It’s About Who We Are, Not What We Do
Living just four blocks down the street from my best friend made it easy to share clothes, secrets, and families. We could be found within a close radius of her backyard pool most summer days. The rhythm of our summer days revolved around Gretchen’s dad’s third-shift work schedule. During the morning hours, the house needed to stay dark and quiet, so we picked peppermint leaves to chew, painted our nails, and read books. Not long after lunchtime, Mr. Liddell would wake up, which paved the way for our favorite summer activity: synchronized swimming routines.
We practiced and laughed until we felt ready for an audience. Gretchen’s dad always stopped mid-project to be amazed by our mildly in sync pool programs. He clapped and went back to work while we kept playing. His presence was as steady as the summer sun. He wasn’t merely my friend’s dad; he was a comfortable, expected constant in my life.
The familiarity born by all those shared moments made his cancer diagnosis particularly awful for me. I was desperate to be as real a best friend in the halls of the hospital as I had been poolside for my friend who was losing her dad. My seventeen-year-old self struggled to accomplish that while bearing the weight of my own goodbye to the man who felt like a second father to me.
My mom saw cracks forming in me and called in the support of my beloved youth pastor, who now lived hours away. He spoke words that enabled me to square my shoulders and breathe new life into my spirit:
“I know you can bear this because I’ve watched you long enough to know that you are just like your dad—a pillar of strength.”
Those words brought sweet relief. I wanted desperately to do something for my friend but thought I couldn’t. My youth pastor called out my true identity. He saw who I was because of whose daughter I was and told me I was already enough. The truth is, I am John Smith’s daughter. He is a pillar of strength to those around him, and I carry a similar strength because I’m connected to him. Living into that already accomplished reality was much easier than my list of imagined requirements.
Being a child of God is the same and so much more. It’s the process of living up to who we already are, not a list of things to do. It’s about learning to rest in what’s been done and trusting ourselves to the flow of God’s work rather than striving to control outcomes. The words Jesus spoke on the cross echo in our lives. “It is finished” means the outcomes are already decided, our position is secure, and there’s nothing more to earn. Our primary and only work is to live into the identity we’ve been given.
This list just begins to scratch the surface of the things that are now true of us because we carry the label Child of God.
- I am deeply loved by God. “In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another” (1 John 4:9-11 ESV). I am now free from the fear of punishment because I understand how fully forgiven I am. I am able to offer patience and kindness to others.
- I am fully pleasing to God. “Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ” (Rom. 5:1 ESV). Jesus pleased God for me and made me God’s child. Now it’s impossible for me to gain more favor from God or lose his favor based on my performance. I no longer need to fear failure or be in bondage to perfectionism.
- I am totally acceptable and accepted by God. “He has now reconciled in his body of flesh by his death, in order to present you holy and blameless and above reproach before him, if indeed you continue in the faith, stable and steadfast, not shifting from the hope of the gospel that you heard, which has been proclaimed in all creation under heaven, and of which I, Paul, became a minister” (Col. 1:21-22 ESV). I no longer have to fear rejection or be held captive by the compulsion to avoid criticism. I am able to love and forgive others. It’s safe to be vulnerable, open, and relaxed around others because my position is secure.
- I am a new creation, complete in Christ. “And you have been filled in him, who is the head of all rule and authority” (Col. 2:10 ESV). I have self-confidence that comes from Christ, which brings me joy, courage, peace, and a desire to grow in Christ. Shame has lost its power over me.
During those days in the hospital with my friend, my emotions were too ragged for me to know what to do. All I could do was be John Smith’s daughter. It was all I needed to do. My connection to him gave me a sense of strength to share. My list of proper actions became irrelevant as I remembered who I was. I was able to be a good friend and say my own goodbyes secure in my identity.
In a more profound way, learning to live in the consciousness of who we are as God’s children and co-heirs with Christ brings peace and hope to our lives. The list of demands we’ve placed on ourselves becomes irrelevant as we remember who we are. Our identity gives us the ability to share peace and hope with the world.
lives a life that is all about her people. She’s convinced that being Mrs. to one and Mommy to eight will be her most significant way to serve Jesus. She wants to use her life to cheer on and coach the women around her. She is on staff with Project Hopeful working to give a hand up to moms in poverty in Ethiopia. You can find her at loriflorida.com.
Photograph © Klara Kulikova, used with permission
