Who am I?

Part 1: The Existential Dread of the Bio

If you’ve ever had to write a "bio" for a social media profile, a job application, or a dating app, you know the specific kind of existential dread I’m talking about. You sit there, cursor blinking on a white screen, trying to condense the vast, messy, contradictory complexity of your existence into 150 characters.

Are you a "Coffee Enthusiast"? A "Digital Nomad"? A "Dog Parent"? Or perhaps you go for the classic British understated approach: "Just a guy who likes pubs and occasionally runs."

I think one of the great challenges of our era is that we are convinced, we are told that identity is something we must construct. We are told we are the architects of our own brand. We "curate" our lives, "optimise" our personalities, and "pivot" our careers. We’ve been given the absolute freedom to choose who we are, and frankly, it’s exhausting. The question "Who am I?" has become a high-stakes, full-time project that we are constantly failing to finish. We feel like if we don't define ourselves perfectly, we might actually cease to exist in the eyes of the world.

This is why the transition from the Baptism of Jesus to the calling of his disciples hits so differently. It takes the "Self-Made" myth, the idea that you are the sum of your own choices—and gently sets it on fire. It suggests that the most important thing about you isn't who you’ve chosen to be, but who you have been called to be. It moves us from a life of achievement to a life of assignment.

Part 2: The Arrow in the Dark

We start with Isaiah 49, which reads like a therapy session for someone having a massive quarter-life crisis.

The speaker in Isaiah is a "Servant." He has been "polished" and "sharpened." He clearly has potential. But he’s also deeply frustrated. He says: "I have laboured in vain; I have spent my strength for nothing at all." This is the "Side-Hustle Slump." It’s the feeling that you’ve done everything right—you got the degree, you did the internships, you did the "inner work," you even bought the expensive planner—and yet you’re still sitting in the dark, waiting for your life to actually start.

But look at how the Servant describes his identity: "Before I was born the Lord called me; from my mother’s womb he has spoken my name... In the shadow of his hand he hid me; he made me a polished arrow and concealed me in his quiver."

Notice the verbs. God called. God spoke. God hid. God made.

In our culture, "hiddenness" is seen as a failure. If you aren't "seen," if you aren't "trending," if you aren't "influencing," then you aren't really living. But in Isaiah, the hiddenness is actually a part of the identity. The arrow is in the quiver because it belongs to the Archer. It isn't lost; it’s reserved.

Your identity is not a result of your visibility. You are a "polished arrow" even when you are in the dark. You don't have to "manifest" your purpose or "find your brand" in the dark; you have to trust the One who shaped you. The Servant’s identity wasn't based on his "success" (restoring the tribes), but on his relationship to the One who called him.

God tells him: "It is too small a thing for you to be my servant to restore the tribes... I will make you a light to the Gentiles." When we choose our own identity, it’s always "too small." We choose identities based on our insecurities, our local social hierarchies, or what looks good on a LinkedIn header. But when God chooses our identity, it’s always bigger than we imagined—and it’s always based on His strength, not our "hustle."

Part 3: Behold the Lamb (and the Alpha Myth)

Fast forward to the Jordan. John the Baptist is standing there, and he sees Jesus. Now, if Jesus were following the modern "Self-Made" playbook, John would have announced him with a list of his credentials, his endorsements, and his "Most Influential" awards. He would have framed him as a "Disruptor" or a "Visionary Leader."

Instead, John says: “Behold, the Lamb of God!”

This is an identity that makes absolutely no sense in a world of "Lions." We are taught that to be "someone," you have to be fierce. You have to be the "Alpha." You have to dominate the room and "crush it." Even in our self-care, we are told to "find our inner roar." But the Messiah—the One who actually has the power to rearrange the universe, chooses the identity of a Lamb.

A lamb is vulnerable. A lamb is quiet. A lamb exists in relation to the Shepherd.

By pointing to Jesus as the Lamb, John is showing us that the truest identity is found in submission to God’s purpose, not in dominating our own. Jesus didn't come to "find himself"; he came to be who the Father called him to be. In a culture obsessed with "asserting our truth," Jesus finds his truth in being the One who lays his life down. He is the "Polished Arrow" that is finally released, and he hits the target of our redemption not by being a Lion who devours, but by being a Lamb who is devoured for us.

Part 4: Stalkers, Stayers, and the Great Question

Then we get this brilliantly awkward encounter in John 1. Two of John’s disciples start following Jesus. They’re basically stalking him down the road, probably whispering to each other, "Do we say something? No, you go first." Jesus turns around and asks the question that cuts through all our "curated" personas:

“What are you looking for?”

It’s the "Who am I?" question in disguise. Because what we look for reveals who we think we are. What do you really need?

The disciples don't have a slick, prepared answer. They say: "Rabbi, where are you staying?" They aren't looking for a "brand" to join or a philosophy to study; they are looking for a place to belong. A safe place. A Place they can be without having to perform.

Jesus doesn't give them a personality test or a five-year plan. He says: “Come and see.”

Our identity in Jesus isn't a set of rules or a new "vibe" we adopt. It’s an invitation to "stay" with him. It’s an identity found in proximity. You don't "become" a Christian by deciding to be a certain type of person; you become a Christian by staying near the One who knows who you really are. Most of our identity crises happen because we are "staying" in the wrong places—we are staying in the comments section, staying in our performance reviews, or staying in our past mistakes. Jesus invites us to stay with Him.

Part 5: The Scandal of the New Name

The climax of the story is Andrew bringing his brother Simon to Jesus. And this is where the "Identity" theme reaches its peak.

Jesus looks at Simon and says: "You are Simon son of John. You will be called Cephas" (which is translated 'Peter' or 'The Rock').

Think about how incredibly jarring that must have been for Simon. He’s lived his whole life as Simon. He’s got "Simon" on his boat, his friends call him "Si," and "Simon" is who he sees when he looks in the mirror. And this man he’s just met looks at him and says: "Actually, that’s not who you are. This is who you are."

Simon didn't "choose" to be Peter. He didn't decide that "Rock" was a better aesthetic for his brand. He didn't take a spiritual gifts inventory and decide he was "The Leader." Jesus gave him that identity. He declared it over him.

This is the central scandal of the Gospel: Jesus knows you better than you know yourself. He sees the "Rock" inside the impulsive, foot-in-mouth fisherman. He sees the "Polished Arrow" inside the person who feels like they are labouring in vain. He sees the "Beloved Child" inside the person who is trying to hustle their way into being "enough."

In our culture, being told who you are is often seen as "oppressive." We think true freedom is the ability to be anything we want at any given moment. But that kind of "freedom" is actually a prison of endless choice and constant anxiety. True freedom—the kind that actually cures existential dread is being told by the Creator of the Universe: "I know your name. I shaped your soul. And I have a purpose for you that is bigger than the one you would have chosen for yourself."

Part 6: From "Self-Made" to "Christ-Held"

When we live out of a self-chosen identity, we are always one mistake away from a total collapse. If I am "The Successful Professional," what am I when I get made redundant? If I am "The Perfect Parent," what am I when my kid struggles? If I am "The Independent Creative," what am I when the inspiration dries up?

These identities are fragile because they are built on our own performance. We have to "hold them up" every single day.

But when our identity is in Jesus, it is un-loseable. It is held by Him.

It’s the identity of the Polished Arrow: You are valuable and prepared by God, even when you feel "hidden" or unused by the world.

It’s the identity of the Lamb: You are secure enough to be vulnerable, because your worth isn't tied to your "roar" or your strength, but to His sacrifice.

It’s the identity of the Stone: You are renamed and redefined by the One who sees your future, not just your past.

Part 7: What Does This Change This Week?

So, as you walk into a week where the world will try to force you back into the "Performance" and the "Self-Construction" hustle, how do we live out of a Christ-given identity?

First, we have to surrender the "Bio." When you feel that familiar pressure to "explain" yourself, to justify your existence, or to prove your worth to a boss, a partner, or a stranger on the internet, remind yourself: "I am already known. I am already named." You don't have to sell yourself to a world that didn't create you. You belong to the One who did.

Second, we have to trust the "Quiver" seasons. If you feel like your life is "stagnant" or you're not where you thought you’d be at this age, stop fighting the hiddenness. Instead of trying to force yourself into the spotlight, ask God: "How are you polishing me right now? What are you preparing me for that I can't yet see?" Sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is stay in the quiver and wait for the Archer’s hand.

Third, we have to answer the question. When you find yourself scrolling, shopping, or over-working to fill that empty space inside, stop and hear Jesus asking: "What are you looking for?" Usually, we are looking for a sense of self. Instead of looking "out there" in the noise, try "staying" with Him. Spend five minutes in silence simply being "the one Jesus loves" before you try to be "the one who gets things done."

Finally, we have to accept the Name. You might feel like "Simon" today. messy, ordinary, a bit of a disaster. But Jesus is calling you "Peter." He sees the "Rock" in you. He sees the "Light to the Nations" in you. Start acting like the person He says you are, not the person your insecurities say you are.

The world says: "Choose yourself." Jesus says: "I chose you."

A Prayer for the Renamed

God of the Quiver and the Rock,

We confess that we are tired of trying to be our own creators. We are exhausted by the pressure to "be someone" and the constant fear that we are "no one." Forgive us for the times we have tried to write our own names and build our own kingdoms.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, That you saw us before we were born. That you have a name for us that is deeper and truer than any label we could choose. Thank you that you are the Lamb who makes it safe for us to be vulnerable.

Spirit of God, This week, when the world asks us "Who are you?", Help us to answer from the "water." Help us to remember that we are your Beloved, Polished by your hand, hidden in your grace, and ready for your timing.

Give us the courage to stop "making" ourselves, And the peace to let ourselves be "held" by You.

In the name of the One who renames the world, Amen