It is no accident that the question of identity is a central battleground in our culture. We have become a people who believe our identity is as malleable as our moods, where the only rules are what we feel will bring us happiness.

The trouble with that is, of course, that it’s wrong. But it’s not wrong like putting fish on pizza is wrong (apologies to any anchovy fans out there). And it’s not wrong like calling someone Thomas when his name is actually Robert. This is “I bet I can beat that train if I slam down on the gas” wrong. In other words, it’s not an “oops” or a matter of preference. It’s the kind of wrong with sirens at its end.

Our beliefs about ourselves have a lot to do with who we will become. And who we believe we are has a lot to do with Who we believe is on the throne.

The Bible has a lot to say about our identity – that we are made in the image of our creator (Gen. 1:26-27), that we were made for a purpose (Eph. 2:10), that, as believers, it is no longer we who live but Christ who lives in us (Gal. 2:20).

We believe that God is on the throne and has the authority to define our identity. Our identity is found in Christ, and it is our mission to become more like Him.

When we replace that identity with something else, we simultaneously reject God’s authority. And that has predictable consequences – not because God is waiting to drop the hammer on you, but because God’s authority is a fundamental fact of creation, and rejecting it is like rejecting gravity.

So, what does all this have to do with trauma?

There is a strong temptation to wrap our identity up in our sufferings. Suffering can seem all-consuming, affecting every part of us to a degree that it can seem inextricable from who we are. I don’t just have wounds, I am wounded. I don’t just struggle with depression, I am depressed. I don’t just struggle with anxiety, I am an anxious person.

Some of that can just be semantics, sure. But it can easily become more than that – and our culture pushes hard to turn your struggles into your diagnosis, which becomes your label, which can easily become your identity.

When that happens, we stop trying to get to the root of the problem and start trying to cope with the symptoms. We stop turning to repentance and instead cling to excuses. We stop seeking victory and raise the white flag in surrender.

But if our identity is Christ and what he has determined to be true about us, then “coping” looks like life, and life is more abundant in Him. We lean on the reality of His Word, stand on His promises, and find refuge in His strength.