There are voices everywhere that try to tell us who we are. Family, friends, employers, colleagues, neighbors, and the list goes on and on… Yet, there is only One who can truly say who I am. There is only One who defines me. He made me.
I was chatting with my kids the other day, and they shared an anecdote of a road trip taken some years back. My eldest had exasperatedly said to a sibling after someone had done some name calling, “You can’t say that. Everyone at school tries to tell us who we are and it’s not right!” Of course there was more to the story and more to the back story…
Still… There I was, on a flight just the other day and an older gentleman seated next to me began to try to tell me who I am. “I’m sorry, but I have to disagree.” Because I know who I am. Of course, he began to call me names. Because all single women are “hoes”. Because I would not allow him to touch me or give him my telephone number I was a country girl among other derogatory statements, who would eventually “give it up”.
In truth, I felt – I feel violated. I mean, how dare he? He’s old enough to be my father. In all actuality, it is likely a win for the Jesus side and the single ladies side, because I stood my ground and he did not get his way this time, despite his profanities and putting me down.
I wanted to go into a speech, like my daughter, You can’t tell me who I am. I may have a tiny bit. I know who I am and my worth. I belong to Jesus. This earned a, Yeah, my brother’s a minister and my mom goes to church, I know all about that.
As I reflect, I feel bad for the man. He needs God. A cheap hook up with someone he meets on an airplane or in a bar is not worth his soul. Knowing about God through his mom or brother is not the same as knowing God. I pray that he will find God for himself. At the end of the day, it is not about me at all. Rather, it’s about pointing others to Jesus.