A Case of Misplaced Identity

Free illustration courtesy of Pixabay.com.

“Single mom” – Roughly eighteen months ago, this is the title that I chose to take on.

Although it wouldn’t have been wise, I could have chosen to not take it on. I was not physically abandoned, as some women have been. It was my choice – my choice to say “no more” and walk away. I’ve never regretted that decision, only that I was put in the situation where that decision was necessary.

From Zero to Hero
However, even though it was my choice, it was not a title that I wanted. Those first several months, I cried every day. “God, I can’t do this! This isn’t what I dreamed my life would be like. God, I don’t want to be a single mom!”  

It became an identity that I never wanted. Whenever I’d introduce myself, I’d cringe as I said, “I’m a single mom,” always fearful of what the other person must think. And that was wrong.

But, as the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, I began to accept it. Perhaps, being a single parent wasn’t so bad – it does have its perks. And, for the most part, people were kind and gracious and encouraging.

Then, one day, the identity that I’d never wanted turned into a badge of honor. “Hi, I’m a single mom, also known as the next Marvel superhero! I can do it all, without the help of a husband.” That was wrong too.

Mistaken Identity
You see, I’d once again tied my identity to my circumstance.

It’s so easy to do – student, girlfriend, daughter, fiancé, professional, friend, wife, mom, stay-at-home mom, working mom, single mom, divorcee, church member. It’s just second nature to tie who we are and our worth to what we do or the roles we fill. None of those titles are bad or harmful…until you adopt them as your identity.

And, it’s not just single moms who struggle with this. It’s the new mom who feels like a failure because of her decision to return to work. Or the young lady who needs to have a man in order to feel fulfilled and beautiful. It’s human nature. But, it’s wrong.

My identity is what would remain if everything in my life disappeared. No more school? No more student. No more relationships? No more daughter, wife, mom. No more church? No more church member. No more job? No more professional.

The Real Me
The only thing remaining – my one, true identity – would be my relationship with God. My identity in Christ. Who and what God says I am…

Adopted child of God. Chosen. Accepted. Redeemed. Overcomer. Beautiful. Loved. Worth dying for!

I still struggle with remembering who I really am, but I’m learning. It’s one thing to know it, and an entirely different thing to act in that knowledge. But I’m getting there.

I’ve accepted and am even enjoying my current role as a single mom. In the future, my roles will change. I won’t always (fingers-crossed) be a student. My professional life will evolve. I might even, someday, take on the title of wife or mom to more children.

However, the first thing that I want to be identified as is a Follower of Christ, because He isn’t worried about what others think and He truly is the ultimate superhero!

The Scarlett D

Free illustration courtesy of Pixabay.com.

Have you ever felt marked? Like a giant symbol was tattooed on your forehead, forever identifying you as a failure? Informing everyone of your imperfections, your flaws, your past.

That’s what it feels like to be a divorced a woman in the Church today.

Imagine my surprise when I – the almost-lifetime Christian, homeschooled, proverbial “good girl” – discovered that there were, in fact, two unforgivable sins. Certainly, never submitting your life and failing to recognize Christ as your Savior was the first. But, there was, apparently, a second one I never knew about.

(For those new to or unfamiliar with Christianity, there is only ONE “unforgivable” sin – the first one I listed. I don’t want my sarcasm to mislead you!)

Divorce.
At the sound of that two-syllable word, grace seemed disappeared. Logic went out the window. Kindness, empathy, and humility were no where to be found. What a shock it was to this young woman, who’d been through so much already, to see this side of the Church.

Maybe I just misunderstood some of those people who hurt me. Perhaps I projected my own identity crisis onto them and their actions. But at least some of what I perceived was real.

Suddenly, I saw my fellow believers – Christ’s Body – through new eyes. The eyes of the young prostitute who’s had too many abortions to count. The eyes of the gay and lesbian community. The eyes of the atheist who’s only known scorn, judgment, and condemnation. No wonder they either shrink back or lash out when they come in contact with Christians.

The pain and rejection from this hurt almost as badly the collapse of my marriage. It shook me to my core. Had I believed in a lie all this time? Was this how I’d treated others before my own crisis? Was this how Christ saw me?

Beautiful Grace.
But, in the crumbling of everything I knew, or thought I knew, Christ was the one thing I wouldn’t, couldn’t, let go of. And, praise Him, He didn’t let go of me.

“But He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Cor. 12:9)

And, NO,  friends, He indeed did NOT see me that way.

When some saw DAMAGED; He saw BEAUTY.

When some saw BROKEN; He saw REDEEMED.

When some saw SULLIED; He saw HIS BELOVED.

And, there were still those believers – gracious members of Christ’s Church – that saw me through Christ’s eyes too. In fact, the further I travel along this road, I’m discovering that there are many, many Christians who respond as Christ responds.

There are still scars. There were still relationships damaged and lost. There are still times that I walk through my wonderful church with my little girl and feel branded. But I’m learning that the Scarlett D I once thought would forever be emblazoned across my chest doesn’t define me. 

It’s not my identity. It’s not what Christ sees. And, it’s not what His faithful followers see either.