Our True Identity

“Who am I?”  It’s a question that has been pondered by individuals and philosophers throughout the centuries.  I am what I do.  I am what others say about me.  I am what I have.  These three answers commonly define who we are, but they also provide a lifetime of painful ups and downs.  When everything is “up” we feel good about ourselves, but when things are “down” we struggle for meaning.  Life is turbulent, and we fight to keep our head bobbing above water. 

It’s in the extravagant love of the Father that we find our true identity.  Through His Son we have been adopted into the family.  Now as redeemed children we are His beloved sons and daughters.  Nothing can change this rock solid reality.  Painful circumstances, loss, hurtful comments, our own selfish choices do not diminish our status as beloved children one iota. 

 

A couple of months ago Maria, Diana and I sat around the breakfast table brainstorming worship ideas.  Many of them found their way into our Sunday class.  The one that excited us most was having an extravagant breakfast to reflect the Father’s extravagant love. 

 

So early last Sunday morning Diana was up at the crack of dawn baking homemade croissants, sweet rolls and egg casseroles.  They came out of the oven around 9:00, just in time for us to pack it all in the car and make a mad dash for class.  Once there everything was served with fresh fruit salad, coffee and juice on dark green tablecloths with candle lit center pieces.  It reflected well His extravagance toward us. 

 

Hanging on the wall in the classroom overlooking our banquet table was The Return of the Prodigal by Rembrandt.  It’s the same one that hangs over the piano in our house.  In it the sinful younger brother kneels in humiliation, stripped of dignity and marked by suffering.  Off to the right at a distance the self-righteous elder brother stands erec, his hands clasped and his face closed.  Both sons wanted only what they could get from the father, not a relationship with him.  Both are lost.  Both are loved.  Only one sees his need. 

 

The father hovers over his younger son with a warm embrace.  Open cloak and open faced he holds the son with the strong confirming hand of a father and with the tender loving hand of a mother.  The younger brother has come home to his true identity.   

 

We too “come home” to our true identity each time we reject the world’s summation of who we are and live in the extravagant love of our Heavenly Father as His beloved sons and daughters.