The difficulty many people have with wandering is that you keep ending up at the same place, coming at it from various directions. Yet this is often the case in our Christian journey, but these returns are important. You get to see the issue from other perspectives: the lighting (your knowledge) might be brighter or dimmer, the season (your experience) reveals new features of the landscape, and the weather (your emotions) may obscure or clarify the view. Therefore, you see aspects of the issue you never imagined were even there. This is not always delightful, but it is always helpful.
Identity is one of the issues I’m continually bumping into. In fact, I generally return to it of my own accord. The subject fascinates me but leaves me disquieted. Being a Christian, I reason, should at least in part define who I am. Yet I’m dissatisfied with the answers I usually find. Lists of behaviors (dos and don’ts) are generally how people define Christians. Some personality researchers favor this approach to identity — you are what you do. I see their point but still feel flat. Are you more: you are why you do what you do?
You see I’m very good (for the most part) at doing what I’m “supposed to” do. Give me the criteria, and I can fulfill the assignment. I “do” very well, but I don’t “be” very well. So spiritually I return to this spot. I want so desperately to know what I’m supposed to “be” on the inside.
I’ve read many books to plumb these depths. (That is often how one travels in the land of Christianity.) One of my current favorites is The Crossroads of Must and Should. It helped me to distinguish between behaviors that I’ve been told I “should” do (many of which I agree with) and behaviors that I feel compelled to do — like write. Although helpful, I’m still left with an identity based on actions which I find disharmonious with what I read in the Bible.
Ty Gibson’s book A God Named Desire is one the the half dozen books I’m reading. I read books to have something to think about, and I have found a lot to think about in this book. He makes a strong argument that at the most basic level we are defined by relationship. (Now this is what I’ve gleaned, not what he has explicitly stated.) God identifies Himself many times by relationship — the God who made a covenant with Abraham, Issac, and Jacob. When we read “covenant” we tend to think of a contact, a business agreement — cold, professional, and distant. Yet God is defined by John as love (1 John 4:8). Surely a covenant with God (who is love) cannot be cold and distant. It cannot be a strictly professional association. God is the creator, but His identity even as creator is centered in the relationship of the Godhead. And if God’s identity is so conjoined to relationship, isn’t it reasonable to assume that my identity is just as dependent on relationship?
But there’s the rub. Which of my relationships defines who I am? And what does that mean anyway? Many people have made themselves just as miserable by defining themselves by relationships as by defining themselves by their occupation (what they do). Relational defining drives young and old alike into romantic relationship and parental relationships. All to answer the question: “Who am I?” Enough people have ruined their lives this way that I think it is safe to say that even the best of human relationships fail to provide a satisfactory answer to the identity question
Gibson focuses on God’s amazing type of love, which human relationships were designed to give us an insight into. On page 172 (of the e-book version), he states that “[l]ove is composed first of the ability to see others without reference to one’s self, without consideration for benefit to one’s self.” That is an amazing type of love, and God uses covenants to express that love. Gibson explains that “[c]ovenant is an idea that simply means there is more than one person and that those who coexist live toward one another with other-centered integrity.” (p 254) This self-forgetful love is the foundation of all else that God is. Might that not also be the core of what each and every one of us might be?
Talk about vulnerability! No wonder we prefer to self-identity by what we do and behaviors. They may not satisfy the dryness of the soul, yet they appeal to my innate self-centeredness. Who wants to think of other’s “without consideration for benefits to one’s self”? Our self-preservation almost short-circuits at the thought alone.
At that thought I came to a full stop. Mouth open as I was going to continue to protest.
I realized that at the most fundamental level self-centeredness is the desperate attempt to have a fulfilling relationship with one’s self. It becomes a type of relational black hole: you accept love from others, but your best attempts at love are tainted because you're only doing what you have to so the other person will feed you his/her love. The only relationship strong enough to counteract this is the relationship of the Godhead.
Some suggest that thinking about others is the key. I disagree that it is THE solution because the black hole in my soul will still be looking for what I can get out of it. Only as I learn to make God “first, last and best in everything” can I truly be. But that can be tricky because I can easily slide into merely doing. *sigh*
