Who Are You?

It’s the first Sunday after Christmas. Mary is exhausted. In the last few days she and Joseph have begun adjusting to life with a newborn, and not only that but they’re doing it far away from home and without their family support system around them. Their lives have changed forever, and who they are as people have changed too. They’ve become parents. They’ve acquired new identities.

Of course, I doubt they have any inkling that they will be represented by children in nativity plays across the world over 2000 years later, or that their identities will hinge so strongly in the centuries to come on this new baby they’re getting to know, but they are experiencing a change nonetheless. And I wonder how they told their story when they went back home. I wonder what questions they were asked, and what answers they gave.

Asking and answering questions is one of the key ways we get to know others, and also how we know ourselves. We learn how to present ourselves, we learn which questions or answers tend to be received well. We shape who we are and how we think of ourselves around the things that others know or want to know about us. Identity, both your own and that of others, really matters. But how do we arrive at the one that we have? What makes us who we are?

In American culture (and many others) employment plays an enormous role in shaping a person’s identity. So much so that it can be problematic. Studies show that a significant percentage of people struggle with a sense of losing purpose or self-worth after either retirement or a job loss. We’ve somehow come to equate what we do with who we are, and build our sense of value as a person on whatever it is we do from 9 till 5. This is understandable, but not necessarily positive.

There are many other things that we use to build ourselves too. Let’s say you’ve just met someone at a party. What are some of the first things you ask them in order to get to know them: What do you do? Where do you live? Where are you from? Relationship status? What sports teams do you support? What hobbies do you have?

But imagine if all that peripheral stuff was gone. If your work, your qualifications, your things, your teams, your house, car, money, were all gone. Who would you be? Would you still be you? Would you be comfortable with being you, without all the other stuff? A thought experiment worth doing is to figure out what the biggest building block in your identity is, and to reflect on how you might cope without it.

In 2011, a book called ‘The Top Five Regrets of the Dying’, was published. You’re probably not surprised to hear that one of the top five regrets was having spent too much time working. In fact, of the five, three are focused around relationship - a regret of not putting more time or effort into maintaining or deepening close relationships. It seems that in our final moments, we are able to untangle our sense of what is important, and realise where the real treasure lies.

But perhaps the gift of the Christmas season is the invitation to reassess at an earlier point. To examine who we are, and to consider if we might shift our sense of identity. Our gospel reading, that beautiful and strange passage from John, paints a picture of Jesus’ identity as the light- and life-bringing word of God. Or you could describe Jesus as the intentions and action of God sent forth. But whatever language we use, the result is that through God coming among us in this way, our own identities are changed. We become something that we weren’t before. We become children of God.

Mary and Joseph have both been willing to say yes to their God who has asked life-changing things of them, and now they are each formed into a new identity by the child-who-is-God who needs feeding every three hours, sprays of milk like stars across his cheek. By being born, Jesus turned things upside down, making Mary and Joseph newly parents, and also newly adopted children of God through the incarnation. This tiny bundle of humanity introduced the most important relationship any of us will ever know, that of being able to draw near to our Creator who loves us as a parent loves their child.

So the truth that underpins all else is this: our identity begins and ends with being God’s child, beloved and cherished beyond reckoning. This unshakable foundation builds every aspect of who we are. Our worth is not tied to the fragility of what we achieve, own, or do; it rests in the love of God who came to be one of us, word and light in human form, and there is nothing that can change that.

But this identity also asks something of us. Our family unit is not complete yet, and it is our task to do what we can to add to our numbers. For the world is in desperate need of hope. There’s a great hunger around us for meaning, for security, for purpose in identity. There are too many people building their sense of self and worth on the wrong things, and facing crisis when those things fail. There are so many who don’t know that they are valued, who don’t know where they can find joy.

So our call is to invite. To tell our story. To respond to questions with answers that spark curiosity, and desire. To proclaim to the world our confidence in who we are, and to open the door for our neighbours to explore and experience it for themselves too.

Being children of God, welcomed through the Christ-child born at Christmas, is a great gift.

So I give you a task on this last Sunday of 2024: to share this grounding, foundational joy with others. This is an invitation to not only reshape our identity and learn to base it on our status as God’s children, but also to invite someone else you know to join the family as well.

It doesn’t have to be scary. It doesn’t have to be complicated. Just invite someone to come with you. Invite someone to see who you are. God’s light will shine through, even in our imperfections.

The shepherds left the manger glorifying and praising God. John cried out that the light was coming. So we too are witnesses to the light of Christ in the world. We too are invited to say “yes.” To live as God’s beloved children. To let His light shine through us. And to invite others to see, to wonder, and to join the family of God.

Amen.

Galatians 3:23-25; 4:4-7; John 1:1-18