Identity

Identity

What are the marks that we leave behind in people's lives that give evidence that we were there? Can we identified by the marks we leave? What kinds of things might we look for?


For the past several weeks through a sermon series at our church we have been exploring an issue of identity -- what it means to be a "Remnant" people -- something that has been central to the identity of Adventism and which finds its roots in Revelation 12:17 (a text that describes "the remnant" as those who obey God's commandments and hold to the testimony of Jesus [NIV]). I am intrigued by Julius Nam's suggestion in last week's sermon that the testimony of Jesus, and perhaps by implication the whole concept of "remnantness," is more verb than noun, a dynamic way of being rather than a static state. There is much here that resonates with me (and perhaps reflects a bit of the sense of things that I was trying to get at when trying to figure out what to say in the "about me" section on the right side of this blog page). Perhaps what actually defines us is less about a list of characteristics or qualifications, and more about the way we are and how we interact with others, with our world, or with God? Perhaps, as significant and important as they are, who we are, and perhaps the concept of "remnantness," is better defined less in terms of doctrinal statements or understandings and more in terms of "practices" (something we will explore more in future posts) and the way we are and how we live?

Other things all this gets me wondering, pondering, thinking about include . . .

• While traditionally we have often linked the Gospel and letters of John and the Book of Revelation, I wonder why we have been slower to link Jesus' definition of the commandments of God from John "Loving each other as I have loved you" with what it means to identify a group of people as those who keep God's commandments and bear testimony to Jesus? As much as I appreciate and affirm the way the ten commandments reflect the characteristics of lives lived in response to Jesus, the life that Jesus models and describes through His life, ministry and teachings, infuses this with a depth and breadth that describes much more than a list of criteria. Rather, they express a way of living and being.

• I am also intrigued about how this resonates with an earlier post which explored the ministry of John the Baptist, and the implications this might have for our understanding of the remnant. What Julius Nam suggested, using Moses interceding for his people as a model for understanding part of what lies at the heart of remnantness, is a way of thinking about the remnant that is reflected in a ministry that is not all about us, but rather focuses instead on God and others. At least part of what is so significant here is that it goes beyond the understanding of John's statement, "He must increase and I must decrease" as a powerful expression of self-forgetful humility and service (although it is certainly that) and suggests an even more fundamental shift.

• Is it possible that the tendency to be primarily concerned about whether or not we have qualified for salvation, and then living a life that faithfully reflects "being saved"-- a concern that is focused on me, my standing before God, and how well I am doing -- might actually miss, or distort, what it means to be a follower of Jesus? I still remember an Academy principle saying, "My primary goal is to get kids into heaven." But what if the real focus were less about securing personal salvation, and more about inspiring and encouraging people to embrace the life of the Kingdom -- caring for the needs of others out of a genuine love for them, and this, not in order to get into the Kingdom, but in response to God's love and grace that assures me of a place there? Does it matter if my ultimate preoccupation is focused more in the direction of wanting to be able to stand without a mediator at the end of time, or in seeking ways to serve and mediate for others in ways that reflect the values of the God's Kingdom right up to the end of time? Does being God's remnant ultimately revolve around resolving my own, and helping others resolve their own, self concerns? Might it instead be about inviting others to become a part of something that focuses on loving God and others well in a way that is self-forgetful? The example of Moses, being willing to have his own name blotted out of God's book, certainly urges us to take this dimension of things seriously!

Actually, the "good news" is that we don't have to live in the tension between the two. Both the teachings of Paul and the life and ministry of Jesus repeatedly remind us of grace -- that because God loves us, we are embraced and accepted as a part of His kingdom so that we don't have to live with, or be motivated by, the anxiety that comes from not knowing if you have made it yet or qualify, thus freeing us from the need to be preoccupied with our own standing. Then, out of gratitude for the realization of all that it means to be included by God, because we are so loved, we are able to more fully enter into the life of the Kingdom by loving and caring for others out of the overflow of grace in our lives. Still imperfect and flawed, but embraced by the love and grace of a God Who continues to love us, we learn to extend the same love and grace to others, and in doing so become changed as we come to embody more and more the life of the Kingdom. One of the insights that flows out of an appreciation for "the great controversy" theme in Adventism, is the realization that the central issue is less about us and how good we are, and much more about helping people realize how good God is. Out of this emerges a people who work and pray for God's will to be realized "on earth as it is in heaven" . . . perhaps a people who "keep the commandments of God and bear testimony to Jesus," and who may well be largely unaware of the full significance of their lives and actions, so that when Jesus is depicted as inviting them into the Kingdom in the judgment they respond with, "When did we see you hungry, thirsty, or in need?

Interestingly enough, far from what some fear might happen to those who embrace grace and thus lose the motivation of anxiety, the remnant might very well be those people who are most interested in getting involved in spiritual disciplines, pursuing spiritual practices and serving others - not in order to qualify for a place in the Kingdom, but because they are so excited about what it means to be a part of the Kingdom (and so taken with the King) that they want to sign on and live it out, working for the realization of the Kingdom in any way they can, knowing that God is with them right up to the very end.

Far from a group of uncertain or even fearful people, disengaged and perhaps even seeking to isolate themselves from their world as they wait for the end of the world, the remnant might actually turn out to be a group of people who are being transformed by grace with their sleeves rolled up and deeply invested in the lives of people around them. Might the remnant be identified as those who are living out the life of the Kingdom as they work to help others taste grace, what it means to be along side of people who reflect the thrust of the commandments of God and the testimony of Jesus, and who catch a vision of what it means to be a part of the Kingdom right now?

That would be something to be known for!

What is your name?

What is your name?

When Alex asked, oddly enough, I was somewhat at a loss for words.

We were standing on a small stretch of beach with the San Diego skyline in the background, on what was one of those picture perfect evenings. The Mesa Grande Chorale was performing that weekend with similar groups from San Diego and La Sierra Academies. Having spent the afternoon practicing for the next day’s worship service, we were gathered here by the ocean to welcome the Sabbath. I was along, mainly, because I was needed to drive the bus. But this evening, I also had the opportunity to share a few thoughts for worship.

So, sitting on the sand, we thought together for a few moments about another much older beach scene with a much different skyline, where Jesus and His disciples had once come ashore only to be greeted by at least one, maybe two, men who were struggling with some pretty significant issues. Luke describes him (Luke 8) as demon-possessed, unable to be restrained, and living in isolation among tombs.

As we thought about the story, we noticed the horrible conflict that raged within this man. He comes to Jesus because on some level he is seeking help, and yet when Jesus first speaks to him, his response is to plead with Jesus to leave him alone. Clearly there are conflicting agendas raging within this man. Then Jesus asks the question, “What is your name?” Not “what are you called?” or “What do you answer to” as names tend to be in our culture today – simply nice sounding labels -- but in the full Biblical understanding of what a name is – something that represents who you are at the core of your being. It’s as if Jesus asks him, “So, who are you, really?”

The response? “Legion,” he replied, “for we are many.”

We talked for a few moments about how, albeit on a much less dramatic level, we find ourselves so caught in the same crazy making dynamic, often being “named” or “defined” by the various roles we play, people we try to be, expectations we try to meet, that we lose track of who we really are. As my friend and mentor Chuck Miller often puts it, we cease being human beings and instead become human doings. And when someone asks us the question, “What is your name?” or “Who are you really?” . . . in our more honest moments we might find ourselves responding, “Legion, for we are many.”

We then talked for a few moments about how Jesus gave this man the gift of sending away all those other things that had sought to define him, and which masqueraded as his identity, and gave him back his name. The wonderful discovery that if we were to stop doing all the things that we think give us value, or trying to live up to all the expectations that we think make us acceptable, or attempting to internalize all the various identities we think we need to survive, that there is still someone there – someone who has a name -- that is the gift Jesus gave back to the man that night. The scriptures tell us that when the people of the village came and found the man sitting there at Jesus feet, he was in his right mind again.

I invited them to think about when the last time it was that they actually stopped long enough to consider how they might respond if Jesus asked them, “What is your name?” Or when the last time it was that they took the time to ask each other?

We prayed. We welcomed the Sabbath hours. And as we took a half hour or so to simply enjoy the peaceful beauty of the surroundings, it was then that Alex walked over to where I was standing looking at the lights on the skyline across the water, and asked, “So, pastor Ken, what is your name?”

Ironically, having just talked about all this, the question was as unanticipated as it was moving. Suddenly being acutely aware that having prepared the worship was not the same as having an answer, and realizing I wasn’t entirely sure I knew the answer, after what seemed like a very long silence, I finally said something like, “That is a very good question, thank you for asking.” We were both quiet for awhile after that – as I quietly struggled a bit with simply being a person, and the recipient of a very thoughtful question, rather than a pastor who should have been able to give a well thought out neatly packaged answer. It was actually good to be a person.

His question was a gift. I’m still thinking about it, and will be, I hope, for quite some time . . .how I tend to answer that question . . . how I would like to . . . I hope Alex will continue to develop a way of life that continues to ask that question.