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Who Am I?
Lindy uses John the Baptist to show us someone who was able to figure out who he was and his mission in life. Follow his example and you'll be good to go.
What is College for, Anyway?
College is for dorm life. College is for mac-n-cheese and Ramen noodles and trying not to gain the freshman 15. College is for late night talks. College is for sports. College is for gen. ed. classes and changing majors. College is for sledding down sloping, snow-packed sidewalks on trays "borrowed" from the dining commons. College is for making life-long friends. College is for lab projects and senior papers. College is for getting a degree. College is for getting an education.
And in some very big ways, college is for figuring out who you are and what you're supposed to do with your life.
Sure, high school is about discovering your identity too. So is middle school. From your earliest days of self-awareness, you're never not adding to and refining your sense of self. But in college, the pressure to define yourself feels akin to cramming for your fifth final in three days.
Getting to Know Me
The burden to "hurry up and figure yourself out" results partially from the misconception that you have to fully understand your vocational calling before you graduate. It also stems from being in a new place, among your peers, apart from your parents. Suddenly, you're given an opportunity to rethink and challenge the assumptions that people "back home" have always made about you. (Even if back home is just a few miles away.) Do you really resonate with being the bright scholar, or the class clown, or the jock? Or are those identities that you took on because of external pressure or a desire to be liked? In college, you get the chance to shed identities that don't seem to fit anymore and dig deeper within yourself to find out who you really are.
On the other hand, you might discover that things you took for granted back home are an integral part of your identity. For example, I spent the first 18 years of my life on a farm. I loved the lifestyle, but I took it for granted because I didn't have any experience outside of it.
When I went to college, I felt — really for the first time — this aspect of my uniqueness. (My dad had once told me that just two percent of American families make their living farming.) In a community of people who didn't share my experience, I discovered that being a farm kid deeply influenced my work ethic, my love for wide-open spaces and my understanding of life's vital things. Life and death. Ecological and financial stewardship. Our utter dependence on God to provide for us. It turns out that my upbringing is a huge part of my identity — both because it shaped my core values and because I choose to claim it and let it define me.
His Name was John
As I've pondered the way we understand our identities and define ourselves, I have been particularly struck by one passage of Scripture. In John 1, we meet John the Baptist. (He's not the guy that the book is named after, by the way.) Some religious leaders are asking him exactly the same question that plagues college students today: Who are you? (v. 21).
I've studied this passage over and over, and I've come to love John's answer. He really gets the identity thing. In fact, he answers the question so well that we can use his answer as a map to help lead us into a sense of self we can be comfortable with and confident in.
John Knows Who He is Not
John hits on something that's maybe a little counterintuitive here. He starts defining himself by saying who he's not. "Are you Elijah?" they want to know. Nope. Not Elijah. Well then, "Are you the Prophet?" (Deuteronomy 18:15). Negatory. Not him either.
It may seem strange, but somehow defining who you're not is sometimes easier than saying who you are. I think that's especially true for talented people who succeed at — and enjoy — nearly everything they do. If you're good at lots of things, it's sometimes hard to narrow your focus to a few things that you'll invest your life in. In that case, eliminating some options can be really helpful.
I'll never forget how I discovered this. Most of my summer jobs in high school and college involved tasks I enjoyed and was gifted at. Camp counseling. Farm work. Student life staff for a summer honors program. But one summer I was having a hard time finding a job. I got pretty desperate and took a position selling knives. (Yes, you read that correctly.) It involved cold calls and hard asks. I hated it. And I was bad at it. After a miserable couple of months, I happily gave up the sales job for a five-week stint at camp. I never looked back, except to consider this: I am not supposed to be in sales. Of any kind. Ever.
It's good to know, because it's since saved me from wasting energy and brain space considering those kinds of occupations. And in a roundabout way, it's allowed me to give more attention to the things I am made to do.
One more word about knowing who you're not: it's important in a moral sense too. God has always called His children to "come out from them and be separate" (2 Corinthians 6:17; see also Leviticus 15:31). As you're carving out a place for yourself in the world, be sure to know the things you won't associate yourself with, based on God's good commands for His people.
John Knows Who He Is in Relation to Scripture
When John finishes saying who he's not and starts telling his inquisitors who he is, he doesn't use his own words. He uses words from Scripture: "I am the voice of one calling in the desert, 'Make straight the way for the Lord'" (John 1:23; Isaiah 40:3). Now that's clout: to be able to say, "You know that guy Isaiah? Well, I'm the one he was talking about." Most of us can't make statements quite that bold. Or can we?
You know that guy David? Well, I'm the one he was talking about when he said, "I am fearfully and wonderfully made" (Psalm 139:14). And Paul? I'm the one he was talking about when he wrote, "You did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship" (Romans 8:15). And yes, it was me to whom Jesus Himself referred when He spoke to His Father about those who "are not of the world any more than I am of the world" (John 17:14).
Knowing what the Scripture says about us, individually and collectively, is one of our best defenses for times when friends or enemies, good circumstances or tragic ones, unseat our sense of identity and make it hard to remember who we are. In those times, what I think about myself is not nearly as important — or as reliable — as what Scripture reveals about me.
John Knows Who He is in Relation to Jesus
The third thing John tells those questioning him about his identity is that he is not the end-all, be-all. The point of his life is to introduce people to Someone else. Someone so incredible that John doesn't consider himself worthy to untie the man's shoes.
Of course, that Someone is Jesus. And the point of all of our lives is to love Him, to bring Him glory and to be His flesh-and-blood representatives here on earth so that others will come to know Him. If John's attitude is any example, that takes a lot of humility. (Remember, John was the one who later said, "He must become greater. I must become less" (John 3:30).)
This, in itself, is another clue for those of us who are still trying to get a handle on our identities. Sometimes, the best way to see ourselves clearly is to take our eyes off ourselves. We can get so caught up in navel-gazing that our perception of ourselves becomes distorted. But the more we gaze at Jesus, the more He gives us a perspective on who we are and what He calls us to do.
It Is Possible
C O F F E E S H O PTo many college students, it may seem that living comfortably in the same room with your own identity is something that will never happen. There's too much self-doubt. Too much confusion. Too much posturing and second-guessing. But then John comes. He comes to point us to Christ, but in doing so, he demonstrates the power and purpose that comes from knowing who God made you to be. I'm endeavoring to follow his example.
Will you?
Lindy Keffer is a contributing author for TrueU.org. She has written for a variety of organizations, including Cook Communications Ministries, Acquire the Fire, and Focus on the Family. Lindy earned a Bachelor of Arts degree in English Education from Taylor University, and she currently works with college students at the Focus on the Family Institute. Lindy lives in Colorado, and, therefore, climbs lots of mountains. She has even climbed international mountains, like Mount Kenya. We're still trying to figure out exactly which country it's located in.
"After reading 'In college you get the chance to shed identities you don't seem to fit anymore and dig deeper within yourself ...' from Lindy's article, the image of a person zipping away layers of identities came to mind. But that felt a little too sci-fi for this arena. Then I thought of the layers of an onion, the peeling aspect of fruits and vegetables, and the way you get to the goodness inside in doing so. However, we aren't just one layer, we are several layers. And sometimes the first layer that we think defines us may soon reveal we are something we never imagined. I feel John the Baptist was also a first layer in God's plan, he prepared the way, but also had to decrease so that Christ could be revealed. Happy peeling." — Luke Flowers
Image created by Luke Flowers. © 2008 Focus on the Family. All rights reserved.
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