I heard you say, “I’m not sure who I am anymore,” and I understood.
Crises and even natural changes did that to me too. It may happen again.
Sometimes who I am requires very little analysis.
But there are also times when everything seems to hang on the answer.
In my childhood search for self, I took my cues from those around me.
The adults in my life told me I had potential: I was bright. I had talent. I was responsible. For better and for worse, I measured myself by their standards.
Who I was — who I might become — was exciting.
As a wife and mom of five, doing ministry in a sun-scorched land, my duties often swallowed my identity.
I was the one who made the meals, wiped up spills, changed the diapers, woke to feed babies. I rode a four-wheeler, I started the generator, I shopped the open market,
I fed hungry people. I nurtured, I loved, I served, sometimes forgetting that I was not the “living water” or “bread of life.”
Who I was exhausted me.
When our Red Sea parted, and God’s dry path led us to the States, I faced a new crisis.
I was no longer a missionary; a server; a giver. Rather, I was broken. I was displaced, disoriented, and fragile. I didn’t recognize myself.
Who I was plunged me into fear and confusion.
Today, I am grateful; still on the journey, sometimes overwhelmed, but trusting and growing.
I am a recipient of unmerited favor. I see God’s work, inside and out. Sometimes my callings seem too big; other times too small.
But the truth is, who I am has never changed.
Ever since I trusted Him thirty-one years ago, who I was… was His child.
From that point on, God has not measured me. He already knows I fall short.
My strivings, my abilities, my reputation, my “goodness” could never be enough; could never define me.
While I forget… while I measure myself by other’s perceptions, my roles, my output, the fact remains — that’s not who I am.
I am found in Him.
Who am I?
I am a flower quickly fading,
Here today and gone tomorrow.
A wave tossed in the ocean.
A vapor in the wind.
Still You hear me when I’m calling.
Lord, You catch me when I’m falling.
And You’ve told me who I am.
I am Yours.
from Who Am I by Casting Crowns