Who Am I?

By Rev. Harrison Goodman

It seems like a simple question. It should have a simple answer. It doesn’t. I can tell you who I’m expected to be. I can imagine who I want to be. The problem is that I’m neither of those things. Reality doesn’t seem to match up with expectation. That makes a simple little question a lot tougher. Who am I? Where do I fit? How can I be loved?

The answer I always hear in movies and after-school specials is “Just be yourself.” Have you ever noticed that the people telling you to “just be yourself” don’t seem to have your problems? It’s great for Taylor Swift to be herself. She’s rich, famous, attractive, and popular. I’m honestly happy for those people, but I have tried to be myself. That was the whole problem.

As a Christian, my understanding of who I am makes that advice even more problematic. Just be yourself. Jesus said “What comes out of a person is what defiles him…evil things come from within. (Mark 7)” If you’re asking me to be myself, you’re really just asking me to sin. I’ll enjoy it, but I’m not sure it will be helpful.

Even the secular crowd gets that, though. That’s why there’s a second unspoken part of “Be yourself.” Be yourself, but better. And if you can’t be better, at least tell yourself you are. The name for it is self-esteem. The problem is, most of us struggle with it.

The reason we struggle with selfesteem is because it’s all law. The burden is entirely on us. That burden gets really heavy when every failure and insult are heaped on an already confusing struggle with identity. The problem with self-esteem is that the law can’t save us. Only the gospel can do that. All law and no gospel can only leave us in one of two places. Arrogance or despair. Jesus told a parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and treated others with contempt.

“Two men went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayed thus: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.’ But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven.” (Luke 18:9-13)

We all know someone like the Pharisee. He thinks way too much of himself. He definitely has self-esteem— he just has too much. It’s called arrogance. It happens when we believe we’re better than we actually are. It usually happens when we lower our standards until the law isn’t so heavy anymore. If there’s no gospel to forgive sins, we need a law that won’t actually convict us. Instead of looking at the fullness of God’s Word, the Pharisee just looks to himself and sets the standard to something achievable. The problem with a sliding morality that never convicts us is that it’s only really good for looking down on someone else. Arrogance is easy to hate.

The tax collector sees every bit of the law. He’s honest about it. It has crushed him. He can’t even lift his eyes up to heaven. He has bad self-esteem. We all know someone with too much self-esteem, and chances are we know someone with next to none, too. As different as they seem from each other, they actually have something in common. They’re both only looking at themselves.

But here’s the important part. Selfesteem is a lie. It’s a demonic concept. The tax collector isn’t saved by improving his self-esteem. Jesus finishes the parable by saying, “the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other.” The tax collector doesn’t find hope in self-esteem but in mercy. Mercy is a Gospel word. Mercy is a Jesus-for-sinners word. Jesus loves you no matter what you think of yourself.

The idea that we’re supposed to find some magical balance of not thinking too little of ourselves, and not thinking too much of ourselves, and then maintain it in the face of the devil, the world, and our own sinful flesh is insane. It’s why the concept of selfesteem isn’t in the Scriptures, which aren’t about you, or even how you’re supposed to feel about yourself. The Bible is more than just the Law. It’s also the Gospel. The Bible is about Jesus, for you.

Who am I? I’m not just the sum of my actions, or even what I think of myself. I have worth, not because I earned it, but because I was bought with a price—not just gold or silver, but the holy, precious blood and the innocent suffering and death of Jesus. Who am I? I am a sinner for whom Jesus died. I am what Christ has named me. I am baptized.

This isn’t a “Go tell those mean kids your baptized, and they’ll stop making fun of you” solution. It’s a promise that if the whole world screams insults at you, Christ’s promise to you is still louder. It is finished. You are forgiven, saved, precious and holy. His promise, delivered to you in your baptism, is a promise so strong that it ties you to life everlasting on the other side of the grave. That’s a promise strong enough to endure. That’s an identity that we wear today, tomorrow, and every day until the last. I am baptized, a member of the Body of Christ— knit together, not by works, but by a love so powerful that it joins sinners together, forgives them, and then conquers death. When I don’t know who I am, Christ answers: You’re baptized.

Rev. Harrison Goodman serves as pastor at St. Paul Lutheran Church in Carroll, Nebraska. He taught a sectional on this subject at the Ft. Collins, Colorado conference this summer.