Recently, I was looking through some unfinished article drafts and found this one from January 2025. Though dated from a current-events perspective, the issues are still relevant—because they’re timeless.
If the people and events seem stale, I invite you to look around and substitute them with current examples … you won’t have to search too hard to find them.
Perhaps you can even start—as I did—by looking in the mirror.
- dg
If you’ve read any of my content, you’re aware that I talk about identity.
A lot.
Whether or not it’s too much is perhaps a matter of opinion.
But it’s hard to argue against the reality that “Who am I?” is the most frequently asked question in all of humanity.
It is, after all,
the most profound question
we could ever ask;
the most human question.
Sometimes we ask it out loud. But usually we ask it unawares … unconsciously, in the depths of our soul. That this is true for all of us is self-evident.
We don’t have to look far to see real life examples.
For Example
In recent months, I discovered that each of the three people listed in the title—Demi Moore, Aaron Rodgers and Taylor Swift—have revealed aspects of their identity search.
Demi Moore
She recently won a Golden Globe award for best female actress for her portrayal of the main character in the movie, The Substance. In her moving acceptance speech, she stated how particularly important the award was for her. She recalled how a producer in her past labeled her a “popcorn actress”—a label she unfortunately took to heart and let define her for years. She followed up by saying,
“When I finally took myself seriously, other people started responding.”
Aaron Rodgers
Rodgers opened up about his struggle with identity in the documentary on his life, Enigma. The show details the journey from playing high school ball, to the awkward role of backup quarterback in the NFL to Brett Favre, to winning the starting job and working to improve his craft enough to win the Super Bowl.
After accomplishing the goal he’d had since high school, it suddenly hit him:
“Is this it?!? Now what? Who am I supposed to be now?”
The rest of the show details his attempts to answer that question. And the show’s title—along with his well-documented activities since that first Super Bowl win—give an indication of how far he’s gone in that search.
Taylor Swift
Taylor Swift might be the most recognizable person on the planet today. She’s had to deal with celebrity status at levels very few others in human history ever have.
She’s been transparent and frank about her challenges surrounding identity. It was a central theme in the 2020 documentary, Miss Americana, where she revealed how she came to define her worth through public approval, commercial success and the need to continually recreate herself to remain relevant. She laments …
“… constantly having to reinvent, constantly finding new facets of yourself that people find to be shiny.”
Perhaps most telling, she voices an emotion most of us share but few of us can ever put into words:
“I wish I didn’t feel like there’s a better version of me out there.”
Calling It What It Is: Coping
If you look at these high-profile people, it’s easy to see that their stories are actually quite common. Their journeys are more public-facing and complex, but the core mechanics are the same.
I’ve seen a curious pattern we all exhibit:
We’re open to discussing
the efforts we expend
toward finding our identity,
but we avoid discussing
who we actually are to begin with.
It’s almost as if we’re afraid to explore the topic of identity—like we’re ashamed of what we might find if we do.
So we cope by telling ourselves that the topic of identity is too ethereal and ill-defined, and instead we put our effort toward trying to make something of ourselves. We form our identity around performing well in whatever profession, role or activity we find ourselves in—including how we practice our faith.1
A New Perspective
We have to back up far enough to recognize that what feels like a good approach is actually a coping mechanism. We need to experience an Overview Effect, like the one astronauts have after they go into orbit for the first time and see Earth as it really is. Their perspective on life becomes permanently and irreversibly transformed.
For some background—and the bigger picture—check out …
There’s a reason this attempt to ‘make something of ourselves’ feels like the hamster-wheel experience it is:
We don’t actually HAVE the capacity
to generate our own identity.
We can no more
generate our own identity
than we can
generate our own righteousness.
Though it feels like we do (and like we should), we can’t form our own identity—no matter how hard we try. That’s because God created us so that we wouldn’t ever have to. He designed us to receive all identity, meaning, purpose and passion from him.
I love the way Richard Lints describes this:
“People, who are created as divine image bearers, are also capable of reflecting the created order. Thus humans may be said to have a reflective identity. In some sense they find meaning outside themselves by virtue of what they reflect.” (emphasis mine)2
Said another way, we have two choices about our identity:
We’ll receive it from God, or
We’ll receive it from other people, the world, the flesh or the enemy.
Either way, we are the receivers of our identity, not the creators of it. God alone is our identity creator.
Almost Like Jesus
Each of us is a unique reflection of God, created to do wonderful things that God himself invites us into because he intends to use us to accomplish his purposes (Eph. 2.10). But we do these things as a response, not as a means of trying to generate an identity on our own.
Imagine doing everything we do—raising kids, being an accountant, making disciples, creating things, excelling at being the best versions of ourselves—as a response to what we’ve received from God, rather than as a self-motivated attempt to convince ourselves, appeal to others or win God’s approval?
Imagine never creating strategy out of our own initiative.
Imagine never setting our own goals.
What if we put all our focus on abiding, hearing God and following the leading of the Holy Spirit to do everything we do?
We’d almost look like Jesus, who openly and freely admitted operating in complete dependence:
“…the Son can do nothing by himself; he can do only what he sees his Father doing, because whatever the Father does the Son also does.”
Jn. 5.19
Don’t Be Intimidated, Just Believe
I get it: It’s intimidating to look at yourself in the mirror and embrace the reality that you’re totally dependent. After all, it feels vulnerable and weak.
It sounds a lot like
the very thing you’ve been avoiding,
that great unspoken fear:
That I’m nothing … I’m nobody.
So making something of ourselves feels like a proactive alternative. But it’s actually just a frustrating hamster wheel that—ironically—legitimizes the very fear we’re trying to avoid.
The truth we must trust is that being totally dependent upon God is the most secure, peaceful, content and fulfilling place we could ever hope for.
It is God’s design for our lives.
It requires, obviously, that we believe that God is capable and willing to give us our identity, meaning, purpose and passion, and to do so consistently enough for us to live, move and have our being in him.
And this “belief” can’t just be a rational, theological position we acknowledge. We have to trust it, functionally and fully.
It also requires that we refuse to accept the accusation of the enemy whose sole purpose is to convince us of the lie that we’re nothing … we’re nobody.
That’s the narrow way forward.
Are you willing to walk this path, and un-make something of yourself?
Peace be with you …
Agree? Disagree?
I’m eager to know your thoughts and
kick this content around with you.
Leave a comment or message me to discuss.
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Footnotes:
It sort of begs the question to say that we “practice faith” by trying hard to make something of ourselves. But unfortunately, if we’re not careful that’s exactly what our faith practices drift into: us trying to make something of ourselves.
Richard Lints, Identity and Idolatry: The Image of God and Its Inversion (United States: InterVarsity Press, 2015), pg. 29.