You Don’t Define Who You are.

I got in my first argument with my mom when I was 3 years old. I wanted ice cream and so I went to my mom and said “Gungah,” which was what I called icecream when I was 3.Where on earth did I get the world gungah from? I have no clue. To this day, I’m still wondering if Gungah means icecream in any language on this planet.   That’ll always be a mystery, I guess. Anyways, so I’m standing there asking my mom for Gungah, and she responded: “Icecream, Marlie. You mean Icecream.”

“Gungah,” I retorted. Duh. Gungah. The cold creamy chocolate stuff that I get all over my face and hands. Gungah.

“Ice cream. Repeat after me: ICE….CREAM…”

“GUN…GAH….” I repeated again.

“No no no. if you want icecream you’re going to have to call it icecream. Let’s take it one word at a time. Say: ICE. Then Cream.”
“GUN….GAH.”

3 year old me was getting flustered. My mom says that I started to tear up a bit and my lower lip stuck out… and I murmured between sniffles, “Gun-gah???” And she caved due to my adorable blue eyes and bright blonde hair. And I got icecream đŸ™‚

I called it gungah for a year. Did me calling icecream by a different name alter or change the fact that icecream was called icecream? No. Bluebell didn’t recall all of its icecream (TOO SOON?) to change the labels from Blue Bell Icecream to Blue Bell Gungah. Just because I called it something different didn’t change the reality that it’s name is icecream. 

Tonight, we talked about identity. And we talked about all the different names we’ve called ourselves in our lives. I’ve called myself plenty of names, very unkind names, things I would never call other people. And when I start calling myself names, it always leads me into a dialogue…erm..argument with God.

“I really messed that up today. I’m a failure.” I said.

“No, you’re my Child and I love you.”

“Failure.”

“My child.”

“Fail…ure.”

“My…Child.”

If I wake up and feel like a failure and call myself that, God’s not going to be like “Oh snap. Thanks for correcting me.  You’re so right, Duh, you are a failure.” No. He’s going to grab my chin, lift it up and say “My child.”

I don’t define who I am, other people don’t define who I am, I am always and forever identified as a Child of God.My favorite song is Cornerstone by Hillsong United. And my favorite part is the last verse.

When He shall come with trumpet sound, oh may I then in Him be found.
Dressed in HIS righteousness alone, faultless to stand before the throne.

No matter what I call myself, no matter what others call me, good or bad, I stand before God dressed in Christ’s robe of righteousness. I stand before God faultless, loved, co-heirs with Christ.

But now he has reconciled you by Christ’s physical body through death to present you holy in his sight, without blemish and free from accusation.

Colossians 1:22

 

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