Identity Crisis

October 5, 2009 at 9:42 pm (Articles, Attitudes, Godly Living, Submission) (, , , , , , , , , , , )

Posted by Abigail

Identity crisisI knew that coming home from Nathaniel and Lauren’s house might be difficult. I’d been away for two weeks, basically managing another home while poor Lauren struggled to survive gestational pemphigoid. So I’d steeled myself. The truth is that God created people to leave and cleave—not to leave and come back and leave and come back. But sometimes we must stretch ourselves to serve others. Mentally I’d reminded myself that my home ran on a different schedule—not just whatever schedule I wanted to create. Like an expert pilot, I glided into the landing without a bump.

But what I hadn’t prepared for was my Mom’s homecoming. See, we’d traded places, and while she took care of my sister-in-law and nephew for a week, I ascended to the throne of Scottsburrow as Queen by proxy. When she returned a week later, it was as if Richard the Lionhearted had come home and I, the pretender, was back to the millstone. Or so it felt. Suddenly tasks I’d been successfully completing for the past three weeks were being scrutinized and redesigned. One morning, two days after her return, I broke down and started crying. “Seriously, can’t you even trust me to make a salad? I’ve been running this house for a week and you come home and act like…” Like what? Like you own the place?

I felt like a newlywed daughter when her Mom comes to visit and takes over the kitchen. Except for one problem: it was Mom’s kitchen. Not mine.

It’s a sad fact that, the older I grow, the more difficult it seems to share working space with my Mom. People who quiz me about being a grown daughter in the home or press me about being single ask all the wrong questions. Actually, I have plenty to keep me busy. And I’m not in a hurry to find a man. But sometimes, I sure would like some elbow room. And I’d like to put things where I would put them to find them, instead of having to think like someone else to find them. When my biological clock starts ticking, it almost invariably sounds like an egg-timer.

The truth is, ladies, I don’t believe it was God’s perfect intention for adult daughters to be at home. Judging from the science of the matter, I suspect His original intent was for us to marry much earlier than is the current mode. However, I know for certain that He works through our circumstances and in my case, I am quite sure that I am exactly where I should be, in obedience to Him, when I’m standing in the middle of my mother’s kitchen.

The difficulty facing me is actually not that I need my own kitchen, but that I need to be reminded of the laws of ownership.

Throughout my entire life I have struggled against the “bonds”, trying to snatch the pen to rewrite both the story and the byline. In my early teens this identity crisis took a different form as I wrestled with God over an unalterable fact: I am a woman. That might seem obvious to you, but to me it seemed an obvious mistake. What in the world was I supposed to do as a woman? Have my own cutesy little kitchen with gingham curtains? If I’d simply been given that elusive Y chromosome, I’d have been a man, able to decide my own destiny, chart a path for my own life and serve God! In fact, I knew exactly what I wanted to be! I’d have gone to the dirtiest, lowest, poorest, most violent streets and neighborhoods and poured out God’s love and truth. I would be able to give myself entirely to God!

Then one day I had the rare enlightenment that scripture and the Holy Spirit conspire to bring. “Shall the clay say to the Potter, ‘Why did you make me like this?’” In that misty, moisty morning, staring into the cool, blue sky I had an epiphany. I rephrased my wish to express the true tones behind my sentiments. “If only God had made me a man, I could really be what He wants me to be!” Actually, I could do what I want to do. A simple truth arrived home on the whisper of a fall breeze. Serving God means submission to His will.

He made me a woman. I must be the most obedient woman I can be. For now, at least, that doesn’t include street-preaching in the ghetto.

That was my identity crisis. Well, my first one. My most recent one came when my Mom arrived home to invade the cozy little nest I’d been maintaining. I’d been enjoying managing “my” home and suddenly I felt as if I’d been cast out on my ear. I didn’t fit into my own house. And just as suddenly I wanted to get out and have my own kitchen. My own laundry room. To do things my own way. And then came the despairing reminder that marriage simply transferred my allegiance. Instead of being stuck in my Mom’s kitchen, I would still be subject to some man telling me what to do and when to do it. I’d almost thought the old thought of complaint, the “I’ll never get to do things my way” thought, when the horror of my attitude bombarded me like a stampede of overweight elephants.

I despised God’s order of authority, forgetting that even Jesus was under authority. He’d praised the centurion for understanding this elusive truth. Jesus didn’t please Himself. He pleased the Father. And with that realization came the reminder of God’s authority, laid out by the pen of Paul. “Children, obey your parents.” And then, “I want you to understand that the head of every woman is a man, and the head of the man is Christ and the head of Christ is God.” Children are subject to their God-ordained authority. Women are subject to their God-ordained authority. Men are subject to their God-ordained authority. Even Christ learned obedience through the things He suffered. All things are subject to God.

I shame-facedly admit that, but for the grace of God, I’d have been a feminist. Thank You, Lord, for Your great mercy. But the fact of the matter is that when we reject any tiny part of God’s authority system or God’s creation or what God has done, we reject God’s authority over us. We deny God’s ownership of us and of all creation. Because it’s not my life that could have been so wonderful if I’d been a man—it’s God’s life that He created in a way far different than I would have. Wonderfully different. With a divine purpose that will likely keep me forever wondering. And it’s not my Mom’s kitchen—or my kitchen. It’s His. And He has put my Mom in charge of it, for now, and He has placed me under her. And someday when I have “my own” kitchen, it will still belong to Him. I will still be under His authority structure. I will still be His creation.

And in the same ponderous truth of nature that proves that life is not a totem pole but a circle, I will belong to God. And He will belong to me. In a personal way, God has promised to be my God. He will be my Creator, my Master, my King—and my authority. In my longing to have something to call “my own”, He is the only thing I can claim, and all creation belongs to Him. I just need to understand where my identity lies.

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12 Comments

  1. Sherry Berger said,

    You are a very unique woman and I can hardly wait to see what else God has for you, His servant. Meanwhile I praise God He has loaned you to us for a season. I learn much from you as I am sure many people do. As I counsel young women, my desire is that they will have an earth shaking awakening in their spirit filled with a passion to learn more about God. I am not putting you on a pedestal, that would be wrong of me to do and an unfair burden for you, however, I do believe you exhort a “servants” heart that is an example of the heart of Jesus for our young clients to “see” in their spirit. And you have the right Master in the right position of your life! Thank you for sharing your thoughts!

  2. Lauren S. said,

    I very much enjoyed this article, Abigail! Very elegantly written, and obviously with the guidance of the Lord. I can identify with wanting to have the freedoms of running my own home. There was one element in this article that I did not understand, though: “Instead of being stuck in my Mom’s kitchen, I would still be subject to some man telling me what to do and when to do it.”

    I can’t imagine a respectful Christian husband doing any such thing. I agree with the Biblical definition of submission, but it doesn’t mean that as wives, we’ll be ordered about and have no say in decisions. On the contrary; in our own homes, we’ll have our laundry rooms and kitchens according to what we and our husbands agree upon, so that each party is satisfied with the arrangement. I’m sorry if the above is an inaccurate interpretation of your thoughts; I just disagree with the model of submission that you described.

    Your sister in Christ

    • Pearls and Diamonds said,

      Lauren (I did a double take when I saw your name…:))
      You are absolutely right about the nature of godly submission! My intent was to express my ungodly attitude toward God’s authority structure–you see, when I find myself struggling with rebellion, I usually discover that I am also distorting the very thing I am rebelling against. My parent’s authority is not oppressive, but when I am feeling rebellious, I often perceive it as such. In the same way, a godly man’s authority is not oppressive, but in true feministic spirit, my perception is that I want things my way–and an authority is oppressive since it is someone to whom I defer. Hopefully that clarifies! Sorry for the confusion!

      • Lauren S. said,

        I understand what you were saying, now. Thank you for clarifying!

        P.S. Oh, and you know what else is a funny little coincidence? Lauren and I have the same birthday, Nov. 12, but she was born nine years earlier than I. I though that was pretty cool. 🙂

      • Pearls and Diamonds said,

        Lauren S., this is the other Lauren S. 🙂 That is a funny little coincidence! I’m glad to share a birthday with you!

  3. Sally said,

    I came over here from a link to your wonderful chicken story below. I had to laugh as I read this entry (above) — I could have written it (albeit not nearly as well!). This is going in my “To Read in Jr High and High School” file for my girls. Excellent. Thank you.

  4. åslaug abigail said,

    I loved this one, abigail =) I know what it’s like to be in my mom’s kitchen… Thanks for being so encouraging, I was planning to write you back in an email, but I seem to have lost your email address, so if you’d be so kind..?

    God bless you,
    cheering you on in being a
    Christlike and obedient
    young woman in this world!!

    åslaug

    • Pearls and Diamonds said,

      Hi Abigail! It’s been a little while, eh? You can e-mail me at pearlsanddiamondsblog (at) gmail (dot) com. 🙂

      Abigail @ Pearls and Diamonds

  5. Melody said,

    I really related to this article, Abigail. You are such a good writer – I love the egg-timer line! I had a similar experience when I moved back home at 27 after living mostly on my own (and overseas for half the time) since I was 18. I understand the desire to have “my own kitchen” and home. I appreciate your insight that adult daughters living at home is probably not an ideal situation, but one of the less-than-ideal circumstances that God uses to sanctify us. It seems that God uses the waiting periods to change our desires and attitudes before he reveals what he has in store for us. I know that without those years of waiting, I wouldn’t appreciate my kitchen now (curtains and all!) nearly as much! Thanks for sharing your heart.

  6. Anna Lofgren said,

    I haven’t been on your blog in a while (so much else to do!), but this post really touched me when I clicked on your site today. I struggle with wanting to do things “my” way at home, since it’s so much better – in my eyes. I long for the day when I’ll have my own house to do things how I like them. But, for now, I must be content in the place I am and learn to work with and respect my mom’s ways.

    Thanks for sharing your heart! It was what I needed tonight!

  7. Miss Jocelyn said,

    Thank you for this wonderful post, and thank you for be apart of the Feelin’ Feminine blogroll. This article has been selected for our Bosom Friends column this month! You can find it here http://feelinfeminine.com/?p=2362

  8. Abigail Fox said,

    What a conviction this brought to my heart! Now that I have finished weeping in repentence, I wanted to write and thank you for sharing this. Whenever I get on here and read,I am convicted and encouraged. Thank you!

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