Identity as a Narrative

We know that moment when someone became "Mom" or "Dad" to us. Not when we mastered swaddling or figured out sleep schedules—but something deeper. A protective instinct we didn't know existed suddenly emerged. Identity shifted before competence ever caught up.

If you ask your child, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" try following up with, "Then what?" Because here's the truth: identity isn't a destination. It's not about arriving at a job title and stopping. It's about becoming.

Remember Israel's story? God didn't define them by their slavery in Egypt or even their wilderness wanderings. He narrated their identity through deliverance, provision, and promise. The scenic forty-year route shaped them, but it didn't disqualify them. Their identity was rooted in whose they were, not where they'd been.

Jesus knew how easily we forget this so he illustrates our belonging with a meal—something we're unlikely to naturally skip. "Do this in remembrance of me," he said, using the word anamnesis. Not a mental exercise in recalling our unworthiness, but the opposite of amnesia. Don't forget who you are.

The world offers our kids a wrestling mat where belonging depends on performance. But God is narrating something different over their lives: You are mine. You belong. You are beloved. Like the Song of Songs reminds us, "I am my beloved's and he is mine."

Maybe the story we're writing as parents isn't about getting everything right, but simply using our daily influence to reveal the Father's love. Confessing our own desires to be like Him. Naming our shortcomings. Showing them that God's strength is made perfect in weakness.

Because we're not raising finished products. We're raising works in perpetual motion, with eternity seeded in their hearts. And that's exactly how God sees us too.