In the evening.  Alone.    

When the depth of your mind isn’t occupied by the busyness of the world.  Way back.  In the attic.  Behind the cobwebs and the box that holds all your secrets.  

Who are you? Why are you here?

L wasn’t sure of the answer.  And, she admits now, maybe she still isn’t. 

“We are what we have been told about ourselves. We are the sum of the messages we have received. The true messages. The false messages.”       Donald Barthelme

It’s not easy wondering, where do I belong?  Where do I fit?  Who are my people?  Especially as a teenager.

Identity.  What’s in an identity?  Who does the world say you are?  At the base of it all.  As the building blocks of your story, your purpose, your life.  

L didn’t know the answer.  On the surface, it seemed picture perfect.  Inside, she was asking the question we all do, secretly, in the dark, when no one is looking and there’s no expectations or script to follow.

Who am I?  Why am I here?  Where do I belong?  In her box of secrets, there were other questions as well.  

Why isn’t God enough?  Does He care? Will I ever feel whole?  

She kept hearing those words, words she’s heard all her life like a record on repeat ringing through her mind.  “No, you’re not welcome here.” 

But maybe we shouldn’t start there…

With L, no picture-perfect home life or love and support from parents could ever explain who she really was.  Because as soon as she stepped out the door, her friends, her church, her community, they all told her she wasn’t welcome.   

Pouring her life into helping disabled children, church activities, youth group, she couldn’t believe God had let her down, again. Recently. Repeatedly. And not in small ways.  Finally she told Him the same thing everyone had told her.  

“Lord, you’re not welcome here.”  

Her parents have been married for forty-seven years.   Dad’s black.  Mom’s white.  And when you live in a rich white suburb in the 80’s and 90’s, there’s tension.  Constant.  No matter how much she tried to be friendly and outgoing.  

She was called “Night.”  “Oreo” came out often, they claim as a joke, but it wasn’t funny to her.  Kids would say they’d love to hang out, or even date, but their parents would never approve because of her race.  Everyone kept a safe distance.  Even her church.

Identity, it’s important to everyone.  For L, and yes, for you, dear reader.  Today, in the past, and forever more.  You are a sum of many things.  

But really, who are you?

A nurse, a mom, a cop?  A salesman, Methodist, teacher, Catholic?  Republican, Democrat, husband, Christian? Black, white, Asian?  

Stop it. Now.

None of those are who you are.  They’re labels, and just because you use them, it doesn’t mean you embody what they stand for, or what society says they mean.    

Where do you belong?  Who are your people? Why are you here? 

For a middle school girl trying to figure out life, these questions weren’t easy.  They never are.  For anyone.  For L, it was constantly magnified.   Thrown in her face.

“No, you’re not welcome here.”  

In relationships, white and black boys both shunned her.  So much so that if there ever was interest shown she jumped in with both feet, committed hard, even if she knew he wasn’t for her.  Even if he wasn’t ready, fully interested, or even available.  Even if she didn’t really like him.  

Her actions screamed, “Please, love me!  Please, make me whole!  Make me feel like I belong somewhere to someone!”

Who was she? 

She never doubted love and acceptance from her parents.  Thank God, literally, they were there.  They provided a stable home, and a Godly example.  But her need was different. She wanted to be loved, desired, sought after by someone.

There was one, in college.  She fell hard, committed.  Got engaged.  Was he even available, or serious?  She wasn’t sure.  During the engagement, she found out he cheated.  How many times she’s still not sure.  They broke it off.  A month later she miscarried his child.  She hadn’t even known she was pregnant.  Her world was crumbling.

Dance.  It had been her saving grace.  It could be her identity!  She loved it. It was her ticket.  Until it wasn’t.  Until one final injury after miscarrying the baby, and her dreams were forever shattered.

Angry.  It was the only way she could describe it.  She was so angry with God.  Which was strange because the only time she really ever felt accepted outside of her home was once a year, during high school.  The one week that she went to church camp.  Kids from all over the nation.  It brought such a mixture of people, of light and life.  She immersed herself in it.  But almost as soon as it started, it was over.  And she was back hearing the world’s voice.  

“No, you don’t belong.”

For many years she worked helping kids with disabilities.  Pouring into them, helping them belong, helping them feel connected and valued.  Why wasn’t she valued, connected, or loved?  God wasn’t pouring anything into her.  She was broken.

Enough.  She shunned God and the church.  He had thrown her away, so she was doing the same. 

“No, you’re not welcome here, Lord.”  

Off the rails.  She didn’t care.  She would find her place, or have fun trying.  Partying, men, it was crazy for about a year.  She’d find guys, connect, rely on them.  “Make me whole!  Love me!  I’m worth it.”   She was throwing herself away.

It never worked out.  Her trust was gone in everyone.  Except for one guy.  

Except for her father.  

Her dad called one night.  He had always pursued her. He hated to see her this way. “This isn’t you!  Come back.  It’s time to get on track.”  Her dad knew who she was.  She knew she could trust him.  To him she was worth it, valuable, and worthy.    A love that wasn’t conditional, negotiable, or that came and went with time and experience. We’ve already learned that, to an extent, our fathers create our perception of God.

It snapped her out of the funk.  It gave her a fresh perspective.  

Her friend, Leisl, had been bugging her to come to a Bible study.  L turned her down over and over for months.  She felt like a fraud.  Why would she go to Bible study?  Look at her life, look at who she’s been.  What she said to God.  

After the talk with her dad, she said yes.  Thank God, literally, that Leisl didn’t give up.    Thank God that her father called.  

Life!

She connected immediately.  She got involved.  The partying slowed as she felt leadership again from the inside.  She started going to church services as well.  Loved it.  Felt connected.  L credits Fellowship Church in Knoxville TN with being a real place, honest, a place where she felt welcomed, and connected. One that said yes, you belong here, for the first time in so very long.      

But she still felt the need to be made whole.  She felt the Spirit, the leadership from the inside.  But it wasn’t enough.  Why? She was still missing something, someone.  A feeling.  A yearning.  Would it ever leave?  Would God ever take it away?    

A man. Someone to share life with.   She was supposed to grow up, get married, have kids and be a wife. It was the way God created it.  

Her father called again.  His timing was perfect.  He was in Cali now.  He had his own struggles in life, feeling left out, not welcome, shunned.  But not in California.  A giant melting pot.   

“It’ll be what Heaven is like,” she likes to say.  

People from every walk of life, race, status, a true compilation of all of God’s children.  She moved there and felt so at home.  Life was a whirlwind as she threw herself into work and relationships.  She journaled and spent time with God.  Time moved quickly as she learned who she was both as a person, and in Him.  Still, the desire remained.  Disaster struck as the call from somewhere deep in her being persisted.   I need more.  

More miscarriages.  She admits, it was probably another relationship with someone who was not as committed or interested as she was.  She just wanted it to work so badly. Instead she was told by doctors she wouldn’t be able to have kids, ever.

“Lord this isn’t the way this is supposed to go!  Wife, mother, it’s what you made a woman to be.  I’m trying to follow your plan. What are you doing?”

The anger returned.  Why? And why isn’t God enough?  If He wanted her to stay single, why did she yearn so much for a partner?   

She had raised kids.  She was raising kids.  Her brother and his wife had their issues.  She had to step in to help raise their kids.  She continued and continues to help and pour into them, and other kids with disabilities as well.  

But it hasn’t been easy.  It isn’t easy now.  And she’s free to admit it might always be a struggle.  

She knows, she’s been told over and over, and she’s realized over the last few years that her identity is in God and of God.  She is a child of God.  That is her base.  That is the starting point. 

He and He alone makes her whole.  She was always meant to need, to be connected, to depend on Him.  She won’t lie, it isn’t all sunshine and rainbows as she wonders what the future holds.  

Maybe she’ll find someone, maybe she won’t.  Just because she’s filled with the Spirit of God,  it doesn’t mean she can live life with a mask and pretend she doesn’t care, or act like she wouldn’t love to be wanted and cared for by a husband.   She’s still a bit angry with the Lord, even though she tries to work past it.

One day, maybe.  Until then, she’ll continue praying for His plan.  

For now, being a ray of sunshine and positivity to those she gets to work and live with fills her days.  

There was a fraud among you, and her name is Leah R.  And though she’s not sure where the road is headed, she gives credit to the One who continued to pursue and is hopefully leading her through.  And, her parents, of course.  

Identity, it’s an important thing, and one day she does hope He blesses her with a new label to add to her Godly identity other than just His child…  

Wife.

Psalm 118:8  It is better to trust the Lord than to put confidence in man.  

Confused about your own identity, who you are, or why you’re here? Today is the first day of the rest of your life.  And we all have to start, somewhere. It’s time to give up and give in to the call of a relentless God. Leave a comment below to let us know where you’re at.

Written by: Chad Campese 

Connect with the story?  Shoot a comment to Leah.  Let her know you appreciate her sharing. 

Subscribe here so you get every new interview. And if you’ve read the book, I’d love to talk.  To share your story.  To remove the mask many of us wear through life as we head in for yet another Sunday service. Or, as some of us purposefully, and feverishly, run the opposite way.   

Chad Campese is a father, husband, police officer, blogger, and author of the book Confession of a Christian Fraud.  He holds a BA in Christian Counseling / Psychology and is heavily involved in CISM and peer support / recovery for first responders. He’s an expert in living his life and faith as a fraud and these days he simply relies on the leading of Christ as he tries to slowly and purposefully take life one day at a time.