Be-Liked and beloved: Knowing my true identity

The tears spilled from my eyes as I considered the truth of her words and how they made me feel. My pastor looked at us, as she finished talking about the baptism of Jesus.

“God bestows love and pleasure on Jesus before he’d done anything miraculous,” she explained. “And in that bestowing of complete love is where Jesus’ identity is formed and strengthened, why he can obey the Father and love others so willingly, even when it puts him at risk.”

She paused, letting that truth sink in.

“The thing is,” she went on, “so many of us live the other way. We obey what we feel like God wants us to do, and that becomes our identity, leaving us hoping we’ve done enough to win God’s love and pleasure.”

My thoughts flashed back through the entirety of my life as she spoke, little scenes surfacing in my head one at a time, each instance an example of me working so hard to protect my persona of the good, happy, responsible child, grown up into a good, happy, responsible woman.

Yes, I knew this truth she spoke about. And for the most part, I believed it. In theory.

The part that was tripping me up, that was causing tears to escape from my eyes, was the phrase “with you I am well pleased.” I thought back to what a professor had said in college, a faint whisper of a smile on his grizzly face.

“Do you believe God likes you?” he asked. “Most of us believe God loves us, but simply puts up with us like a begrudging parent that’s always slightly annoyed at their child. But do you believe that God likes you?”

The truth of these phrases, that God not only loves me, but takes pleasure in me and likes being with me–before I’ve done any impressive or brave or good thing at all–is a reality that I have a hard time letting in. Although this is such good news to my exhausted heart, it feels hard to swallow, because, to some degree, I crave the sickly sweet feeling of pride, that warm swell of approval in my gut when I’ve accomplished something I think God finds impressive.

But the reality is, no matter how many really incredible sentences I write, no matter how many people I think I am more talented, or righteous, or hard-working than, there’s nothing I can do to earn God’s love for me.

I am, ever so slowly, learning that my identity is not in what I do, but in the fact that I am inherently loved. And it is only this that allows me to be like Jesus because I know that no failure or success can change who I am in God’s heart.

Knowing where my identity lies, as the be-liked, beloved child in whom God takes pleasure, I can, from this place of humility and security, enter the world, believing this is true about every person around me. That God loves us all the same, no matter what we have done or have left undone, and that love is abundantly more than we could ever imagine.

Friends, our Father is not a stern man with his stubborn arms crossed on his burly chest. No, he is a good Father with open and outstretched arms, his strong hands tearing open the heavens to come closer to his children that he loves with every ounce of his being.

May you speak the reality of your identity aloud over yourself today as a benediction: “I am God’s dearly loved child, and I bring him great joy. Before I have done anything at all.”

Scripture for meditation

"9 At that time Jesus came from Nazareth in Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. 10 Just as Jesus was coming up out of the water, he saw heaven being torn open and the Spirit descending on him like a dove. 11 And a voice came from heaven: 'You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.'" (Mark 1:9-11, NIV)

Prompts for reflection and journaling

Where are you believing the lie that you aren’t doing enough to win God’s love and pleasure?

When you hear that God loves you and takes pleasure in you just as you are, what emotions or feelings come up in you? Where are those feelings coming from?

What might change in your life if you believed God enjoyed being with you and loved you with every ounce of his love, just as you are, today?

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