Hello, I’m __________.

How do you introduce yourself when you meet someone?

If you’re like most women I know, something about what you do or who you’re in relationship with will be the first words out of your mouth. Without even thinking about it I might identify myself to a new acquaintance like this: “Hi, I’m Hilary. I’m Steve’s wife. I’m Sam and Rachel’s mom. I’m a friend of Stacey’s.”

Those words feel comfortable. They say, “I’m known, I belong.” Without even trying, I define myself by what’s familiar and socially acceptable. I’m far less comfortable with, “Hi, I’m Hilary. I’m afraid. I’m angry. I’m insecure. I’m ashamed.”

Are you defined by what you do? By what you did?

Which of the following definitions sounds familiar to you? Which of them sounds believable? Sometimes our definitions are so routine, some even sound good. But which do you wish weren’t true? Which do you keep hidden? When your heart answers the question “Who am I?” what does it say?

Are you defined by what you are? A wife, mother, friend, daughter, neighbor, victim, perpetrator.
Are you defined by what you do? Counselor, artist, runner, employee, reader, professional, drama queen, teacher, gossip, blogger.
Are you defined by what you did? Defender, bully, thief, witness, abuser, builder, liar, crusader, slut, rebel.
Are you defined by what the world sees? Blonde, fashionable, overweight, curly, straight, fit, tattooed, pierced, sexy, homeless, for sale.
Are you defined by what the world doesn’t see? Addict, cutter, screamer, adulterer, manipulator, barren, broken.
Are you defined by your adjectives? Misunderstood, truth-telling, encouraging, sweet, mouthy, determined, smart, harassed, bone-weary, rejected.

We take comfort in the identities we bear because they help us make sense of our past and our present. Our personalities are often a result of how we respond to the world around us. If I’m short, then my personality is a result of how I’ve responded to a world that identified me as short.

But is that all there is? Is who I am simply a collection of my response to what’s been done to or said about me? The enemy of our souls screams lies in our ears, and they are amplified by the voices of those around us, animated and spewing. Satan wants to name us according to our sin and our suffering. We are accused, listening to a litany of failures, and spinning tales of glory to wring redemption from our tears.

We are made for more than this.

It is in the horrific and beautiful death of a suffering Savior that our identity is formed.

When you are utterly crushed in your spirit, when the days have layered upon you and pressed you low, when sadness has settled in, when nothing you have said or done is enough, when life is only about varying degrees of pain, hope appears. It comes not in the form of seven hints for greater happiness or tips and tricks for your best life now. We’ve tried those and found them hollow. Meaning isn’t found in being smarter and stronger—in fact, it isn’t found in us or in our circumstances at all. Despite our best efforts at self-improvement, we must look outside ourselves for definition and rescue.

It is in the horrific and beautiful death of a suffering Savior that our identity is formed. When sin and death were defeated at the cross we no longer had to act on our own behalf because Jesus has already done so. Where we have sought change by starting over somewhere else or with someone else, where we have promised to do better, by his grace he transforms. When you believe this truth, who you were, what you did, and what you were called are all ultimately changed.

Because of the cross, he calls you “mine.”

Positive daily affirmations don’t silence the lies—Jesus does. He renames us, calls us his, and reminds us of our identity in him. He says the same words to us as he said to Israel, “Fear not for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name you are mine” (Isa. 43:1). We’re no longer defined by what we’ve done but by what he did. He has engraved you on the palms of his hands (Isa. 49:16), a beautiful foretelling of the cross.

Your name has been changed. You’re defined by God and his love now. Who are you? Because of the cross you are forgiven, redeemed, welcomed, loved. Because of the cross, he calls you “mine.” Because of Jesus, I’m called his. He gets glory, I get grace.