for incorrect theology or a misinterpretation of the Word. Proverbs tells us that a fool who keeps her mouth shut seems wise. I certainly didn’t want to be labeled a fool on top of everything else. This protection and safety that Fear offered me was actually chains keeping me bound. The walls that Fear told me to build only kept me from much needed relationships that could have pulled me out and into God’s grace. Fear isolated me. Fear tricked me. If we never go beyond our fear cells or allow anyone in, we can survive, but we definitely will never thrive. We need relationships.
