BEING THE BELOVED
In the Song of Solomon, we read:
“Catch for us the little foxes,
the little foxes that spoil the vineyards,
for our vineyards are in bloom.
My Beloved is mine, and I am His.”
Now, years ago, I remember pouring out my angsty, troubled, teenage soul to a wise, elderly, black woman who attended our church in Santa Rosa, California. Her name was Esther, and she was either widowed or divorced, and had, in consequence, raised her children with only God the Father as her co-parent. On this day, I was enumerating all my problems to her, and she said something to the effect of “you know, Jane, those problems are little foxes.” She went on to quote the whole verse from the Song of Solomon and to talk about how the enemy of our souls seeks to harass and damage the beautiful vineyards of our lives with the little foxes of difficulty and strife. This is one of the first times I remember hearing the Song of Solomon interpreted allegorically, and Esther’s interpretation has stayed with me a long time.
Yesterday, the verse came to me again as I was meditating on identity. It struck me that the bride from the Song of Solomon does not see her identity primarily in terms of her education or her vocation, but in terms of her relationship to the one she loves who loves her in return: “My Beloved is mine, and I am His.” She has a strong sense of mutual belonging, and from within the safety of a sacred love, she lives and moves and has her being. She loves and is beloved.
Then I began to think about how differently identity formation works for so many of us in this life.
SIN
Most of us have experienced the effects of sin on our souls. One of the most devastating effects is on our identity, on our understanding of our selves. Sin is so powerful that sometimes it begins to define who we are. Sometimes it is specifically the sin of others that damages us.
Just this past weekend, I met with a woman who was devastated by sexual abuse and incest when she was very young. She drove all the way from Michigan to Illinois to meet with me, having learned about my JSASSN ministry from her daughter and the JSASSN website. We talked for a couple of hours, and one of the things she said was that this terrible experience of abuse has prevented her all her life from feeling like she was good, from feeling like she could have real intimacy with God, and from feeling like she is loved. As a pastor’s wife on the verge of turning fifty, she believes intellectually that she is loved by God, but she’s been praying that God would move that knowledge down from her mind and into the depths of her heart so that it might suffuse her whole being.
I know that the sin of others can damage our identity as the Beloved. As Esther said to me years ago, the sins of others can be like little foxes. Those sins can steal our joy and make us believe lies about who we really are. So can our own sins.
When other people sin against us, when they hurt and damage our souls, whether purposefully accidentally, we are become vulnerable: able to be wounded. So often, I find, the places in our lives where we have been hurt are closely related to the sins that we commit. Our own sins further ground us in a shame-based identity that we hate. Sometimes sin is so powerful in our lives and in our world that the mere temptation to sin begins to define us.
Recently, one of my dear students at the small, private, Christian liberal arts college where I teach wrote an essay about being gay on our campus. He is a thoughtful young man, intelligent and gifted, sensitive and moral. His essay revealed how he sees his identity. Because he experiences attraction to other men, even though he does not act on his attraction, he believes that he is gay. When I read what he wrote, I thought: the temptation to sin should not define our identity. If I derived my sense of identity from my temptations, how devastated I would be! No, it is not being tempted or even acting on temptations that makes us who we are. While no Christian can deny that we have a sin nature and that we are, in fact, sinners, sin does not define us. Life is not about being sinners. It is about being the Beloved.
In his first letter to the church at Corinth, Paul makes a long list of sins that members of the church previously engaged in, including sexual immorality, idolatry, adultery, homosexuality, thievery, greed, and drunkenness, among others things. Then he says: “And that is what some of you were.” Were! He uses the past tense of the verb to emphasize that the sin and the shame-based identity are in the past. Paul goes on to say, “But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God” (1 Cor. 6:11).
SOCIETY
It is not just sin that attempts to get such a strong hold on us that it defines who we are. The society we live in does the same. The people we are around name us in various ways, sometimes in ways that make us feel bad, but often times in ways that make us feel quite good.
For example, I teach at a college where people often ask each other, when they first meet, the following two questions: “What is your major?” and “What do you want to do with that when you graduate?” These questions are an entryway into getting to know the other person. There is nothing wrong with these questions in themselves. Certainly I’ve asked these questions any times because I am a teacher, and I want to foster my students’ current education and future dreams.
But because these questions are asked repeatedly, sometimes students start to get that feeling that who they are is based on what they study, their accomplishments in their field, and the grandiose nature of their future plans for great jobs, effective ministries, and, as the cliché goes, a white picket fence with a happy spouse, 2.5 children, and loyal dog. Faculty are at least ten times worse than the students because they have been members of academic society for a longer period of time. The questions they ask and answer are even more heavily inflected with expectation of success and judgment of failure.
The result for students and teachers is often a profound sense of inadequacy. Worse yet, people moving in the academic realm begin to base their sense of identity and sense of self-worth on transitory kudos. They begin to believe that they must work to be praised and that somehow that praise will make them good and may even result in their being loved. The whole dynamic is extremely unhealthy. But it is very common.
I think people develop a strong yearning to get rid of the shame-based identity that sin has imposed on them in favor of a success-based identity that academic society can give. But this is just replacing one merciless taskmaster with another. The soul, whether under the weight of shame or the weight of success, is still withering because the soul still desires to be the Beloved.
When identity is success-based, when that success is a desperate attempt to compensate for sins that have damaged the soul, people begin to hide as many of the unattractive parts of themselves as possible. We don’t want other people to know about our brokenness, our weakness, our shame. We fear rejection. The thought of rejection is terrifying, especially since our soul is still longing to be the Beloved. Even when people try to love us, when we have attempted to substitute a success-based identity for a shame-based one, we cannot receive the love that is offered. We can’t receive it because we believe that our true selves are not what is being loved, only the façade we have presented to the world. No one truly knows us. We believe if they did, no one would truly love us.
The silent and unseen devastation of success-based identity cannot be overstated. In truth, it absolutely damages the soul and leaves people feeling isolated and unloved. It was never what God intended for us. It is not our destiny in eternity. Both now and in times to come, God wants us to know that we are the Beloved.
SELF
The war between shame-based identity and success-based identity is constantly being mediated by the self. The self becomes the ambassador between the two opposing camps. The self tries to choose how to define itself, but the self is very weak.
How can we ourselves choose our identities rightly when it is our selves, our very souls, that have been attacked by both of the armies we are trying to force to agree to a peace treaty? It is impossible. After the first Persian Gulf War in the 1990s, no one expected Kuwait to be the primary mediator in the negotiations between Iraq and the United States. Why would we expect our souls to be able to negotiate the boundaries, the expectations, between shame and success?
There is only one person who can effectively define us: the Spirit of the Living God.
SPIRIT
In the Gospels, we read that when Jesus was about to be baptized, heaven opened up and the Spirit descended upon him in the form of a dove. The voice of God the Father then proclaimed from above, “This is my Son, whom I love; in him, I am well pleased.” As Henry Nouwen has pointed out, Jesus had not yet done anything on earth to earn the approval of the Father. He had not yet fed the 5000. He has not yet raised Lazarus or Talitha from the dead. He had not yet gone to the Cross to suffer and die and redeem all of humanity from the power of sin. Yet God loved him, and He was pleased with him.
Jesus was the Beloved.
I believe that when God looks at us, He sees us, and He knows us, but our identity in his eyes is not primarily about our sin and shame or our success and social standing. He loves us because He made us, and we are his. If only we could realize, in the deep heart’s core, that He is ours, our identity would be transformed.
Then we could live all our lives knowing that we are the Beloved at all times.
Jane Beal