The family of I AM
27 March 08
I’m posh. I haven’t really noticed for most of my life – most people around me were far posher – but I really am posh. I live in a city with old buildings, go out for coffee and sometimes even watch the ballet. I have a southern accent and like kayaking, camping and being outdoors. I didn’t go to a private school, but we did play lacrosse rather than hockey. To this day I’ve never raised a hockey stick in anger (although I do have bits of my teeth missing from lacrosse). I’ve even done a bit of the gap year trail.
I’ve struggled against that stereotype for years. I had a chip on my shoulder about poshness, and didn’t want anything to do with it. There was real envy in my attitude; I looked at people who didn’t seem to be struggling with the things I was struggling with, and resented them for it. And yet I still somehow managed to be posh. And being posh, at least where I grew up, is the very opposite of being cool.
The great thing that I’ve had to learn is that God doesn’t care about that. What God cares about is not how I speak or where I went to school, or even what other people might think of that, but what my heart is like and what my relationship is to him. Will I allow him to love me, and to teach me to love him in return?
The reason that God doesn’t care is that his priorities are right. No-one does humility like God does. When Jesus came to the earth, he didn’t put himself forward or demand the worship that was his by right. He was a humble man from an ordinary family. Yet Jesus’ confidence was complete and incredible, because his confidence was in his Father. His friend and disciple John reports him as saying, “Yes, you think you know me and where I’m from, but that’s not where I’m from. My true origin is in the One who sent me.” (John 7:28, The Message). The One who sent Jesus introduces himself to Moses earlier in the Bible as “I AM who I am.” (Exodus 3:14) That’s who Jesus is identifying with – he is the son of I AM. He has his Father’s DNA, and that’s what counts.
Brother Andrew once said, “Persecution simplifies faith.” The people whose stories we hear at Open Doors are from all different backgrounds. They’re individuals, with all the usual hang-ups, family situations, small joys and daily problems. Yet their faith in Jesus gets them the same treatment that he got, whatever their background or personality. It’s knowing God, being his child, having his DNA, that counts.
And that’s a huge challenge, and a huge comfort. I love that my Saviour doesn’t care where I’ve been or what I’ve done, and I’m terrified that he sees all the deepest secrets of my heart. I love that I can trust him to take me wherever he wants me to go, and I’m sometimes terrified of just what that might mean. I heard a story recently of a young woman in Egypt who was terribly treated for being a Christian. She didn’t give up. She’s an example for me and for many others.
Now in case you haven’t guessed, I’m rubbish at this. I’m human and have as fragile an ego as the next person. I love to be praised and am crushed when people think badly of me – pretty normal, really. But honestly. Who am I? I’m not any of the labels that can apply to me.
I’m a child of I AM – the one who was tortured, rejected and died on a cross.
And I’m privileged to stand with his family who are treated the same way. As, if you’re reading this, you probably are too.