Unraveling Identities

God, who am I?

Have you ever asked Him this question before?

Maybe it’s not “Who am I?”, but rather, “Why am I the way that I am?”

When you meet someone new and introduce yourself, what is the first thing you choose to tell them about yourself? I’m sure the answer differs depending on who is on the receiving end. 

It was in college when I first fell in love with fitness. I mean, maybe it wasn’t love at first sight — more of a love-hate relationship. But I distinctly remember the moment when working out finally had a deeper purpose. The hate began to fade, and my ambition and desire to care for my body in this way grew.

A woman I followed on social media at the time said, “You need to have a ‘why’ behind your fitness.” She prompted her followers to write down who they were, and I made my first “Who am I?” list. 

I’m a sister. I’m an aunt. I’m a daughter. I’m a friend. I’m an early childhood educator. 

I’m sure there were others on that list as well. 

The next prompt explained that these roles I play have people on the other side of them. I was encouraged to make those people the reason behind caring for my body. 

I wanted to be healthy so I could show up for the people in my life who call me those names. Suddenly, it was no longer all about me, and like I said, my ambition for fitness grew. 

It’s so easy to work out for the wrong reason, and I have definitely done that myself. But when you attach a piece of your identity to fitness, it gives more purpose. More meaning. More weight. No pun intended. 

You might be wondering why I’m sharing this with you. I promise it will make sense soon. 

Over the past six months, I have been facing a type of identity crisis, as one might call it. Unfortunately, the feeling isn’t new to me.  

I’ve felt this way before. Actually, multiple times. Because I have allowed and attached my identity to many things in my 28 years on Earth. Things that are fleeting, temporary, and promise purpose but never fully satisfy.

I love lifting weights, but during COVID, my ability to enter a gym was taken away. Like many of us, I faced a crisis. Who was I if I wasn’t working out multiple times per week? Hitting new goals? Becoming a stronger, healthier version of myself for all those people I called my “why”? 

Funny enough, none of those people actually held that expectation of me, but I had formed an identity built on the pretense that certain people needed me to be a certain way. And that certain way couldn’t exist without a certain set of workout routines. Sounds a little crazy when you say it like that, right?

Before I move on, let me say this: I am in no way condemning exercise or caring for your body. I still very much believe we are called to care for our temple—our body—and to show up well for the people in our lives. After all, God only gave us one body, and I don’t want to take it for granted. 

What I am highlighting in sharing this piece of my story is how easy it is to attach our identity to a thing, place, or person. On the surface, this might not seem so bad. But finding your identity in anything of this world is a dangerous game to play. 

Remember when I said I’ve been going through an identity crisis recently? Let me share what’s been going on. 

In late 2024, I made the decision to step down from my vocational ministry position. After nearly four years in that role, my husband and I realized it was best for our family if I stepped down. There’s much more to this story, which would be much easier to explain face to face. Let’s grab a coffee and chat if you’d like to know more.

For now, I’ll say this: It was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to make. It wasn’t made overnight. It came through lots of prayer, conversations, and tears. 

When I was first offered this job, I cried tears of joy, thanking the Lord for giving me this opportunity. I met my husband through this job. I stepped into incredible leadership opportunities, was stretched and grown in countless ways, and worked alongside some of the most incredible human beings I have ever met. 

I had never worked in a place that not only challenged me but built me up, held me up, and pointed me to Jesus every step of the way. 

Over those four years, I worked more part-time jobs than I can count to supplement my income, but none of that mattered because I truly loved working for the church. 

During that time, a lot changed in my life. I married my husband, moved three times, and continued putting down roots in a fairly new walk with Christ. 

While learning to work in ministry, I was also learning what it meant to be a follower of Christ. I believed in who He is, but the depth of my new identity was still forming. I now understand that this is a lifelong process, but those first few years are so influential in laying that foundation. 

In the book of Matthew, Jesus shares parables that speak directly to the season of my early faith. In Matthew 7, He describes the difference between building your house on sand versus building it on the rock. The house built on the rock, a foundation of hearing, believing, and doing what Jesus says, will withstand the storms of life. But the house built on sand will surely fall.

In Matthew 13, Jesus shares the parable of the sower. He explains what happens when a seed is sown in different types of soil. Just as when a seed is planted in the ground, and the outcome relies on the health of the soil, something different happens to each person when they hear the word of God.

As I reflect on my own journey with Jesus, I recognize those early moments of reading, hearing, and believing His Word. I was building a new foundation for my life, and much of it was good. Seeds of faith and understanding were being planted in the soil of my heart and mind.

As my old beliefs about myself were chipped away, new, Godly beliefs began to form. Truths He says about me, found in scripture, and reaffirmed by my community. 

But somewhere along the way, without me realizing it, my identity became intertwined with my position in the church. That role gave me the purpose and responsibility I desired. In themselves, those desires aren’t bad, but some of the beliefs that followed were not aligned with what God actually says about me. 

I began believing that I had to do a certain amount of ministry to be noticed by God and make Him proud of me. I compared myself to those further along than me and felt unworthy to be in my position. And when I ever thought about stepping down, I was terrified to wonder who I was without the job. 

It feels surreal to admit that. But when God finally asked me to lay the position down at His feet, I was met with a wave of emotion that led to my unravelling.

I knew I needed to apologize for holding on so tightly. For placing a position ahead of my Heavenly Father. For forgetting who my first love is, and what He says about me.

As I accepted the changes that were coming, I put God back in His rightful place—above any job title or position. 

We must do this again and again as we walk with Jesus. It’s so easy to fix our eyes on everything else the world offers, to place our wills and desires before His. It’s easy to rely on routines, places, positions, and responsibilities to give us purpose. But what if we truly believed what God says about us? 

That we are chosen (1 Peter 2:9). 

Set apart (Jeremiah 1:5). 

Fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14). 

Image bearers (Genesis 1:26-28). 

Children of God (John 1:12). 

New creations (2 Corinthians 5:17). 

The light and salt of the earth (Matthew 5:13-16). 

More than conquerors (Romans 8:37). 

What if we believed our greatest purpose is to “love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind… and love your neighbour as yourself” (Matthew 22:34, 39 CSB)?

Colossians 3:23 commands us to work heartily for the Lord in all we do. And that is what I plan to do as I embrace every new season He graciously gifts me. 

That job was so much more than a job for me. It was a place of healing. But the glory and honour belongs to the Healer, not the position. 

He used these four years to shape me, mold me, and prepare me for what’s next. I was never meant to attach my identity to it. I was meant to find my identity in Him. 

Seasons change, people change, and the things of this world will fade away (1 Corinthians 7:31). If we’re not careful, when the world shuts down or the job comes to an end, our identities may fall apart too. 

Unless that identity is built on solid ground and rooted in the one thing that never changes. Rooted in Christ, and Christ alone.

I will probably spend the rest of my life learning and relearning what it means to build an identity that cannot be shaken. Fighting to believe what God says about me over the temptations and lies that creep in.

This season has been painful at times, but I’ve chosen to embrace the pain and discomfort of it all. 

I trust that He has me exactly where He needs me to do His best work: At His feet. Hands open. Heart surrendered. 

As I fix my eyes on Your face Lord, I am met with reassurance, peace, and a purpose that surpasses all understanding. 

Thank you Jesus for bringing me this far—and for all the places we have yet to travel together. 

 Edited by Allison Wicks