When I was 17 years old I was invited to lead worship for a plenary session at an academic conference. I gladly accepted, and when the time came, I ascended the platform to boldly and enthusiastically lead the congregation in worship. I had such a great time, and God moved upon us so mightily. But after the session was over, I was approached by a pastor who had attended the session. He said, “Wow! I am so impressed that you were able to lead this body of world-renowned scholars and theologians in worship without feeling even the slightest bit of intimidation!”
His words had a profound effect upon me. They were not encouraging . . . in fact, I didn’t need any encouragement at that moment. I had been so consumed with the task of leading worship that it never dawned on me that I was supposed to be effected by the stature of those I was leading in worship. But when this pastor (who had the greatest of intentions) spoke these words to me, it caused me to feel intimidation in retrospect. In my memory of the event, I found myself asking the “who am I that I should lead these people in worship” question . . . and this set me up to have a whole new set of experiences in the future.
About four years later I had moved to SoCal to attend Fuller Seminary and I was invited to lead worship at a conference for a very well-known pastor. This guy’s picture had recently been on the cover of Charisma Magazine; he was world-renowned, and I sub-consciously resolved not to make the mistake that I had made four years prior. This time I would remember to be intimidated!
The first night of the conference I was disappointed, because he wasn’t there. I was so looking forward to being intimidated by his presence. But since he wasn’t there, I decided to just be me and give it all I had. It was marvelous! I could feel the Spirit of God leading me as I lead the people. We journeyed from mountaintop to mountaintop . . . from the mountain of awe, to the mountain of reverence, to the mountain of jubilation, to the mountain of declaration . . . It was one of those times in worship that you just didn’t didn’t want to end.
But the next night the pastor was in attendance, and I finally had my opportunity to make right what went wrong when I stood before that great body of scholars and theologians some four years prior (I hope you can hear the sarcasm dripping from my words). I finally had my opportunity to stand in awe of a man, and to let that state of awe interrupt my focus upon the glory of God. And I took that opportunity and milked it for all it was worth!
I was so intimidated in his presence that I could barely pull the set together. Not only was the time a musical wreck, but there was absolutely no sense of God’s presence on what we were doing at all! We never made it to even one of the mountains that we had so effortlessly and graciously ascended the night before. The whole experience fell flat, and after it was over, I exited the platform in humiliation and took my seat.
I never heard from that pastor again, and rightly so.
What was the difference between these two experiences? In the first, I was too young to know that I was supposed to become less of myself in the presence of people that I perceive to be bigger than me. I thought I had the right to just be me, and to bring all of me to the table wherever I go. But when the pastor told me that he was impressed by my lack of intimidation, I realized that what he was saying was that I was not normal! Feeling intimidation was the normal course of experience, and I – for some reason – wanted to be normal more than I wanted to be me!
In retrospect, I began to realize that normal is overrated. I’d rather be me than to alter me in order to be like everybody else!
Intimidation is the process of becoming less of yourself in order to make room for others to become more of themselves. The experience of intimidation is based upon the fallacy that two people cannot be fully themselves in each other’s presence . . . one must become greater and the other must become less.
Once you discover who you are, you must resolve to be fully you at all times. You must not diminish your value because of your high appraisal of others. I can highly value others without devaluing myself . . . this is what it means to know your identity.
Confidence is not a sudden surge of emotional strength that has the power to overcome fear. Confidence is the absence of self-rejection and the aftermath of self-acceptance. Confidence is simply knowing who you are . . . and liking it!
But if you don’t know who you are, you are most likely identifying with someone or something that is not who you are, which is a complicated way of saying you’re trying real hard to be somebody else. And this typically takes the form of a flight from a negative and faulty assessment of yourself.
Identity is not something that you can create; it is something that God creates. Your identity is not the result of your development, or of your accomplishments, or of your effort or expertise. You are you, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You can try to change who you are, but you will only find yourself running from yourself. God created you, and you began to be you on the day that he created you.
Chasing your identity is like a dog chasing his own tail; when he catches it, he has caught himself . . . and (depending on how vigorously he has captured himself) he has probably hurt himself as well. If you are trying to find yourself, you will most likely hurt yourself when you catch yourself.
Selfhood was the first gift that God gave to humanity in the creation event. The Bible says that God formed the man out of the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living soul (nephesh). The word “soul” means life-force, or self. When God breathed his breath into Adam’s nostrils, he became a living self.
The fact is, you have never lost yourself, and so you don’t need to find yourself. You might be ignorant of yourself, but even in the midst of your self-ignorance, you continue to be you.
Losing your sense of identity is like a woman who searches tirelessly for her glasses, only to discover that she has been wearing them the whole time. You’ve been wearing you the whole time!
You don’t have to start being you, but you do have to stop trying not to be you. Discovering who you are is not about journeying far and wide to find yourself; it is about slowing down long enough to discover that you’ve been there all the time, and that you’ve never been apart from yourself.
