Redefined
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When’s the last time someone asked you outright, “Who are you?” That’s probably a rare occasion, especially since so many of us travel mostly in the familiar circles of family and friends. But imagine the question being asked. How would you answer? It depends, right? My tendency might be to say where I’m from, maybe what I do. Then, depending on how much time I have, and how comfortable I am, I might get a little more personal and detailed.
The thing is, we are usually defined from the outside-in. Our world looks at our appearance, our age, our status, our address, our level of education, our wealth, our career, our athletic prowess, what we drive, whether we keep chickens or not, important things like that. This kind of definition is okay as far as it goes—it just doesn’t go very far. And if we find ourselves buying into such notions, we can end up deeply insecure and anxious over what are basically superficial judgments.
Since our nation has been on lockdown for this virus, our lives have taken an abrupt shift. Many of the things we once did so casually we find hard to do. Many cannot work, shop, root for their favorite sports teams.
College campuses have shut down, the highways are traffic-free mostly. Your 401k retirement plan has tanked. In other words, with the possible exception of raising chickens, now’s the perfect time for us to let go of all the usual ways of seeing ourselves. Now might be our season to deepen out our own self-images, to take a close look at and absorb who we truly are in Christ, from the inside-out.
Our passages for today give good guidance with how we might see ourselves. In the first story, Samuel goes to Bethlehem to choose and anoint a king. Jethro parades all his older, stronger sons before Samuel, but these obvious choices are not God’s choice. God surprises everyone by choosing David, the youngest, the lowly one out tending sheep at the time. God chooses the afterthought, the overlooked.
In our Gospel Jesus heals a blind man. In that day and age blindness marked one as unclean, as a sinner. This man had been largely defined by both the impairment of his blindness and the stigma which his church and society placed on his blindness. Jesus bucks all these definitions, heals him, and sets him free.
In what ways do you feel overlooked? In what ways do you feel judged by your given limits, physical, emotional, or otherwise, that are beyond your control or choice? In what ways are you tempted to allow such instances to define you?
We all have our strengths and weaknesses. We are all judged by prevailing cultural norms. We all tend quite naturally to allow ourselves to be defined by these. But when we do, we sell ourselves short. Our identity is rooted in God’s unconditional love. We can, through prayer, worship, and service, live more fully into how God identifies us. We can, through self-compassion and compassion for others, look beyond the surface and see ourselves and others as God does. We can choose to “play to an audience of One,” the only One who truly sees our hearts, who loves us through and through. For our true identity, the one that God sees, is hidden in Christ— not thrust upon us by others or our life situations. The real question may not be “Who am I?” but “Whose am I?”
German pastor and theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer spent his last days in prison before being hung by the Nazis for his opposition to Hitler. In his isolation he did the best he could to pray, serve, and encourage. He struggled with his own faith. I’d like to conclude this message with a prayer/poem written by Bonhoeffer. Our Lenten Class read it the last time we were together. I share it with you in closing. May it be a real encouragement during our own temporary isolation from loved ones and friends.
Who Am I?
Who am I? They often tell me, I come out of my cell
Calmly, cheerfully, resolutely, Like a lord from his palace.
Who am I? They often tell me, I used to speak to my warders Freely and friendly and clearly,
As though it were mine to command. Who am I? They also tell me,
I carried the days of misfortune Equably, smilingly, proudly, like one who is used to winning.
Am I really then what others say of me? Or am I only what I know of myself?
Restless, melancholic, and ill, like a caged bird, Struggling for breath, as if hands clasped my throat, Hungry for colors, for flowers, for the songs of birds, Thirsty for friendly words and human kindness, Shaking with anger at fate and at the smallest sickness, Trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
Tired and empty at praying, at thinking, at doing, Drained and ready to say goodbye to it all.
Who am I? This or the other?
Am I one person today and another tomorrow? Am I both at once? In front of others, a hypocrite, And to myself a contemptible, fretting weakling? Or is something still in me like a battered army, running in disorder from a victory already achieved? Who am I? These lonely questions mock me.
Whoever I am, You know me, I am yours, O God Amen.