Di Bassinga Diaries: The Identity Constraint
- Kevin Di Bassinga
- Jun 5, 2024
- 9 min read
“If one ventures a word with you, will you be impatient? Yet who can keep from speaking? Behold, you have instructed many, and you have strengthened the weak hands. Your words have upheld him who was stumbling, and you have made firm the feeble knees. But now it has come to you, and you are impatient; it touches you, and you are dismayed. Is not your fear of God your confidence, and the integrity of your ways your hope?” (Job 4:2-6)
If you’re doing things the right way, giving your all, and praying to the Lord, what reasons do you have to worry? This fear and fatigue you’ve felt is a byproduct of your lack of faithful activity. You’re marching along by yourself, without prayer or any strong, respectable effort, and you find ways to complain that life is hard—you who once looked difficultly in the face as though it were a weary challenger. Let your fear of God, and relationship with Him, be your confidence; let the integrity of your ways, the steadfastness and perseverance, be your hope.
That quoted scripture comes from a section in the book of Job in which Job's friends (Eliphaz in this case) begin to lay out what they believe to be the reason God took from Job. In the end, the Lord asserts that each of them were wrong in the end; but I can't help but find a bit of good in what was ultimately a failed attempt at consoling a friend. I read chapters 4 and 5, and it appears to me that Eliphaz makes some solid points—things to think about, as the very least—and theme that sticks out to me about these chapters is this: There ought to be security in our identities.
The italicized paragraph above is a note I wrote to myself while reading through these chapters the first time. There's a lot that goes into those thoughts and into what I'm writing about: humility and relationship above all else; when both of these are solidified in Christ, we begin to develop a God-centered identity. And when our identity is found in Christ, we can walk with greater confidence. With greater confidence comes greater faith (though, ideally faith comes first), and with greater faith comes bolder action. Finally, bolder action begets miracles, signs, and wonders—and, more importantly, a greater level of gratitude, zeal, and endurance. At the end of the day, our ability to act in the name of Jesus is strongly dependent upon where our identity is placed; this is the "identity constraint." Let me break this down.
Identity Matters
"Either make the tree good and its fruit good, or make the tree bad and its fruit bad, for the tree is known by its fruit." (Matthew 12:33)
"The good person out of the good treasure of his heart produces good, and the evil person out of his evil treasure produces evil, for out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks." (Luke 6:45)
Identity has everything to do with the way we see ourselves, and the way we see ourselves dictates the way we interact with the world. This is true whether or not we could lay our identity out in words—everything about identity operates "underneath." Underneath all the noise, the jokes and stories we tell, the way we relate to opportunities, and the way we relate to people is a silent story that we are constantly telling ourselves and constantly revalidating with each new experience. For example, someone who is very anxious about what others think of them will constantly be checking in with small but potentially self-deprecating comments—pay attention to it in yourself.
Identity matters because it's the source through which we live our lives. It's not enough to just have 'an' identity, though. The word itself isn't inherently positive, it's a neutral truth—we all have an identity, but positivity and negativity come from where the identity is placed. The most positive place you could put your identity, in my experience, is in Christ and what the Word says about you. This is where, even when ultimately short-sighted, Eliphaz could have encouraged Job (he instead asserted that Job was in wrong-standing). "Is not your fear of God your confidence, and the integrity of your ways your hope?" In the end, these actually were the things that counted for Job in God's sight (42:7). When tempted to believe that God was punishing him for some wrongdoing or fault of character, Job asserted that he was right with God (13)—and he was according to God (1:8)—when tested he remained firm. This is the beauty of an identity founded in God. But how does the "constraint" come in?
Just as much as we are empowered by our identities, we can be hindered by them. This is the importance of setting our identities in Christ. Think back to who you were before you found Jesus while I tell a story about who I was.
The Object of My Affection
"Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up treasures for yourselves treasures in heaven where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." (Matthew 6:19-21)
"Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me." (Philippians 4:11-13)
I think back to my relationship with basketball a lot, and I write about it a lot, because for most of my life it was the most important thing to me. On its own, basketball is a beautiful thing. At its best, it was a solid outlet for me to compete, to challenge myself, or to just have fun; at its worst, though, it was a loud reminder that I was not all I thought I was. Before truly coming to Christ in college, I'd placed my identity in basketball, in my ability to perform. I'm grateful for the opportunities and friendships that came through basketball—even though I'd never actually attained my goal of making the team. That last piece, though, was one I clung to for too long.
I remember thinking each year that "this would be the year." I'd finally make the team and prove to myself and to those around me that I was really as good as I said I was. Each passing year, I'd work hard to improve and it often paid off; but I'd put so much pressure on myself to make the team that, come tryouts, I became tentative in hopes that a lack of mistakes would be enough to keep me in the conversation. Rather than focusing on enjoying the game and showing how much I'd improved, I focused on what would happen if I missed the next shot or if I turned the ball over on a risky dribble move or pass. So I didn't try anything if it wasn't an open three. I look back and can see that it wasn't just basketball that I'd put my identity in—it was actually in all the flaws that I thought would keep me from my goal: I was too skinny, I wasn't the fastest, I didn't have the tightest handle, I wasn't a genius. I believed myself to be a net negative, this is the frame I played with. This changed when I got to college, though.
I entered college during the COVID pandemic. That began in March 2020, and I actually hadn't touched a basketball for almost a year after that because everything was closed down. The summer before college was actually rather rough for me, but I found some light when I found Christ. I got plugged into a ministry on campus and found, among other things, that there was a God who didn't see me as a net negative—rather, I was enough to die for. Going into sophomore year I'd made some incredible friends, I'd been on so many adventures, I'd centered my life on God and what the Bible said about me, and I was teaching others about Him. I'd been feeling like Paul expressed feeling in his letter to the Philippians—that I could be content in anything as long as I had God. What I hadn't expected was that this could carry over to my relationship with basketball.
That same year, sophomore year, I decided that I'd removed myself enough from the game of basketball that I could return to it healthily. As it turned out, I was more than right. After over a year removed from any type of competitive basketball or training, I'd been playing the best basketball of my life. With the pressure of performance removed, I began to have fun again. I knew (and genuinely believed) that my identity wasn't in how well I performed, so I started trying new things and putting myself in new situations: I'd bring the ball down the court and "conduct" the offense, I'd pick up the best player on the other team on defense, and there were many moments where, on a court of great players, I could say I was the best among them—if just for a few moments. I was everything I thought myself to be in high school, just a few years too late.
What I found to be even more impactful, though, was that I handled the bad days better. If for whatever reason my shot wasn't falling or if my handle was off or if I was a step slow on defense, I found myself better able to give thanks to God for the opportunity to play and to move on as though there were more to life—because there finally was. I look back now and am grateful that I have the experience of high school to look back on. I'd loved to have made the teams and pushed for basketball in college, but if that were case I don't know that I'd have sought the Lord as I have. In the end, the pursuit of Him proved to be more fruitful than anything else I could pursue. Not only that, but I get to tell the story and, with a bed of proof, encourage others to examine the way they see themselves.
The Constraint
"I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing." (John 15:5)
"Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong." (2 Corinthians 12:8-10)
We can only go as far as we believe we can. And we can go further when we realize that we don't have to go on our own strength. I can do all things through Him who strengthens me; this is the constraint. To the extent that we abide in the Lord and allow His Spirit to move in and through us we will produce fruit. This isn't to say that we are completely incapable of basic kindness and things like it, but it is to say that we will be quick to burn out if try to go extended periods without the Lord. Like I mentioned earlier, our identity often operates "underneath" everything. Even if we are outwardly praising God, if we examine our private lives and notice that they are dormant, then we will probably be able to find the story that we're telling ourselves—it's often similar to whatever we lived on before coming to Christ.
And that makes sense. So much of our sanctification is literally rewiring the patterns and habits that we've developed in our time here. I don't write this note to say that we should all just "have stronger faith" or "just be a better Christian." I write this as an encouragement to keep turning back to Jesus. If ever life just feels harder or as though this walk isn't as fun or easy as it once was, I urge you to let your people know—your roommates, a small group leader, a mentor, a friend—and to invite them to pray with you. Write down some Scripture that reminds you of God's love for you and of His invitation to greater relationship with Him. Place your being in Jesus Christ—literally, acknowledge and re-focus on Him as frequently as possible, "be" with Christ. We will only go as far as we allow Him to take us.
Be blessed.
Verses to Look Back On:
Jeremiah 29:11-13
Psalm 37
Proverbs 3:5-6
John 15:1-17
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