Am I who I think I am?

“What kind of writing do you do?” she asks. She looks like a writer, with her hand-crafted glass necklace and her funky glasses. Quirky but interesting. Yeah, she’s legit. I’m at a writing workshop, fascinated by the guessing game I’ve played all morning. Who’s real? Who truly belongs here? Are there any other imposters?

I stammer, eventually deciding on, “I do copywriting, but primarily write non-fiction.” She nods acceptance.

Is it really that easy? And is it true? Am I a writer? Woven through every conversation at this workshop are polite questions designed to suss out how serious each person is about their craft. Can they sell it? Are they any good? But more importantly, will they see through me? Can I legitimately call myself a “writer”? Saying I’m a designer is easy. I have a framed diploma announcing my BFA in Graphic Design. But can I be a writer simply on my own say-so, simply because I know in my heart that I am?

The same could be asked about Christianity. It’s easy enough to profess one’s allegiance to Christ in a small circle of women gathered for Bible study. But what conclusion will someone draw from watching me, hearing me talk about my work, my family, and my life? And much more importantly, what conclusion does God draw from my life, from my private thoughts and behaviors? Am I truly who I profess to be? If I am, I won’t need to announce it in order for it to be true.

Learning by doing

When I was in high school, I wanted to be an architect. It was a respected career; besides, I loved the angular handwriting with the slanted horizontal letter strokes. I did all I could to prepare: took extra math and drafting classes, and attended an intensive summer workshop in architecture. That clinched it for me – the atmosphere and professors and students were so very cool, and I wanted it so badly. So I applied to only one college, the third-highest-ranking college in the U.S. for architecture, because I was so sure of where I belonged. It was great… but as the focus became more real and less abstract, it became less fun for me, until finally I knew: it wasn’t for me. I had talents, but those weren’t my strongest ones. Still, it was hard to give up the image of myself I’d created, and, perhaps more importantly, I didn’t want people to think I had failed.

Eventually, I switched to graphic design. My whole life had prepared me – the hours doodling and coloring intricate design books because I was bored, the hand-drawn type, the “newspapers” I wrote and designed to send to my pen pals. I found that my time as an architecture student was rather valuable preparation. Learning to look at things in a different way, to find out-of-the-box solutions to a given problem? I learned that in the architecture program. The math? Helpful to me as I’ve run my own business these past 14 years. No matter how much we prepare for something, though, until we actually try it, we don’t know if we can do it. Would I be a better architect or designer? I didn’t know until I actually stepped into those roles.

I’ve always thought I had very strong faith, but I also knew it had never really been put to the test. Again, I prepared diligently: I spent years praying, learning the Word, and seeking the face and heart of God. The training was there, but not the practice. Now my mom has cancer, and I have to step into a whole new role and try it out. The problem? I don’t feel like I belong there, or that I’m strong enough to stand upright, or spiritual enough to find the good in this. I’m so afraid I don’t have what it takes to allow others to see God through me as my family walks this path. I’m fearful that my weakness will make everyone think I’ve been an imposter all this time, that I’m not really what they thought I was. My eloquent prayers have evaporated and I sit in silence, not knowing what to say. I’m scared.

But, even if, to my deep disappointment, I discover that my faith is not what I thought it would be, that I’m not very strong and I’m not very sure – even if that’s true – at least I can take comfort in knowing that all my preparation is not lost. It’s still there, deep down inside. The Word is written on my heart, if I’ll only dig down deep to find it. The Lord is leaning down, reaching out His gentle hands to hold me, if only I’ll grab on to Him. Though it’s hard to believe at this moment, I think I will find that I do, in fact, have the faith I always hoped was there. I didn’t believe that even as I started writing this, but I feel God assuring me now that I do. He has already filled me with His love and His hope and His faith; it’s not about my abilities at all anymore, just His. I just have to step forward into this new role, and believe. With Him, I can be anything He wants me to be. I can do anything. Even something I really don’t want to do. Even this.