Like most people, my identity was based on a role, title or job. I identified myself based on what I was told, what I was called and who I’d proven myself to be.  I measured my worth based on the opinions, labels and stereotypes set by others.  It shaped my perception of what was considered good, bad, beautiful, fashionable and so forth.  The labels formed my thought-patterns and self-talk. They stuck to me, like those big orange ‘No Parking Violation” stickers, with thick adhesive: 

When I tried to detach the labels from my identity, I was left with a sticky, messy residue on my windshield of life.  Residue lingered from the childhood molestation, toxic relationships and false identities.  Over the years, my identification became a breeding ground for abuse (abnormal use) and negativity. I allowed every opinion to stick to me.  

I was too light, too dark, too fat, too short, too mean, too sensitive – I ate the bitter crumbs of day-old bread. I took to heart the words of flawed people and fell under the spell of manipulation: giving away more of myself than what was deserved. I shouldered offenses and responsibilities that weren’t mines to bear.  My fear of abandonment caused me to compromise my uniqueness and cling to dysfunctional friendships for years.  Sadly,  I muted my inner voice that spoke truth. My need to belong became more powerful than truth.

In some situations, people saw my physical external features as an indication that my internal emotional being was great. It was hard to believe that I could suffer from low self-esteem. Quick observations deemed me as snobby, high maintenance, competition and a threat; but what I craved was friendship, conversation or mentor-ship.  My insecurities and inadequacies were dismissed; which fueled my fears of rejection. 

I appeared strong outwardly, but the betrayal committed under the veil of friendship rocked me. Conundrums made it seem like I could defend myself; but the truth was – I needed defending.  I walked around like an emotional bag of mixed marbles because I knew what others didn’t know about me: I was broken. 

Who was I beneath the superficial personas and ideologies? With those stripped away, I had to dig deep to find out. My true identity was buried beneath a junkyard of lies.  Like a lighthouse in the dark, Truth beckoned me to keep digging through the rocky and hard layers. I was searching for my voice, my validation and my victory. It was a muddy mess of self-hatred and denial; but I kept plowing until I hit gold! 

At first it was hard to recognize God’s treasured possession (Deut 14:2b); there were so many broken pieces and sharp edges mixed in the rubbish. Underneath the soil of life, I discovered my buried treasures of potential and opportunities.  There were Divine deposits of talents, gifts and callings. It’s not that I wasn’t valuable, I’d just dumped trash on the buried treasures. As I discovered the beautiful gems of myself, my voice of truth spoke louder. 

I learned not to put the WHOLE of my identity into the smallness of situations: some situations just aren’t defining moments of my identity. Moments shift, people are fickle and everything just isn’t what it appears to be.  I spoke words of love and affirmation; decreeing WHOLENESS over my life and identity. Some days were successful and others weren’t – but I never stopped. It is my daily practice. 

Each day I wake up with another chance to discover all God has placed inside of me.  Each season brings a revelation of new treasures and the opportunity to rediscovery my true identity. Beneath all the junk lies a chest of hidden and buried treasures.

I implore you to dig with me and let’s crown ourselves with our true Royal identities and worth.