Who am I? Whose am I?

When I was little, my brothers told me I was adopted - and Gladys Knight was my mother. 

I am the youngest of four children. Not only the last born, but there are 16, 14, and 10 years between my siblings and me. And though I am not sure how it all started, my brothers had an elaborate tale of why I was so different. On some level, I knew it wasn't true but their game still evoked uncertainty, fear, and doubt.

Yes, they told me I was adopted and Gladys Knight was my real mother (you see my maiden name is Knight and for some reason, I found it plausible that if Gladys and I shared the same last name well then it just could be). So the story goes, Gladys Knight was my mother and the Pips were my real brothers. To this day when I hear “Midnight Train to Georgia”, I smile and whisper “hey fam”.

It never failed though, when they told me this, I believed them. I cried and ran to my mother. She would put me in her lap, console me, and convince me that I was indeed hers. If my hysteria warranted it, she would even show me a hospital bracelet out of some special box to prove she was my mother (honestly I am not sure the bracelet was even mine but never the less it worked).  

As I grew up, my brothers became mentors, confidants, and friends. Their voices are voices I trust and depend on.

However, there have been and are other voices that have tried to convince me, haunt me, and taunt me with stories about who I am and whose I am. They speak to me about my identity, a false identity. They lie.

What has been spoken over your life that caused you to wonder who you are and where you belong?

Have those voices sounded like mine with whispers and even screams of:

You have always been...a failure, a mess, a liar, an addict, shallow, selfish….

You will never be...successful, worthy, significant, loved, accepted, free…

Remember this failure....And then every failure flashes through my mind and memories.

Who do you think you are?

Remember - Don’t you forget that you are not smart, pretty, determined, capable (fill in the blank)...

Remember the terrible things that have happened to you are your fault.

You don't belong.

You will always be alone.

You will never come back from that.

You think you are gifted to do WHAT? Your dream is to be WHAT? Never

Listen to me now friends. When these voices rush in and try to remind you of what God has chosen to forget or place upon you an identity that is not yours... Punch them in the throat! Okay, no don’t punch an actual person. That wasn't what I meant. But we can take fierce authority over those lies and boldly, aggressively adhere to what is true.

Remember how strong and capable you are because of Whose you are. Remember how treasured you are because of Whose you are. Who you are is completely established by Whose you are.

There is a story I love. I’m sure you’ve heard it too. It’s about a little boy who made a toy boat with his Father. The little boy cherished that boat and played with it constantly. One day while playing with it near a stream, the little boat got caught in the current and was whisked away from the boy, into waters too deep. He followed as long as he could along the bank of that stream hoping the boat would make it close enough for him to reach it. But it was gone.

The boy was absolutely heartbroken. One day while in the town near his home, he passed by a secondhand shop. He couldn't believe what he saw for sale in the window! His boat! He ran into the store and told the shopkeeper, “Sir that is my boat. I lost it. It’s mine”. But the shopkeeper explained that someone had found it and sold it to him. If he wanted the boat he could purchase it.

The boy went home and gathered every single penny he could find. He worked and worked until he had earned enough money to buy the boat. He happily, proudly entered the shop and put the money on the counter. “Give me MY boat please”, he said. And the little boat was placed in his hands.

As the boy walked away, holding tightly to his little boat, he was heard to say, “You are twice mine. I made you AND I bought you”.

I may not be that little 4-year-old girl anymore, but when the voices cause me to question who I am and whose I am, I go to God. And there He pulls me into His lap and reminds me, “You are twice mine. I made you and I bought you.”

Oh, you make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us

You make me new,
You are making me new
You make me new,
You are making me new

Gungor