I forget things pretty often. The filing system of my brain has a few leaks. That or the limited amount of space leads to overwriting the existing memory. On occasion it has led my wife to laugh at me. She will look at me, bewildered, and say something like, “You don’t remember….?” Absolutely nothing. Blank.
Now I am going to be honest- I forget my identity. No, not my driver’s license. I forget who I am all the time. There are so many other things going on in my life, and in the life around me, that I am caught up with them. A scan of my thoughts at any given moment would show I constantly compare (by instinct), desire, or entertain (myself and others). On occasion I will imagine, then run with my imaginings. Sometimes I write them out, other times I happily live in fantasy land. Of course I think of work at work, and my wife whenever I can, and family and friends and finances and the future. But I forget my identity.
I am a child. I am a blind man. I am a fisher of men. I am a sheep, lost without a shepherd. I am a living rock, part of a giant temple. I am a friend. I am an ambassador. I am a branch. I am a body part. I am a leader. I am alive, but I am dead.
I signed up for all of those nametags.
But I live by different labels. I am a consumer. I deserve to be entertained. I am smart. I get to live my dreams. I make money.
There is a huge chasm between the identity of me, everyday American, and that of follower of Jesus Christ. And my day cannot afford the space and time to realize the difference between the two. At least that is how it feels. Why should it? There are so many other important things to do!
Where I live there is no value for resting in God, though there is a value for leisure and laziness (if it is earned with plenty of work). Where I live, there is no value for silence. Where I live there is a constant longing for attaining happiness, but no value for being joyful and satisfied right now.
Over the past couple of weeks I have heard negative predictions about the economy, and I have been afraid. Last weekend I realized the limits of my patience with food deprivation and a lack of alone time. I have been walking with my wife through a season of mourning for jobs that never are . My whole being has been longing within me – I want more. I need more. And I go to God and tell Him everything that I want that will make my life so much better.
Funny, I have more than everything I need right here and right now. I can’t see it because it looks like less than everyone else has.
Am I still carrying that cross, the one I said I would carry when I sought Jesus to take care of me? With all that I do for myself, I forget I am carrying that cross. I died to myself. Past tense. I am part of the walking dead. It is time that I remembered who I am.