Thought I was someone I used to know…Someone familiar. Predictable. Carefully constructed from habits, achievements, wounds, and the quiet stories I told myself about who I had to be to belong. I spent years polishing that version of me—making her productive, palatable, strong, and self-sufficient. She/he was impressive in the ways that earn approval. She was also exhausted. Sound familiar?

Then God started asking questions that unraveled her…

When I began to understand myself as a child of God—not metaphorically, not poetically, but personally—everything shifted. Being a child is a position, not a performance. You don’t earn it. You don’t outgrow it. You don’t lose it on your worst days. And that truth collided hard with the identity I had been trying so hard to maintain.

I realized how much of “me” was built on fear: fear of being forgotten, overlooked, unworthy. I thought I was independent, but really I was guarded. I thought I was disciplined, but often I was driven by anxiety. I thought I was strong, but I was mostly tired of holding myself together. Sound familiar?

God didn’t shame that version of me. He simply invited me deeper. Scripture talks about becoming “like children” (Mark 10:13-16 NKJV), and for a long time, I misunderstood that to mean becoming naïve or small. But childlikeness, in God’s kingdom, looks more like trust than innocence, more like dependence than weakness. A child knows where they belong. A child knows who they run to when they’re hurt. A child assumes love before proving worth. That’s what I had forgotten.

As a child of God (John 1:12 KJV), my identity stopped being something I had to assemble and started being something I could receive. I didn’t need to audition for love or justify my existence. I was already chosen. (Matt 22:14 NKJV) Already known. Already named.

And that meant some versions of me had to die. The achiever who believed rest had to be earned. The people-pleaser who confused approval with love. The self-critic who thought harshness was the same as holiness. Honestly, I mourned them because they’d helped me to survive. But they were never meant to be my home. Sometimes we stay in the valley too long — needlessly. (Psalm 23:4 NKJV)

Now, when I say “I thought I was someone I used to know,” I don’t say it with regret. I say it with gratitude. God didn’t erase me; He restored me. He stripped away the layers that weren’t rooted in truth and reminded me who I was before I learned to perform as a Christian, and IS teaching me how to really be one! I am still growing. Still unlearning. Still tempted to slip back into old identities when life feels uncertain. But I know where I belong now. Not in my resume’. Not in my reputation. Not even in my own resilience. I belong in the family of God!

And that changes everything—because children don’t have to be impressive. They just have to come home. (Luke 15:11-32 NKJV)

Thank you so much for your support and your continued readership. Have a blessed new week!

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