Anchored Identity
-Introduction-
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through Him all things were made; without Him nothing was made that has been made. In Him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind.” – John 1:1-4, NIV
In the beginning.
In the beginning was the word.
In our beginning, in your beginning, it probably started with a cry. With a whisper of a name.
Then the whir of hospital monitors and medical tools, and the voice of a million strangers bombarded you. You were whisked off; taken from the comfort of the warm home you’d grown to love the last nine months.
Yet through the whir, maybe your little ears heard voices in the background. They were familiar. You’d come to love them as you’d developed in your home. As you were being poked and prodded and cleaned, you heard the comforting voices and clung to them, until you were finally placed to rest on the familiar heartbeat of your home.
Then the familiar voice, this heartbeat’s voice, said a name over you again. Your identity.
The one thing that would stick with you.
You weren’t prepared for the others though. The identities given through the noise. More of a blur.
More confusion.
More judgement.
More of a cruel world.
What would it be like to be brand new again? What would it be like to have a fresh start? To have a name spoken over you that would be your identity, without judgement. With love, and joy.
It couldn’t be possible, could it?
The labels the world pressed on you had become your identity, along with your name.
Lost. Confused. Unloved. Unwanted. Orphan. Homeless. Sick. Anxious. Mourner. Broken. Fearful. Unknown. Condemned. Criminal. Liar. Greedy. Sinner.
The noise. The identities.
The identities come like one wave after the next, crashing against you and pushing you down to the depths. You feel like you are drowning.
But then, something solid comes within your grasp. Your saltwater-blurred eyes open to find the barnacle encrusted steel piece stuck in the floor of the sea. You grab hold of the line attached to it and follow it with your eyes through the muck and mire. There’s a light at the end. So you hold onto your anchor, and follow it to the light.
Because the identities the world pressed on you were suffocating, but this anchor – there’s a light at the end. There are the promises of newness. Of new identities. Of promises of hope and a future and a glorious eternity if only you cling to this Anchor.
“So from now on we regard no one from a worldly point of view. Though we once regarded Christ in this way, we do so no longer. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” – 2 Corinthians 5:16-17, NIV
Anchored Identity 