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| Mural by: BMCC Arts Camp 2015 |
Recently my husband and I took a trip to meet our future
daughter-in-law (she is lovely, by the way) and to visit dear friends who moved
to Georgia several years ago. On our return journey we had an experience I
would rather not repeat. I was the one who booked all of our flights and least
expensive (aka cheap) was high priority. Now I must explain that neither my
husband nor I have done a lot of flying in the U.S. We do not know which
airports are great and which ones are nightmares. Well, now we know one that is
less than stellar! We were flying from Atlanta to our home town via Detroit. We
arrive in Detroit, exhausted and hungry. We do what every traveler does when
they arrive at a new airport. We get out our boarding pass and check the boards
for our connecting flight. It wasn't there. We check the terminal map to find
our concourse. It wasn't there. We begin to look around in that "you've
got to be kidding me" way, trying to determine where we needed to be. Out
of the corner of my eye I spied an information desk. Bingo! Holding up my
boarding pass and pointing to our needed gate I ask, in a voice tinged with
exhausted desperation, "Where is concourse D?" After having been
informed that we must catch a terminal to terminal shuttle, being given less
than helpful directions to said shuttle, my husband and I found ourselves
waiting on a curb for the shuttle that would take us to our assigned terminal.
As the shuttle is making its way on streets with more potholes than I thought
possible, I have a realization. . . we will have to go through security again.
Don't get me wrong, I am grateful for our security system at our airports but
having to go through security more than once in the same day is some kind of
cruel joke. We stand in line, holding our boarding pass and I.D. The closer I
get to the TSA agent at the podium the more nervous I get. She is pretty firm
and seems like maybe her day has not gone well. I wait by the sign as directed
as she checks in the person in front of me. She calls me forward and I
dutifully hand her my boarding pass and my I.D. She looks at my paperwork and
then asks, "Kathryn, who is traveling with you today?" Bewildered, I
answer while pointing behind me, "My husband." In our exhaustion and frenzy
of finding our mysterious concourse, I had grabbed his boarding pass which was
now in the hands of this TSA agent with my I.D. The problem of course was that
they didn't match! She very graciously checked us both in, much to my relief.
No reprimand or frustrated look, just grace.
There are many things that identify us as individuals - our
name; our gender; our age; our physical features; our relationship status; our
job title; our past; our present; our passport or driver's license; our birth
certificate. None of these things on their own, or sometimes even together,
truly define our identity. Yes, I am a female, who is ahem. . .shall we say
"not in her thirties anymore" years old, a mother, a wife, a pastor,
a daughter, a sister, etc. All of those things are a part of who I am, but
where does my true identity lie?
I wrestled this out recently and will likely find need to
wrestle it further as I continue to live on this planet. I had experienced
discouragement over an issue that had to do with the fact that I am a female in
a male dominated profession. My gender is oft times considered first and my
gifts, talents and experience considered second. This angered me. It wasn't
fair. It threatened to be a defining part of my identity. It threatened to
shape me into a jaded, cynical woman. It threatened to jail and silence my true
identity. It threatened to slowly poison my soul with a lie.
This is what I discovered as I wrestled with God in regards
to the path he has laid before me and the voices around me loudly saying it was
going to be more difficult, more challenging, it would take longer, all because
of one small piece of my human identity - my gender. I cried. I prayed. I cried
some more. Then that still small voice, that voice that I know is not mine or
my enemy's, that voice that whispers to my soul like deep calling to deep said,
"Kathy, your identity lies in the heart of the One who created you, not in
the human heart." Whoa! These words were not only salve to my hurting
heart but life to my very soul. This meant that I didn't have to pay any
attention to the voices telling me that my gender was an obstacle. This meant
that I didn't have to pay any attention to the voices that made it sound
impossible. I didn't even have to pay attention to my own voice that was
telling me that I should prepare for battle against this injustice. A battle
that surely would have led to me becoming a hard, jaded, cynical woman who
would be of no use to the kingdom of God. I found freedom as these words
destroyed the jail that was being constructed around my identity.
Here is my new identity, not new really but ancient. I am a
person made in the image of the living God. I am a woman who is a masterpiece,
a thing of amazing beauty to the One who created me. I am loved not because of
my gifts and talents, or because of what I do or don't do. I am loved because
according to God, I am worth dying for. These are not my words but his.
"So God
created mankind in his own image,
in the image
of God he created them;
male and
female he created them." (Genesis 1:27)
"For we
are God's masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the
good things he planned for us long ago." (Ephesians 2:10)
"But
God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners,
Christ died for us." (Romans 5:8)
I am working
on embracing my identity each day. Reminding myself that I am still becoming
who God created me to be. I have "good things" that God has planned
for me to do. Each step of growth brings me closer to the next "good
thing." Each step towards my true identity brings me closer to the One who
created it. It is a worthy journey.
Whose voice
are you listening to today in regards to your identity? May you choose to seek
out your identity that lies in the heart of your Creator.
