Growing up, I was always a sickly child. My parents pulled me out of school and homeschooled me from third grade all the way through high school. During my high school years, I was diagnosed with an autoimmune condition.
Growing up, I also always wanted to be thought of as “something.” Some of the people around me had great physiques and athletic prowess. Others could light up a room and make people laugh. I could read a lot of books, so putting a good deal of effort into my intellectual capabilities became my way of getting people’s acknowledgment.
When I started college, this way of obtaining my identity finally presented serious and visible consequences. I became increasingly aware that my studying and preparing for classes wasn’t at all about stewarding my God-given talents. I studied hard to get the approval of my teachers and the recognition of my peers.
Over time, this brought about my ruin. If I did well or my teachers praised me, I felt assured and my self-confidence soared. But if my performance dropped for whatever reason, I’d feel anxious and even threatened. I couldn’t enjoy my courses, even though I’d initially chosen them because I liked them and they suited my talents. Over time, the learning I had once enjoyed became a burden.
All this wrecked my health. I became far sicker than I had been in a long time. I’d taken a gap year before college, but as a result of stressing myself out for two semesters, the very real possibility of having to take another year off started to present itself.
Reorientation
Then, I made a friend in college from a different faith. Like me, her health was poor—in fact, she was much sicker than I was, with multiple health conditions that had her in and out of the hospital regularly. And like me, she’d built her identity on what society deemed good. She wanted to feel like she belonged in her family, who were all healthy people, each with multiple academic degrees. So she persisted in getting hers no matter what, even if it meant frequent visits to the ICU. But she and I believed different things.
I realized I was living off my own redemption, my own righteousness, and my own self-made blessings, and all for my own purposes.
While I was destroying my health, God had been sending warnings. This latest sickness was a warning to do more than just take care of my health and manage my stress—God was telling me to stop and reorient my life. While my friend persisted, I stopped. After much deliberation and praying, I decided taking a year off was the best decision.
I realized I was living off my own redemption, my own righteousness, and my own self-made blessings, and all for my own purposes. I was practically living like an unbeliever.
Finding Identity and Purpose
But why are was I trying to prove myself? Because I wanted to find fulfillment in life.
The world tells us we need to be wealthy, healthy, influential, and independent to find significance. It urges us to be whatever we want. But that’s not what God says. Finding true meaning in life is to know God’s purpose in my life—who I am and what he created me for, what he wants me to do—and to carry it out by his grace. What other people may think doesn’t matter.
Redefining “meaning” and shifting to find significance in God inevitably leads to rethinking how I view my condition. If I believe God predestined, chose, and knew me from before I was in my mother’s womb (Eph. 1:4–5; Pss. 22:10; 139:13–14), then he surely has specifically designed me with all the right conditions—the perfect conditions—for me to have meaning in life.
My physical condition, with all its inconveniences, hindrances, and temptations toward egocentric fulfillment, is part of God’s purposeful design for my life—it’s necessary, even, for the fulfillment of his purpose in my life. If I stop rebelling against him and trying to achieve my own agenda, and if I’m faithful in stewarding my sickness, I will have joy and fulfillment in him (Matt. 25:21).
My physical condition, with all its inconveniences, hindrances, and temptations toward egocentric fulfillment, is part of God’s purposeful design for my life.
As Christians, we all need to remind ourselves of our identity, of how we’ve been accepted by God, reconciled to him, and blessed—the whole glorious doctrine of justification. This means not having to prove ourselves anymore—not having to save ourselves.
My friend never hesitated in continuing on to her next semester. It wasn’t even a question for her. In a very real sense, her way of living would be all of ours if Christ hadn’t redeemed us (Gal. 4:8–9). We wouldn’t have a choice but to give ourselves our own identity. We wouldn’t have a choice but to carve out our own meaning in this world and carry it out. We would have felt bitter and helpless dealing with our fallen condition marked by weakness and suffering because they’re obstacles to our personal successes.
Before we do anything, we are Christ’s. We’ve been blessed—and that experience of being loved first compels us to love him back, trust him, and accept contentedly all he’s given (Job 1:21). This sets us free (John 8:32; Prov. 14:27; 19:23; Ps. 25:14).
It sets me free to enjoy my courses without any burdens. It sets me free to live life without needing to prove myself. It sets me free to make mistakes. It sets me free to respond to God without being afraid of what people think. The gospel has set me free.
The Gospel Coalition