As always, I'm a little behind in my "required reading" (no, I'm not in school, that's just how I tend to view anything I'm not reading for strict pleasure). This week I finished reading chapter two of How People Change by Tripp and Lane, and was struck by a sentence in the last paragraph. This is modified, but it basically says our identity is bound up by who we are in Christ.
That strikes me on so many levels. I was eight when my father became a pastor. One of the few negatives of being a PK was always hearing the phrase "Her Dad's a preacher." with all its connotations and implications. (And just for the record, those subtle nuances ran the gamut "Don't ask her out" to "she's going to be a trouble maker" to "she has no mind of her own".) It seemed people always tried to wrap my identity around my father's job. She makes straight A's? Well, you know, her Dad's a preacher. She has to do good. She plays the piano for the monthly nursing home service? Well, she likes things like that. Her Dad's a preacher. (Little did they know!) She doesn't do drugs? Well, you know, her Dad's a preacher. She doesn't drink? Well, you know, her Dad's a preacher. XXX drinks a lot? Well, you know, his Dad is a preacher. He's got to get away from the stress. XXX skipped church Sunday by hiding in the bathroom? Well, you know, his Dad is a preacher and it's just rebellion. It always aggravated me that everything the PKs in my school did was because of our Dad's occupation, or so people said. I always longed to turn around and scream at the top of my lungs, "Yeah, well so WHAT? Your Dad's a coal miner!" or a truck driver, or a postal worker, or the manager of the bank, or... I wanted to be my own person, whoever that was. Don't get me wrong. I love my parents. I think they've had a wonderful impact on my life, and I value the lessons and morals they've instilled in my soul. But there are also many things that I appreciate about my parents but have rejected for myself.
So there's a small part of me that chafes at my identity being totally wrapped up in one person or thing. I am so much more than that. Yes, that is sinful, human pride talking. And perhaps it was my pride that jumped up and down saying, "YES!" when the paragraph continued with the illustration that a person was a Christian first and foremost who just happened to struggle with depression, or their marriage, or...and the list went on. I am a Christian. That dictates a lot of the rest of me. While I am a southern woman who loves country music and southern food, my faith eliminates many country songs from my ipod and is currently in the process of modifying how I eat southern food. While I enjoy sedentary and solitary pleasures like reading and quilting and writing, my faith mandates that I temporarily abstain from those pleasures during part of my weekend to be around other people. (And don't think I haven't been tempted to bring my quilting stuff to church to sew while listening! I quilted while listening to sermon tapes when I was overseas and struggled for the longest kind of time with sitting still during church when I got back stateside!)
But I also think he's got a point about our identity being important for change (or for how we interact with other believers). If I see a young person who is emotionally hurting, financially struggling, and floundering on their feet, my reaction to them is truly based on how I label them. Do I label the person as a sibling in Christ who needs a fellow sibling's prodding but loving hand, or do I label the person as a messed up person who happens to be a believer? How I identify that person totally changes my reaction and interaction with them. It's not a fun thing to realize the very thing I chafed against during my teen years is the very thing I find myself so guilty of doing to others. Ultimately, it all boils down to the one person who changed our world and what we do with Him.
That strikes me on so many levels. I was eight when my father became a pastor. One of the few negatives of being a PK was always hearing the phrase "Her Dad's a preacher." with all its connotations and implications. (And just for the record, those subtle nuances ran the gamut "Don't ask her out" to "she's going to be a trouble maker" to "she has no mind of her own".) It seemed people always tried to wrap my identity around my father's job. She makes straight A's? Well, you know, her Dad's a preacher. She has to do good. She plays the piano for the monthly nursing home service? Well, she likes things like that. Her Dad's a preacher. (Little did they know!) She doesn't do drugs? Well, you know, her Dad's a preacher. She doesn't drink? Well, you know, her Dad's a preacher. XXX drinks a lot? Well, you know, his Dad is a preacher. He's got to get away from the stress. XXX skipped church Sunday by hiding in the bathroom? Well, you know, his Dad is a preacher and it's just rebellion. It always aggravated me that everything the PKs in my school did was because of our Dad's occupation, or so people said. I always longed to turn around and scream at the top of my lungs, "Yeah, well so WHAT? Your Dad's a coal miner!" or a truck driver, or a postal worker, or the manager of the bank, or... I wanted to be my own person, whoever that was. Don't get me wrong. I love my parents. I think they've had a wonderful impact on my life, and I value the lessons and morals they've instilled in my soul. But there are also many things that I appreciate about my parents but have rejected for myself.
So there's a small part of me that chafes at my identity being totally wrapped up in one person or thing. I am so much more than that. Yes, that is sinful, human pride talking. And perhaps it was my pride that jumped up and down saying, "YES!" when the paragraph continued with the illustration that a person was a Christian first and foremost who just happened to struggle with depression, or their marriage, or...and the list went on. I am a Christian. That dictates a lot of the rest of me. While I am a southern woman who loves country music and southern food, my faith eliminates many country songs from my ipod and is currently in the process of modifying how I eat southern food. While I enjoy sedentary and solitary pleasures like reading and quilting and writing, my faith mandates that I temporarily abstain from those pleasures during part of my weekend to be around other people. (And don't think I haven't been tempted to bring my quilting stuff to church to sew while listening! I quilted while listening to sermon tapes when I was overseas and struggled for the longest kind of time with sitting still during church when I got back stateside!)
But I also think he's got a point about our identity being important for change (or for how we interact with other believers). If I see a young person who is emotionally hurting, financially struggling, and floundering on their feet, my reaction to them is truly based on how I label them. Do I label the person as a sibling in Christ who needs a fellow sibling's prodding but loving hand, or do I label the person as a messed up person who happens to be a believer? How I identify that person totally changes my reaction and interaction with them. It's not a fun thing to realize the very thing I chafed against during my teen years is the very thing I find myself so guilty of doing to others. Ultimately, it all boils down to the one person who changed our world and what we do with Him.
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