Identity

In two weeks I will no longer be K-2 Teacher/Principal Sonya. I'll be in-between-jobs Sonya or as others might think crazy-adult-who-has-to-fundraise-her-own-salary Sonya. I say I don't mind the change but I do. I am going to really miss being a teacher. I daily have 8 students (we are a small school!) who I am privileged to help mold and form their little personalities. I love coming up with new ideas, adventures and ways to teach a lesson. For the last 4 years I have looked at the world around me and asked myself how can I teach this to my students? For three of those last 4 years I have had some of the same students. They came as little kindergarteners not knowing how to read and now they are plowing through books better than many 2nd graders. I have had them in my care more than some of their own parents! I can't imagine someone else teaching them!

I have loved sharing life with these kids.

I am glad to be going to Cambodia, for sure. Only it will be a different world from the one I have been living in for the last 4 years. It will take some time before I find my place in RAW impact and that might be a bit of a struggle, not knowing who I am or what my value is.

A few years back I was at Catalyst West Coast, a Christian conference, that year they had the theme of Identity. Phil Wickham was supposed to do a mini concert but had just been told he had an irregular issue with his left vocal cord, which kinda throws a wrench in identity with him being a musician who was in the middle of a tour. He came to the conference and couldn't talk, let alone sing. When he was to come out and sing someone else came out and read his letter to us and it struck a deep cord that needs to be re-struck. Here is what his letter said:

While leading worship last weekend on a tour through New England, my vocal cords hit a wall. I felt a drastic change in my voice, and I knew something wasn’t right. It was like a guitar with broken strings. I knew where the notes should be, but they just weren’t there. We cancelled the following shows, and I had to wait several days until I could see a doctor and get some answers.In the unknown of what was to come my reaction was one I wouldn’t have expected. I would have guessed fear, or frustration. Maybe even desperation. But it wasn’t those things. I felt lost.I realized right then how closely I tied my own worth with my voice. My worth as a provider. My worth as a leader. My worth as a person. Though now it sounds a bit melodramatic, I sat silent alone in my hotel room that night wondering, “What am I worth without a voice?” “Who am I without it?”After seeing a specialist this morning we found out there is an irregularity on my left vocal cord that was most likely caused from overuse. Thankfully, they believe we caught this early on enough that it can most likely be reversed without surgery. The only way to reverse it is total silence. No singing. No talking. The silence could be two weeks, two months, or longer.So I’ve been quiet now since Saturday, and you can imagine how the last 5 days have pretty much been just a wild series of nods, shakes, and gestures. It’s amazing how difficult it is to get the salt passed in your direction when you can’t talk.It’s also been a lot of listening. I’m starting to feel like I haven’t been listening enough because I feel like I’m hearing a lot more lately. The Lord has been speaking to me profoundly. I feel so at peace. So loved. Moments of fear are quenched with a thought of the cross. Moments of anxiety vanish in the whispers of His grace. And I am thankful for it.In light of the theme of this conference it seems a strange coincidence that I would lose the very thing I wrap my identity around. And since I don’t really believe in coincidence then maybe there’s something more here to be said. I think I’m learning something about identity, which weaves into calling which then becomes our legacy.I wonder if I have been finding my identity too much in the means and not enough in the end. I am learning that our biggest and brightest identity is one that we can’t ever lose. Voices, platforms, people, buildings, beauty, skills, relationships, Life… they can come and go. But our identity as a forgiven child of God, our identity as part of the redeemed bride of Christ. This our my capitol “I” Identity. This is the one that we will always have. This is the One that will define us forever. May we not define our worth by the praises of men, or the breadth of our influence. God defines our worth by running to us as he did the prodigal son, and wrapping us in His arms. And in this worth, in this identity we find our calling: to love Him who first loved us in such a way that it spills out of our hearts, lips, hands, and feet. In living out this calling, we have certainty that our legacy will be a joyous and eternal one. Amen!I am now literally excited, like I’m on the edge of my seat to see what God is doing and watch what HE is going to do through this time. I humbly ask for your prayers. Prayers for healing. Prayers of wisdom for the doctors. Prayers for my wife, Mallory, who has been a champion among champions in this whole situation, and for my two baby girls to help them understand why daddy can’t read them any books right now.I love you all and pray from the bottom of my heart that God fans a flame in your soul to step into your identity, chase after your calling, and leave an eternal legacy for Him. May his Spirit fall fresh and powerful upon you all. Bringing light to dark places, and water to the dry places of your souls. Grace and peace! Amen!

(article about it, or retype of letter. It is no longer available on his blog.)

I am more than a teacher, I am more than a principal. Lord, may I no longer define my worth by my identity as a small school principal and teacher. May I find my calling in Your love, You who first loved me. May I live out this love in such a way that it oozes out of me into my students for these last two weeks, and may it continue to ooze out as I move to Cambodia. May I always turn to You for my identity and may I be certain of Your calling on my life. Amen.