#saymyname
(I was recently asked to write a guest blog post for a dear and incredibly talented friend of mine, Jacob Howard. I very much enjoy his blog and it was an honor to be asked to participate ! For more on his blog – that everyone should read – go to hashtagfairytales.com)
When did December become a giant migraine? As a kid, I always remember being so excited for December: school was coming to an imminent end and I was about to catch my parents sneak in presents from the mall (as I kept my fingers crossed in hopes they’d walk in with a KB Toy Store bag. Are they still even around? #recession) and pretend not to see them. And now what does December look like? A headache attempting to navigate presents that I still feel ethically okay with buying (which becomes more and more difficult every year), final papers, busier work schedule, etc… As with every end to every year, I’ve found myself doing a solid amount of reflecting over what a hectic year this has been, and asking the overarching, life-altering questions about the year. What has it looked like? Where has G-d shown up? Is it time to get my car’s oil changed? All very pressing questions.
One of the more prominent things I noticed as I climbed up the proverbial ladder of higher academia, this year was my realization as to how much I was not only loving the scholarly theological work I was doing, but I was becoming inextricably intertwined within it. Soon enough, a B- on a paper was not just a (hopefully) objective criticism of a research paper; it became a litmus test to my intelligence, preparedness, and ultimately my very person. I worked away happily for months researching, reading, and learning (okay, sometimes crying) in order to present my best work possible to the awaiting professor. It was difficult, but it was a joy. So how did I wind up crying for hours after receiving a “B-“ on my Augustine paper this summer? How did my soul become so weighed because of a letter grade? I could barely process the encouraging comments left by my professor because all I saw was a “B-.” The “A” was not there. I had expected it and I had failed.
Failure is a funny thing. I have never been good at it and I never know what to do with myself when confronted with it (you know, other than the aforementioned crying and reaching for the covers to hide underneath for just about an hour past #forever). Though I didn’t realize it at the time, what had occurred was that I was so wrapped up in finding validation through my school work that I had completely forgotten who I was besides that.
As a matter of fact, I am not a theologian. I am not an academic. I am not a student. I am not my job. I am not what pays my rent. I am a part of these things sure, but that is neither where I begin nor where I end. What I actually am is a human person that is loved by G-d and by the people I have been blessed to be called to. It is within this identity, knowing that I am a whole member of the Kingdom of G-d; within this identity that I live. We are invested in the real, true, and good work of exposing the already present (and arriving) Kingdom in our neighborhood. #nowandnotyet
It is these people that get to remind me of who I am when I forget—the people of the Kingdom. And I forget all the time. I forget that I am loved unconditionally, that I can fail and it’ll be more than fine (wasn’t there a #Switchfoot song about this?), and that mostly – I’m part of a much bigger work – often a work that I am wholly unaware of. As my friend @justinmcroberts said the other night, “There is a responsibility that comes with knowing who you are.” And sometimes we need that reminder from the people that know us the best and love us the most (mostly because they can weave through your #BS—and #ohmygoodness there is so much of it—and get to what really needs to be talked about).
I honestly don’t know how people survive without a strong family and church community around them. I am quite often completely confused as to what’s going on in my life (To apply for a doctorate program or not? What is G-d calling me to do? What should I have for lunch?). If it wasn’t for those friends at my church, (appropriately called #Shelter) I would probably live in a mountain somewhere attempting to hunt food with my bare hands (not too much of an exaggeration; but who am I kidding? I’d die within 2 hours) in order to get away from the “cruel, cruel world.” My people have kept me grounded more times than I could count. Whether it be one of my weekly existential crises or broken heart, I look back to who I have been told I am and walk freely within that identity (or… attempt to.)
So often, we throw ourselves out there in hopes of being told who we are: beautiful, unique, artistic, talented, intelligent, revolutionary, etc… and often we are crushed because we give perfect strangers (professors, cute guy/girl at the coffee shop, etc…) the incredible honor of informing us of our identity—we give them the incredible privilege of telling us our name. People shape us whether we know it or not. However, how transformative would it be to have an intentional community that we can go to for the TRUTH of who we are? I believe this is the heart of #discipleship. Jesus called his disciples by name, often giving them a whole new name, thus completely altering their identity, how they saw themselves, and the effect they had on the world around them. What if we found our identity in the same way and were named by the One whose name we can’t quite pin down.
People walk differently; see differently, once they really know who they are. The insecurities somehow fall away. All of those things that were so world shattering for so long (the bad grade, the lost job) are all of a sudden not so world shattering. You find that nothing much can touch you because you’re grounded in an unshakable truth that you don’t quite grasp, but maybe don’t need to fathom anyway (ironically, often this kind of truth often destabilizes everything else. However, that’s a blog post for another day). But when you find yourself in this place of truth, you look at the world knowing that their misguided labels of who you are don’t matter anymore; you’ve told your people to #saymyname and it is this identity that ultimately shapes your life.
As the holiday season ramps up and the end of the year 2011 reflections begin, may we resist defining ourselves by our culturally constructed societal role/paycheck and begin to ask the question, “What kind of person am I, who do I want to be, and how do I get to that place?” And with much guidance from the Spirit and wiser people, we hopefully begin to deconstruct and reconstruct who we want to be over and over and over again.
