A Sure Identity

There's been plenty of talk about how people choose to identify themselves. There's some drastic measures being taken to accommodate the changing culture. To be honest, I was outraged when I heard that any man -for any reason- can join my daughters and me in the ladies' room without questions being asked. Once I cooled off a bit, the Lord so faithfully reminded me of my own identity issues I've struggled with. I'm thankful that so often when I get upset about other people's decisions or certain situations, the Holy Spirit is faithful to remind me that I was once an enemy of God. And that I still fall so short from looking like Jesus.

But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, 

Christ died for us.

Romans 5:8

A few years ago, we were missionaries living in a hut down a dirt road in Uganda. We ate bugs. We were all in. The entire time we lived in Uganda, we were treated like missionaries by Ugandans and Americans alike. Some Ugandans treated us special because of where we had come from. Some Americans treated us special because of where we had been. Jesus didn't ever call me an American or a missionary. He called me His daughter. All that time, I knew in my heart that I wasn't a missionary. I was a Christian. But coming to America would test that identity.

When we moved to America, Jesus planted us in a place where we knew no one, and no one knew us or ever even heard of us. I wanted to talk about Uganda since it was all so raw. I wanted to say goodmorning to my neighbors in Acholi. I didn't drive on the California freeway for six months because I had to re-learn how to drive. I didn't get a haircut for a year because it just felt wrong to be so pampered. Emotionally, we all were basically fine and adjusting well. But there were little things like doggy day care that made me crazy. (I'm not picking on you if you send your dog there... It was just the ultimate shocker.) All that said, we were surrounded by people who had no idea what we were talking about when we mentioned the pit latrine or the borehole or the parasites we were fighting in our guts. Looking back, I know Jesus set us up. It was time to move on.

The circumstances Jesus allows in our lives will impact how we react to different aspects of life, but will never change who we are in our Father's eyes.

But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right 

to become children of God, to those who believe in His name. 

John 1:12

These days, life looks much different, but temptations remain the same. No matter where I go with my children, I am literally gawked at and interrogated about the number of children that follow me like ducklings (on a good day) and call me Mommy. To be honest, I love the shock factor. It's like handing me a microphone to tell that person about my Jesus. Those wide eyes from the mom wrangling in her two year old cowboy. "How do you do it?!" Or the big smiles from the older-than-me crowd as they remember being one of the ducklings themselves. "You've got a big responsibility," they remind my oldest son.

"Are they all yours?!"
"Same mom, same dad?"
"How old are YOU?"
"Do you have any pictures of you not pregnant?"
"You must be exhausted..."
"I'm exhausted just looking at you..."
"And you're smiling?"
"One, two, three, four, five, six... Seven?!"
"Are you Mormon or Christian?"

"How many cycles did you have between these two?" (No joke. A stranger really asked that!)
"Do you homeschool?"
"Do you call them by number?"
"Are these ones twins? ... How about these ones? ... No twins?"
"What are all their ages?"
"Can I have one?"

We've heard it all. Every single time we go out anywhere. It's become normal to me to have complete strangers ask me some pretty personal questions. Since the Lord recently challenged me about my identity and sufficiency in Him alone, I have recognized the temptation to allow the role of a mom-of-many... or even the role of being a mother at all... to define me. Being a mom is my full time, 24 hour job. One day it won't be though.

Training children and managing a home with nine people under one roof- or more, if the Lord allows- has impacted that way I view lots of aspects of life. It has not changed who I am in Christ though. I am a Christian. I follow Christ. My hope is that my heart is resting solely in Christ as my firm foundation, and not the service I offer Him or the role I play in His Kingdom. That when this ministry of raising children comes to an end, I won't feel empty or lost since it's all I will have known for 30 years. It's not who I am. It's just what I do these days. I am a Christian. A Christ-follower. Dead to me, alive in Him. Nothing more or less. In this, there is contentment, joy, and peace.