Who am I? I am clay.

Who am I.  I am clay. This is a tough one for me.  I wanted to be the Potter and not the clay. I wanted to mold my life into my image of who I wanted to be.

The pot I wanted to be was actually from a design I got from others. I looked at their pots and wanted to be like them.

It sounds kind of funny now. I wanted to be like Jerry Falwell and W. A. Criswell. Like Falwell, I wanted to grow a big church from scratch. Like Criswell, I wanted to preach to thousands every Sunday and preach in conferences and revivals. I wanted the prestige and power that I thought they had. They were everything I wasn't. They were big, I mean, BIG pots!

I set out to mold myself into being a big pot like them and other pastors who I admired.

I remember going to an evangelism conference where the late Adrian Rogers was one of the featured speakers. I hung on every word that he said to try and make myself into a pot like him.  Maybe I could be a big and successful pot too. I sure wanted that. 

In my vanity, I thought the bigger the pot the better. I thought I would be serving Christ in a big, powerful way. Spreading the Gospel.  Many coming to salvation. Scores walking the aisle to confess Christ as Savior. Big pots glorify Christ more than little pots. I wanted to be a big pot glorifier!

Those were certainly worthy goals. Christ would be glorified and the kingdom of God would increase through my big pot ministry. You know, a big pot can hold a lot more than a little pot. I wanted to hold a lot.

I wanted to be the speaker at state and national conferences. I wanted to write books that would be read and talked about. I wanted. I wanted. I wanted. And, I made myself miserable in wanting what I could never be and never obtain. Try as I might, I couldn't make my clay into a big pot. 

I couldn't understand why the Lord didn't fulfill my dreams and desires. I sure tried to help him out. I worked hard to attain to the standard I set for myself. I worked too hard and too long. I practically worked 24/7 and neglected everything and everyone close to me who I held dear. After all, Jesus said, "He who loves family more than me, isn't worthy to follow me." The big pots reminded of these words many times.   

But, it wasn't Jesus I loved.  It was me.  I wanted.  I wanted.  I wanted.

I was not content to be an average clay pot. Embellish me. Put fancy, elegant designs on me. Make me into something ornate, fine, and valued.  

I couldn't understand why I couldn't make myself into a big pot. My pot plan was modeled after their big pot and that had to be a good thing.  But every time I tried to make my pot from their blueprint, I was thwarted. Every effort to succeed failed. 

I argued with the Potter. "No, this isn't the way I want you to make me. Make me like THEM! And, if you don't make me like them, I will do it myself!"

I questioned the Potter.  "You must not love me like you say you do or else You would make me like THEM! Why did you make me like this!?

I fought, scrapped, and struggled.  I punched myself out. It was to no avail. 

I stayed depressed a lot too. I had trouble managing my anger.  Depression is, I found out, anger turned inward, and sometimes that anger can't be contained inside.  My psychologist diagnosed me as clinical depressed. I didn't like or want to be a little ordinary, drab pot. Unnoticed. Disregarded. Overlooked. My "I" wanted to be a big pot! I didn't want to be a little pot and that depressed me. Well, there were some other things too, but that was one of them.

It's kind of funny now that I look back on it.  Of course, it wasn't funny then. It was my life, my burning desire, and my call.  Or at least, I thought it was my call. But, it's funny now.  I shake my head and laugh at my silliness and vanity. 

Obviously, the design that the Potter had in mind for me was something far different than what I had designed for myself!  

Just about the time that I had made myself into what I thought was a big pot, SMASH. The potter wasn't pleased and shattered my pot into a thousand shards. He didn't like my pot to say the least. "Hmmm," He must have mused to Himself, I've got to break this one and start over." And every time, I didn't like the small, simple pot that the Potter was making out of my clay.  So, I took over the pot-making trying to make myself again in the image I had for myself.  I was one more stubborn piece of clay! I'm surprised He didn't lose patience with me.

But he didn't lose patience! He just kept on breaking me and making me again and again until I finally surrender to His skillful hands letting Him make me in the image He had designed for me from the very beginning. After all, he formed me in my mother's womb and would design me the way he wanted to.  His design for me was to be a little pot. Unnoticed. Common. Plain.

Now that I have stopped and thought about it, the Potter did a pretty good job designing me.  No, He didn't do a pretty good job.  He did a perfect job! Absolutely perfect with nary a flaw! He formed the image of Christ out of my clay, and there's nothing imperfect in Christ. 

 

Wasn't Jesus the perfect man?  He was meek and lowly in heart in His days upon earth? Did He ever seek honor, prestige, or power? Did He not consider Himself to be a little pot? Jesus was perfect in humility and modeled humility. That's the design He uses to form clay into pots.   

It took a lot of shattering and remaking, but I finally got it.  Or rather, the Potter finally got what got what He was after. He got the little pot in the image of His Son. I think He is kind of pleased with the way He made me turn out.  

 

He has to polish me up every now and then. He has to do a little repair work. There is nothing like a good dusting and polishing to keep me shining, and there is nothing like super glue to repair and reattach what falls off every now and then. His skilled hands not only formed me, but they maintain me as well. 

And, I am right pleased with the work of the Potter on me, a piece of clay, now molded into a pot in the likeness of his Son instead of a likeness in my image or anybody else's image for that matter.  

Who am I? I am clay molded into a pot for the service of the Potter. I am just an ordinary, common pot. But to the Potter, I'm pretty special because anything He makes is special to Him and loved by Him. I'm glad now that He chose to make me a little pot. I'm glad that He didn't give up on me.  I'm glad He kept shattering me. I'm glad and rejoice. The Potter knows best. I give my life to the Potter's hand.

Click the arrow on the video to worship the Potter through song. Praise and thank Him for making and forming you and me by His hand.

Who Am I? I am God's temple.

Who am I?  I am God's temple.

I am defined as God's temple. I am holy.  Sacred. Separated from the common and made special because I am dedicated to God through Christ.

My mother dedicated me to the Lord before I was born!  When I was a child, I became conscious of God calling me and choosing me.  Mother dedicated me. I dedicated myself. Most of all, Christ dedicated me with the sacrifice of His blood.

That's the way they dedicated the Temple.  Lots of animals were sacrificed to dedicate the Temple to the Lord and set it apart for service and the worship of Jehovah God, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Jesus sacrificed Himself making my temple holy and set apart for worship. His blood sacrifice dedicated my temple for service and worship for Him.

And, the Lord filled that Temple with His glory. The priests couldn't perform their service because the glory of the Lord came down. The Lord inhabitated His Temple!

Like that Temple, I am God's Temple filled with the glory of God!  The glory of the Lord inhabits me. His Spirit inhabits me. He fills me with Himself   That's who I am. A place of God's abiding Spirit. Christ in me. The glory of Christ fills me.  That's a powerful reality.

I'm not filled with the stuff of this world that looks appealing when new but too soon becomes broken, outdated, and discarded as junk.

I am not filled with revenge or the spirit of retaliation. I am not filled with the idols of pleasure, the co-dependency of pleasing people, or fleshly desires. NO,  I am instead filled with the glory of Christ. The glory of His love.  The glory of His mystery. And, the glory of His grace and truth!  The glory of Christ fills my temple. Every inch and every corner from wall to wall and from floor to ceiling. That's who I am! That's who I was made to be. That's who I am dedicated to be.

That's very humbling to me.  It's still hard for me to accept that reality.

That Temple was filled with gold and silver instruments of worship. The seraphim with wings outstretched watched over the ark of the covenant and the covenant is the promises that He keeps with His chosen people.

I too am gold and silver instruments in my worship of Christ. My worship makes me valuable to the Lord for He inhabits my praise as He inhabits my temple.  I am not a common thing. I am not ordinary but extraordinary. I am special, holy, called to seve Him as the instrument and building for worship. I fulfill the chief purpose for which I was created.  To worship Christ and enjoy Him forever.  To have the pleasure of His company in a holy and eternal sacred love relationship!

And like the seraphim so watched over that Temple, so God's angels watch over me. I can't think of numerous times they looked after me. For example, one time I fell asleep at the wheel and they, although unseen, guided me into a safe place where I woke up.  My heart beat fast. I was stunned. When I realized what had happened, I offered praise to the One who dispatches His angels to care and look out for me. Angels watching over me day and night.  When I sleep. When I awake. Angels watching over my temple like in days of old.

The Temple's materials were very expensive. It cost a lot of money to purchase the building materials. It cost a lot to purchase my Temple for the Lord's use as well. I was bought with a price, the blood of Jesus.  A price that cannot be measured.

I am not my own. I do not own my "I."  Christ owns it.  The title to myself has been transferred to Christ. He owns me and made me His Temple to inhabit me and fill me with His glory.

Since my Temple was purchased from me by the blood of Jesus, I am no longer controlled by sinful addictions. I am free to be who Christ wants me to be. A place where He abides and forms His image of glory in me.

I am no longer under human control. I am no longer controlled by who if thought others wanted me to be and do.  For me, that is FREEDOM! And it took a long time for me to finally realize this as my identity - God's magnificent Temple. That's who I am. I am God's Temple made into a place where He abides and receives my worship of Him.

The incense rising from my Temple altar of prayer is a pleasing aroma to Him. I am to please Him and not others. I am to please Him and not myself. I live to worship Him. I live to worship You!

You are the Lamp in my Temple filling me with Light. I give my life to you. You are the only One I'm living for. I give my all to you.

O Lord, fill my Temple with your glory. Cleanse me. Glorify yourself through my Temple. I live to testify of your glory, power, and your life in me.

Who am I?  I am a temple of the Holy Spirit of Christ!

"Here In My Life," Darlene Zschech

 

Who Am I? I am at rest.

Who am I?  I am at rest. It was nothing I archived by my power. Rest came by the power of Christ through His grace and mercy.

Since the Lord has given me self-understanding and self-awareness of who He says I am instead of me merging my identity (my ego) into others and becoming them and therefore losing my identity, I have a great since of peace and validation. It's a wonderful feeling. The writer of Hebrews calls this entering into God's rest.

For me, the rest is an end to my struggles and the resulting stress of trying to be someone God in His providence never intended me to be. It was like He forced my "I" to be subjugated to Him. He put me in my place so that He could put me in His place, the place of His rest. Christ brought me into His place of rest when I quit "kicking against the pricks" and going against the grain.

It's been an humbling experience to go from me trying to get to the top to the reality and acceptance of being at the bottom.  It took a lot of hard knocks for my "I" to die.  I didn't go down easily. But when my "I" was finally given the knock-out blow, something amazing and wonderful happened!  I entered God's rest. I am at rest.

Stress vanished. I no longer had to take my calm down, anti-anxiety pill. I no longer had to take my "pick-up" pill either to counter my depression. It was and is quite amazing, and my Christian doctor was happy for me. My wife said, "It's good to have you back!"  Well, it's good to be back, and I have Christ alone to thank who gave me no rest until I entered His rest.

It's one thing to read and hear Jesus' words, “Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly”  (Matthew 11:28-29 MSG).  

It's one thing to read and hear those words. It's another thing to believe His words, accept them, and be in "real rest" and to live freely and lightly.

The good Lord refused to let me rest until I followed Him into His rest and became more like Him by way of His image being formed in me. 

I was stubborn going against the grain. It took a lot of painful unrest to recover my "I" and learn the rhythms of grace. 

For me, His rest means that I am no longer defined by my success or failure, by praise or criticism, and whether or not I am accepted or rejected.  I can just be little me knowing that I am accepted by Christ for who I am just as I am and not who I thought I should be. And that is rest. The rest Christ gives me.

His rest takes worry out of me. His rest takes stress away like a cool drink of water takes away thirst. His rest is a place of quiet repose and sanctuary full of joy and peace instead of discouragement and conflict which fostered my anger.

Who am I?  I am at rest. It's a wonderful place to be. I never want to leave it, and by God's grace and mercy through Christ, I never will!  Amen and amen.

How I Lost and Recovered My "I"

Before I understood and accepted who I am as defined by Christ, my identity could be described as a blob. I didn't know who I was.  I thought I knew my identity, but I didn't. It's kind of like traveling on a road with a posted 45 mile per hour speed limit. 

The other day, I was traveling such a road. I knew it was a 45 mile per hour speed limit. For some reason, I looked at my speedometer and saw I was doing 60.  I was listening to a radio talk show and was oblivious to my speed. It was an innocent mistake, but I was violating the law. Fortunately, I didn't get ticketed for speeding.  I slowed to 45 and activated cruise control.   

 

Similarly, I was bee-bopping down the road of life oblivious to who I am as defined by Christ. Thank God, Christ revealed my true identity given to me by Him. I am now on cruise control.

Jesus said that Satan steals, kills, and destroys.  The devil stole my “I.” I didn't even know it like I didn't know I was doing 60 on a 45 mile per hour road. I knew the speed limit but didn't know it. In the same way, I knew who I was but didn't know it. 

Several years ago, I had my identity stolen.  I didn't know that either. I had clicked on a link in an official looking email I thought it was from my bank. The fraudulent message asked me to verify my account.  I clicked on the link and filled out the form.  Several days later, my wife got a phone call saying cash had been pulled out of our account from a place in Chicago. We live in Georgia.  Fortunately, a flag had gone up prompting my bank to call us. The bank’s data showed that we didn’t make purchases or withdrawals in Chicago. My wife told the lady that we had not never been in Chicago.  The bank lady told my wife that our identity had been stolen.  The lady promptly changed our account number and issued us a new one.  Thankfully, we were only liable for $50. 

That's the way the devil stole my “I.” Sadly, most of life passed with someone else using my “I” until Jesus called and revealed that my identity had been stolen. He re-issued my true identity based on how He defines me.

My identity will never be stolen again. I don't click on links from official looking emails from any banking company. I know they are spam and phishing for my identity. Likewise, I know the thieving schemes of the devil to steal my identity.  I won't be fooled again!

How was my identity stolen by the devil?  My identity was not secure.  I was insecure. I lacked self-confidence. I had little self-awareness of who I am. I had doubts about who I am.  I was a prime candidate for the devil to steal my “I.”

I was like a chameleon changing colors to match the environment.  My “I” was stolen because I felt that I had to turn into who I felt others wanted me to be in order to be accepted and please them. Psychologists label this as a people-pleasing personality. Not good or healthy. 

For example, if I perceived that they thought I was a goof, I turned into a clown which caused them to treat me like a goof.  I would crack jokes like a comedian which seemed entertaining to them and made them happy. My purpose was to please them and make them happy at my expense.  

If they thought I had some ability to offer them and advance their career and position, I worked my tail off to prove them right.  I did anything they asked and wanted me to do for them.

I look back to a period in my life 30 years ago.  It's tattooed in my memory. This is one incident out of many I could cite.   

I greatly admired and respected my Director of Missions who had a drive to start new Southern Baptist churches in our Baptist Association. He would say something like, "It's the Lords will to do this or that. I believe He wants you to do it."  To illustrate, a small church lost their pastor.  Jack wanted me to travel 30 miles to preach for and pastor that church. Then I’d travel back to my church to preach on Sunday mornings and do all my pastoral duties for them too. Before long, I was working almost non-stop to do what he said was the Lord's will. Can you say, “workaholic?” After all, I wanted to do the Lord's will. I wanted to be His good servant.  My identity was such a blob that I allowed Jack to interpret for me what the Lord's will was for me.

My “I” merged with his “I.” I became Jack in order to gain his affirmation and acceptance.

Moreover, he heaped praise upon me.  A little praise for me was like saying "Sic 'em" to a dog." I did everything he wanted me to do.  In the process, I neglected my family. But what I didn't know then was that it was more Jack's will than the Lord's will. Do you see how deceptive the devil was in stealing my “I?” A good man was used to rob me of my “I.” That’s the way the devil works. He takes good and perverts it.    

Who am I? I am an ambassador.

Who am I?  I am an ambassador for Christ.

Some of the happiest memories of my childhood were in Royal Ambassadors (RA's).  It was kind of a Southern Baptist Boy Scouts.  I had ingrained in me the RA motto verse, "We are ambassadors for Christ."  That made me feel pretty special then, and and it does now.  It's another powerful description of my identity that Christ gives me. Well, the Apostle Paul gives me this identity. He's the one who defines me as Christ's ambassador. But, I consider it coming from Christ nevertheless.

When I was about 16, I was asked to become a Royal Ambassador leader. I led a group of boys in my church as their RA counselor.  I passed on to them the wonderful fact and privilege of being an ambassador and a royal ambassador at that!  An ambassador for my King representing Him and His country, the Kingdom of God.

When I was a Southern Baptist pastor, I always supported the Royal Ambassador program.  In one church, I led the men to begin Royal Ambassadors for the boys.  It quickly grew because of good, faithful laymen and was an instrument of blessing for many boys.  My son was a Royal Ambassador in churches I served and has happy memories of that experience.

Who am I?  I am Christ's ambassador.  Knowing who I am gives me a deep sense of purpose. Everyone's identity comes from outside him/herself and is incorporated into his/her sense of self.

My first understanding of self came from my parents. They gave me a confused identity. I knew they loved me.  Yet, they also criticized me. I felt I could do nothing right. I sought to please them, but nothing I did no matter how hard I tried seemed to please them. I always fell short of their expectations for me.  I set out to prove them wrong. That really led to identity confusion.  I latched on to people who I thought affirmed me and turned to trying to please them. I finally realized that I was trying to please my parents through them in order to get the praise I lacked as a child.

That's craziness because I became addicted to pleasing people and became addicted to their praise.  I relished the praise of others.  I wanted them to think that I was "SOMEBODY!"

Looking back, that was the manifestation of my idolatry.  I worshipped others and wanted others to worship me with their praise of me and my performance. I was miserable and unhappy and felt like a ping pong ball going back and forth.  Praised, I felt happy, affirmed, respected, important, and significant. Criticized, I felt rejected, inferior, lonely, dissed, and insignificant. So, I tried even harder to earn the approval from people whom I considered important and necessary to give me my identity. I wanted them to define me in a positive way. It's no fun feeling like a ping pong ball being smacked back and forth from affirmation to rejection. From highs and lows. From happiness to depression. I had put myself at the mercy of others dependent on them to fulfill my deep need to be "SOMEBODY."

Out of my emotional pain from being knocked around all over the table seeking my identity from any and everyone, I began a quest that ended in self-understanding and self-awareness of who I am.

When I stopped long enough to listen to the Lord, to meditate, to seek counseling, to read good Christian self-help books, then Christ revealed to me my true identity.  I am His.  He is mine.  I knocked on the door.  He opened it and lavished me with Himself giving me my true identity.  The truth set me free.

Christ gave me true self-understanding and self-awareness. After all, He is Truth.

I began a journey of understanding who I really am. It's been a wonderful journey of discovery and revelation. I was so moved that I wanted to write about my true identity feeling that others may be going through the same wrenching experience of not knowing who they really are. Of being knocked around like a ping pong ball and searching for their identity and purpose for being born. Perhaps, my musings will be helpful to somebody who needs the positive identity of self-hood that Christ gives me.

As Christ's ambassador, it is as though God is making His appeal through me on Christ's behalf: "Be reconciled to God." To be one with Him. To reflect the image of Christ and to be at peace in mind, emotions, and spirit.  

 

Not only do I have a fully formed identity, I have a driving purpose coming out of my identity. Christ gives me a driving passion to live. To be His ambassador. To work as His ambassador.

It sounds weird. I knew I was His ambassador, but I didn't know it.  Now, all of this makes sense. It was not easy.  Yet at the same time, it was easy. All I had to do was believe, accept His definition of me, and act on that!

I am appointed by my King to represent Him in a foreign land where I am an alien.  I want to do my best to please Him. To put my best foot forward. To represent His interests and not mine. That's a transformation for me. Previously, I was all about representing me and desirous of people who I thought important to give me their praise and adulation.

Working as an ambassador in a foreign land can be dangerous and life-threatening. Not everyone likes who I represent. I think of  our U.S. Ambassador, John Christopher Stevens, who was murdered on September 11, 2012, at out embassy in Benghazi, Libya, by Muslims who hated him and hate the United States. Likewise, there are those who hate the Christ I represent and thus hate me. I have been the object of their hatred. At a former church, one member told me on the church steps to go back to hell and the devil where I came from.  At another church, a member told me that he prayed lightning would strike me dead. No, it's sometimes not easy being an ambassador for Christ. But by far, and most of the time, I am welcomed and treated with respect and honor.  I am blessed to be and serve as His ambassador.

Paul even considered himself to be "an ambassador in chains," and asked the church to pray that He might declare the gospel fearlessly.

This charge of faithful ambassadorship comes from Christ and has been passed on and on, down through the ages to even me. 

My predecessors have been cast out, flogged, stoned, burned, and beheaded for their loyalty to the gospel.  Their embassies have been pillaged and burned. I think of the recent Muslim attacks on the Syrian and Egyptian Coptic Christian churches especially. 

I am under the most solemn obligation of loyalty and faithfulness to the sacred work to give Christ honor and praise in this foreign land ruled by the prince of the power of the air, the spirit now at work in the "children of disobedience."

Moreover, I have a duty to live a Christ-like life since I represent Him. When an ambassador for Christ finds him/herself in an embarrassing or awkward position, it cannot but discredit the cause of truth and the One represented. So, I am careful to never discredit Him through a lapse in morality. My language and actions must be pure and self-controlled. However, I have to admit that there have been times when I failed in this especially when my temper gets the best of me.

There are so many ways to be disloyal and derelict in my duty to my King. The list is endless on how I can bring shame to Him, His cause, and His kingdom who I represent. But I do know and am aware that those in and out of the church will be attracted to the gospel by my complete devotion to Him and unequivocal devotion to duty. As Christ's ambassador, I cannot turn back, even though I may suffer hardship, ridicule, hostility, and fierce opposition.

Being an ambassador for Christ has it's perks and perils. I gladly serve and will serve as Christ's ambassador. It is a lifelong service and defines who I am!  I am thankful He chose and appointed me to represent Him in this foreign land. I pray my service will point others to join His kingdom and serve as His ambassador wherever they are. 

Who am I?  I am an ambassador for Christ.

As a Royal Ambassador, I will do my best:

To become a well-informed, responsible follower of Christ;
To have a Christ-like concern for all people;
To learn how the message of Christ is carried around the world;
To work with others in sharing Christ; and
To keep myself healthy in mind and body.

Amen!

Who Am I? I Am Chosen

Who am I?  I am chosen.

Why is it important to know who I am?  To know my identity? To know I am chosen by Christ and belong to Him?

I have a crying need to be significant. To know that I matter. To know I am a person of worth and have a purpose to get up every morning.  I have dreams and aspirations. I don't want to watch life pass me by from the sidelines.

Because Christ chose me for His team, I get in the game and play the game of life for His glory. I win with Him and for Him. I am a winner because He is a winner. I am more than a conqueror through Him who gave His all for me and gives me the power to win for Him!

I want to feel that I am important and that I count for something.  Christ did that for me by choosing me to be on a his team.

But, I wanted to play on another team.  I wanted to play with the big boys. To become successful like them. To be significant. I wanted to be famous and well-known like them. To plow under the competition like they did.

I heard their success stories. "Be like me," they said.  "You can achieve your dreams. You can play on the winning team with us instead of the humble bumble team you are on." They would rattle off all the things I needed to do to be successful and powerful like them. If I followed their advice, I could win trophies and proudly display them like they did.

I practically drove myself crazy implementing all of their formulas for success. But, it was to no avail. I didn't make their cut list. Didn't make their team. I failed and branded myself a failure because I didn't measure up.  No one took notice!  No one I considered important chose me for their team in spite of my best efforts to impress them with my performance. It was rejection after rejection from them.  Or, that's the way it appeared to me.

As a result, I doubted myself and my abilities. So, I tried harder. I worked more.  It was no use.  Depression became my constant companion.  I lived in darkness.

My obsession to be significant was really a cry for attention, security and, ultimately, the need for spiritual healing. I needed my heavenly Father to show me that I matter to Him. That I am significant to Him. He had to reveal to me that the accolades, affirmation, and honors from people I considered significant and successful really didn't matter at all. He chose me for His team. He wouldn't allow me to play for any other. No wonder I was miserable. He is jealous over His chosen team. He doesn't trade away one of His team members.  He makes a person who wants to play with the big boy team miserable.  Trust me. I know. 

I think my relentless drive to be the star quarterback for the big boy team was rooted in my childhood. I didn't receive much affirmation growing up.  My parents were good people and did the best they could. I'm guessing they had passed down to them what they passed on to me. The Bible calls this the "generational curse."  

I remember my dad telling me, "You're not going to amount to a hill of beans."  

My mom called me "Impudent, rebellious, and sassy!"  

My high school principal told me, "You're never going to make it in college!  You need another year of high school."

Looking back, it seems I went through a large portion of my life trying to prove everyone wrong and that their opinions of me were wrong.  To prove them wrong, I was driven to be somebody important.  To be well known. Even famous! 

 

That's not a good way to live. I wouldn't recommend it for anybody. 

I was driven to be validated. I wanted everything that I did to be perfect so as to receive the "Good Job" award. I wanted not only to be on their team, but I coveted their Most Valuable Player award. I was obsessed with my work.  My desire was to please them. To perform up to their expectations.

I went off the cliff if I received an evaluation other than perfect.  I was jealous of peers who received the MVP award.  I had a lot of resentment and felt I was treated unfairly and unappreciated. 

The broken and missing parts in me needed to be restored. I longed for the affirmation and validation I missed growing up.

With a lot of help, counsel, and meditating on who I am, I began to realize that when parents don’t tell their children that they love them, they will look for other relationships and experiences to speak to  their aching hearts. The significance-shaped vacuum seeks the comfort of the world’s applause. That was me. 

The dark side of all this need for significance was my self-induced anxiety and desperation? I suffered when things didn't turn out the way I expected. I was fixated furiously on “my plans and goals and drove myself and the ones closest to me crazy. I wanted to see results right away. I wanted instant gratification and wanted everyone to love me for my superior performance. I wanted to be a winner. After all, no one loves a loser!

Who am I? I am Christ's handiwork.

Who am I?  I am Christ's handiwork!  That's really something to ponder.  Knowing who I am in Christ with the identity He gives me and how He defines who I am solidifies my identity.

I am not defined by my failures or successes.  I am not defined by what others say I am or by their evaluations of my performance.  I am not even defined by who I think I am because sometimes, I don't think very highly of myself. I am defined by Christ. He gives me my identity.  I can rest in knowing that.

It's a powerful thing to know my identity.  It gives me power, confidence, belonging, and most importantly, BEING!

I am Christ's handiwork. Incredible. I've always thought of His handiwork as being in the night sky. The stars, the Milky Way, and the moon.  Glorious!  Marvelous to behold.

I am right now looking at his handiwork from my man-cave.  The Georgia pines covered in ice. The cardinals at my bird feeder on the background of ice-covered ground.  Beautiful and brilliant.

But me?  Christ's handiwork?  Comparable to the beauty of the night sky?  The beauty of gray covering the earth with ice falling from its wonder?

Yes!  I am God's handiwork through the grace of Christ.  And, I am created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for me to do.

Isn't that what His creation does?  He created them to show forth His glory, majesty, and creative power. The sun does what it was created to do. It is to do the good work of giving light and heat to this world by giving its energy.  And the grey cloud?  It does what it's created to do - to give water to the earth making life possible on this planet.  

Only by the grace of God through Christ's sacrifice on the cross, and by His life in me can I do what I am created to do.  

He gives me the ability to worship Him in truth and love.  That's what I was created to do.  

I am His handiwork to do the good works of speaking encouragement to the discouraged. To give a helping hand to the fallen.  To give the warmth of  kindness to the unkind.  To show patience to the angry.  To demonstrate love to the unloved. To point to the Way for those who have lost their way.  To share the Word of Hope to the hopeless and confused. 

I couldn't do this without God's grace and Christ living in me -  forming His image in me.  I'm not kind by nature. I am mean and snappy and still have that mean streak show up at the worst times.  By nature, I'm impatient and subject to a fit of rage here and there. It takes a while for His image to fully form in me. But, I sense it more and more.  That's His grace making me His handiwork. By nature, I'm fallen and full of my old self.  But praise the Lord, I'm a new creation.  And, I'm evolving into my new nature. It's been a long process.  This evolutionary process will continue all my life.just as the earth, God's handiwork, is still evolving.

Who am I?  I am God's handiwork created for good works.  The Master Carpenter is forming me, making me, and shaping me into the person only He can make. Praise the Lord!  All glory to Him!  I know who I am!

Who am I? I am a soldier.

Who am I?  I am a soldier.  I've never been a real soldier.  Vietnam was going hot and heavy when I came of age for the draft. I had to register for the draft and got a college deferment. Then Richard Nixon was elected President in 1972, and instituted a draft lottery based on birthdays.  My birthday was drawn way down on the list, and I was home free.

Later in college, I almost dropped out and joined the Air Force.  I had a good ASVAB test score, and the recruiter really went after me.  I called mom, and she begged me not to enlist. She cried on the phone.  I decided not to join. Vietnam was still going on.  To Nixon's credit, he soon got us out of that war.  That's as close as I got to being a soldier.

I didn't believe in that war.  Didn't understand and still don't understand why we went over there. Don't understand why we invaded Iraq and Afghanistan either.  I was and am opposed to both wars. To President Obama's credit, he got us out of Iraq and is winding down our involvement in Afghanistan. The only war that makes sense to me is our engagement in World War II which my dad was in.

So I don't know anything about being a real soldier except what my World War II and Vietnam veteran friends tell me, and my son tells me.  He served in the Air Force, and got out after Bill Clinton was elected President. And, I have heard from other veterans and soldiers now serving too. I've read a lot too and enjoy the Military Channel at times. I know a little something about soldiering but have never experienced it.

The Apostle Paul never served in the Roman army either.  But, he certainly knew about soldiering since the Roman armies occupied his world. He called Archippus a fellow soldier.  Paul then considered himself a soldier too. He told Timothy, who never served either, to be a good soldier. "Join with me in suffering, like a good soldier of Christ Jesus. No one serving as a soldier gets entangled in civilian affairs, but rather tries to please his commanding officer" (2 Timothy 2:3-4).

Paul saw the suffering soldiers endured.  No doubt, some of them still carried their wounds. Maybe he saw soldiers who had lost a limb or an eye. Maybe they had visible and also invisible emotional scars. Maybe he was referring to the suffering they endured in training and in battle. One thing about it, good soldiers suffer.

Soldiers of Christ suffer too. There's no way around it.  Suffering is a part of military service.  It's not all peaches and creme.  All you can do is endure it.

Did I enlist as a volunteer or was I drafted into the army of Christ?  That's something to ponder.  In a sense, I was drafted. How could I refuse?  Christ called me to duty. He choose me for service.  I had no choice but to obey the order. How could I dodge the order to serve as a soldier under the flag of the Kingdom of God?  I could've run to Canada to evade the draft. That's what some do.  They run and run from the call of duty to serve the King.

I've known people like that. I knew one man whose wife prayed and prayed. At church prayer meetings, she requested pray for him. He was retired and loved to fish. Sundays were another day to fish.  He seemed miserable to me. God's call was relentless. When the fish weren't biting, all he could do on the lake was to look at the handiwork of the Creator.  Then the Lord sent me to fish for him.  I went fishing with him.  I talked with him about a lot of things including why he was resisting the call. After many months, he said to me, "Preacher, I'm coming to church this Sunday.  Do you think the roof will fall in?"  We laughed.  The roof didn't fall in.  I kept fishing with him and for him. He kept coming to church.  He could run no longer and finally came down the aisle to dedicate himself to

Jesus!  That Sunday, I thought for sure the roof would fall in!  Instead of the roof falling in, my congregation raised the roof!  Lots of tears were shed and rejoicing reigned and especially by his wife. He became my fellow soldier.  He invited all his fishing buddies in his bass club to join him.  A few did.  Oh, and he often fished in the local monthly bass tournament.  But, he always went to church first.  After church, he fished.  Amazingly he won the tournament several times missing the prime morning fishing hours on Sunday morning.  Yea, he was drafted!

But there is an enlistment too.  He had to quit running and enlist. I enlisted to serve too.  I wanted to go.

In this spiritual warfare, my General led me into a lot of battles against the devil. I've been beat up and one time was left for dead. Some of those who I counted as comrades abandoned me. My General and a few precious soldiers, wounded like me, helped me off the field of battle and took me to the hospital tent to recover. They stayed by my side too until I was well enough to go back into the battle again.  And my General never left me either.  I still bear the scars of that battle.

I've tried to please my commanding Officer, but I have to confess.  There have been times I got entangled in civilian affairs.  Those were times when I forgot who I am.  A soldier.  I took unapproved leave time and got tangled up like my fishing line used to get tangled. Fishermen call that a bird's nest.  It's a messed up line, and I got messed up like that.

I worked to please others who I saw as significant and who could advance my standing to become a big shot.  I was miserable.  I found out the hard way that they were using me and didn't care a hoot about me.  As long as I was serving them in order to give them what they wanted which gave me the approval I desperately thought I needed, I was valued. However, the time always came when I goofed up no matter how hard I tried and was of no more use to them.  They cast me away like a trash fish. Like some old carp that wasn't worth keeping.  I'm talking about the church bureaucrats here who I did everything they wanted me to do.  It was painful when they threw me out like garbage. This suffering wasn't from the field of battle.  It was from self-inflicted wounds. I foolishly did this to myself.

I decided to re-up. My General was glad to have me back.  I was glad to be back.  I've learned my lesson.  I seek only to please my commanding Officer.

Who am I?  I am a good soldier.  I serve under His flag, His banner.  My banner is the cross. I'm marching on, marching on. For Christ, I count everything but loss   I'll toil and sing 'neath the the banner of the cross.  That's what good soldiers do. I'm a soldier and a good one at that. That's who I am!  

My Conversation with the Apostle Paul

ME:  You were a young, zealous powerful man with connections to powerful men who gave you power. You were climbing the ladder to achieve success and position. You were very popular with the power brokers and did all you could to please your supervisors and make them happy with you and your performance. 

PAUL:  Yep.  You analyzed that correctly. I had everything. I mean everything and had become everything that I had ever dreamed of from my youth to that terrifying moment on the Damascus Road where Jesus abruptly stopped me in my tracks, and I was struck blind by the brilliant light. I was driven and obsessed. I was a workaholic. I wanted to fit in with them and defend the status quo even if it meant arresting those I felt were a threat to me and my position knowing they would be executed. I wanted to be a part of the religious bureaucracy and go to the top of religious power. That was all I wanted, and all I knew. Nothing or no one would stop me from achieving my life goal. 

ME:  Wow!  You were on your way - not so much to Damascus but on your way to the pinnacles of power. Your dreams, plans, and ambitions came to a sudden stop disrupting your life and destroying it as you knew it. Heaven's light blinded you.  You went from being a powerful man to a powerless man. 

PAUL:  That was quite a blow to me. Humiliating. Three men who were going to Damascus with me had to help me to my feet. I stumbled around. I couldn't see. I was not able to confidently put one foot in front of the other. I felt I would fall. In an instant, I went from being a somebody to a nobody. I was suddenly weak, helpless, and dependent on them. I had never been dependent on anybody else in my life. 

ME:  I find it interesting that the men took you on to Damascus instead of taking you back to Jerusalem where the high priest who had authorized your mission to Damascus could help you.  

PAUL:  Jesus told me to go ahead into the city, and He would tell me what to do.  I was so confused. It was like I had no other choice but to heed what I had heard. I had doubts about going on to Damascus.  Did I really hear what I had heard or was all of this crazy? Had I lost my mind?  But my blindness confirmed that I indeed had had an encounter with Jesus.  I asked the men to take me to Damascus.  I couldn't go back to Jerusalem and back to my comfort zone.  I had no choice but to press on. I couldn't turn back.  

ME:  Ananias came looking for you.  He was scared to death of you. After all, he was one of those you came to arrest and have executed. 

PAUL:  I was blind and scared too.  I had no idea my sight would be restored. I couldn't eat or drink anything. I was so stressed not knowing what laid before me.  I had everything in my life planned out. I was living my dreams. But in my blindness, I couldn't tell day from night.  I became depressed too.  Change wasn't easy for me. 

As far is Ananias is concerned, isn't that ironic how The Lord works? Yea, he was on my arrest list.  I had a warrant for him and many others.  It took a lot of guts for him to come to me.  I think he knew he was a wanted man.  I considered him and all the Christians as a threat to me. A threat to me getting what I wanted. They were dangerous to the status quo.  I had to defend my religion and protect my position of power. The high priest gave me authority to do what I needed and wanted to do. 

ME:  That is ironic indeed. It's funny how the Lord works.  Here was a man who was powerless before you, and now Christ gave him the power to heal and restore your sight. Ananias went from powerless to powerful. You went from powerful to powerless and dependent on a man you had come to arrest. Amazing!

PAUL:  It is amazing how Jesus works.  I have found that the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength.  After The Lord through Ananias restored my sight, I was so exited to tell everyone what Christ had done to me and for me. I went to the synagogue to give my testimony. But, I was so naive.  I thought they would be excited too.  Boy, was I fooled!  They resisted me and my message. They liked the old Paul and wanted him back.  I was not expecting their reaction. I honestly thought that they too would follow Christ and accept the new me. 

ME:  I want to know how you dealt with and overcame your loss of power, purpose in life, and the prestige you had gained.  How did you come to terms with life as you knew it and wanted it.  You had everything planned out, and then BOOM.  It all changed in an instant. It collapsed like a building in an earthquake.  How did you reconstruct your life out of the ashes?

PAUL:  I was the hunter - hunting for followers of Christ, and suddenly, I became the hunted.  Some friends let me down the city wall in a basket so I could escape.  I went away for three years. To the desert.  I had to get alone and meditate.  I had to be alone to pray.  To think. I also read the scriptures - especially Isaiah.   I had lost everything that was dear to me.  I suddenly found myself as an outcast. My friends turned their backs on me. It was tough there in the desert. But, slowly and surely, the dawn arose in my heart and mind.  I began to see. It wasn't sudden like when my sight was restored.  It was like I was crawling.  Searching for answers. Trying to figure out everything that had happened to me. Trying to make sense of it all. 

I finally discovered what was most important. It was a painful, long three year process.  Christ revealed to me that my identity wasn't in power, prestige, or money. It wasn't in the position I had attained. I realized all that was dung. I was running after the wrong things. And, those things defined who I was. Christ emptied me of all that worthless stuff.  Jesus revealed that my surpassing worth is in knowing Him. To be in a love relationship with Him. Nothing else matters. This was grace, mercy, love, and forgiveness from Him. 

ME:  Do you have any regrets?  Do you miss anything about your past before Jesus intervened on the Damascus Road?  After all, you had everything going for you.  

PAUL:  The Lord Jesus revealed to me that He is my everything. My hopes and dreams are now fulfilled in and through Him. His power is made perfect in my weakness. My loss turned out to be my gain.  I gained everything when I lost it all!  I am complete in my union with Christ. I wouldn't go back to my old past life for anything. Why would I ever want to do that?  Out of His glorious riches, all my needs are supplied. I have His resurrection power.  I have prestige as His servant. I have position that He has assigned in His body, and I have treasure greater than silver and gold given to me by his abounding grace. 

ME:  Amen and amen. 

Who am I? I am a bride.

I have a hard time understanding my identity as bride. But, that's the identity Christ gives me. I have to really ponder on this one.

It's much easier for a woman who has been a bride or for a woman engaged to marry. But for me, I always identify with the groom. I've been one. Moreover, I lead the groom and groomsmen out when I officiate a wedding. Groom? Yes. Bride? No. Not me.

I guess it's hard for a woman to identify with soldier even with a co-ed military. Paul says I am a soldier.  Even though I've never been a soldier, I can still identify with soldier.  My dad was in the Air Force in World War II and Korea, and my son was in the Air Force.  Yea, I can identify with soldier.

But bride?  That's hard, but that's the identity Christ gives me.

I got to thinking about this because of a wedding I officiated Saturday.  You know, a wedding is all about the bride.  Kind of like having a baby. Us men know nothing about that.

The bride was adorned splendidly. She had the perfect dress. Her make-up was impeccable.  Her hair was perfect.  She was and is beautiful!  No wonder the groom smiled big when she began her walk down the aisle!  Joy shined from his face.  His heart skipped a beat with happiness. His one and only. I was thankful to be there to tie the knot of holy matrimony. Weddings are one of the funnest things I do.

Jesus enjoyed weddings too. At the wedding in Cana, the wine ran out. How can the party keep going with out wine?  But, there was nothing to worry about. His mother knew how to fix the problem and keep the party going. She went to her Son, and told him to keep the party going. Keep the good times rolling.  He was a little exasperated with his mom.  He wasn't ready to reveal who He really was and is.  Yet, he acquiesced and obliged her.  Man did He oblige her!  Out of those 20 large pots of water, He made about 140 gallons of wine.  Not just ordinary wine, mind you.  It was fine wine.  Better than the caterer had brought.  No doubt, the joyous reception continued on until the wee hours of the morning.  Now that's a wedding party!  Everyone happy. Maybe even a little tipsy. Joyous. What a celebration a wedding is!

Well, back to my identity as a bride.  My marriage to my Groom is a festive occasion.  I want to look splendid and all doodied up for my wedding.  I have made myself ready.

Those at the wedding rejoice. Lots of gladness at my wedding. I have been given by my Father fine linen, bright, and clean for me to wear.

I am adorned with the fine linen from my righteous acts as one of God's holy people.

And why wouldn't I want to adorn myself with righteous acts for my Groom?  To keep myself pure and spotless from the filth of the world.  The filth of immorality, dirty deeds, and to cleanse my self from all filthiness of the flesh and spirit. I've never seen a dirty or nasty bride. I've seen poor brides, but they had on their best outfit.  Nope, my Groom doesn't marry a dirty bride.  He probably would run out the door if I came down the aisle in tattered, unwashed clothes without make-up, and with her hair all gnarled in a mess.

Me?  I am clean for my Groom. I've been washed through and through. I'll make my promise  of betrothal to Him with a good conscience.   No guilt or shame can be found in me.  My Groom has forgiven my past and now accepts me for who I am.

Who am I ?  I am His bride. He has made me pure and spotless and acceptable to Him.

That's me coming down the aisle.  If you look at the platform, you will see my Groom  He's smiling.  Happiness radiates from His face.  His delight is obvious to all.

After all, I am His beloved.  He loves me enough to die for me.  He cherishes me.  He is elated over me.  He made me who I am and made me just for Himself to enjoy life with me and me with me.

So, I stand there beside Him, arm in arm, and make my vow to love and cherish Him. To honor and be faithful to Him, for richer or poorer, for better or worse, and in sickness and in health. But the really neat thing about my vow is that it's not till death do us part.  It is forever and ever!

So, I hope to see you at my wedding and the reception party that follows it.   And boy, are we going to party and eat and eat and party and dance too.  The angel band is providing the music.  The music will be heavenly.     

Let the festive party begin!  We're going to celebrate 10,000 years, and that's only the beginning!

I hope and pray you get an invitation from my Groom to attend my wedding. And, I want an invitation from Him to your wedding too!