Bearing your cross is easier than bearing the weight of your own identity
Abraham and "Sonnet 29," plus new music rec
I have a new piece up at Mockingbird about identity, framed through the story of Abraham and Isaac, with a little help from William Shakespeare’s “Sonnet 29” (and another William, too). Here’s an excerpt.
Identity is everything and it is everywhere. It’s in our politics. In our work. In our bedrooms. In our consumerism. In our brand loyalties. In our food (“You are not what you eat, you are what you want to eat.” -James K.A. Smith). At a birthday party for a friend’s daughter the other day, one of the guests — a girl no older than seven or eight — was wearing a pink tie-died shirt that read, in some sort of bubbly font, “I am the author of my own story.”
Perhaps that shirt will be more prophetic than aesthetic, but consider me skeptical. I can barely author this here article, let alone my life story and identity.
But that is what is being asked — demanded — of each of us today in the late, modern, secular West: to be the sole proprietor of our individual identities. To be the author of my story. Sisyphus looks at our load and shakes his head, thankful for his by-comparison-much-lighter toil. The earth a beach ball compared to the granite boulder of identity we try to roll up the mountain of existence every single day.
I was thinking about this in light of the account of Abraham and Isaac from Genesis 22:1-14. The brief summary: God calls Abraham to sacrifice his only son, Isaac—Abraham’s only child, who happens to be the answer to God’s covenant promise with Abraham to make him a great nation—at the top of Mt. Moriah.
Here we see the patriarch of the Jewish and Christian faiths being called to do the unimaginable. To do the one thing that, seemingly, would undue the promise God has made to him. Abraham’s entire identity was built around the covenant God had made with him. What’s more, in his culture, a man’s self-worth was largely determined by how many sons one had. And yet here he was, being called by God to give it all away.
Walking up that mountain, with the coals in his hand and the wood on his son’s back, was the exact opposite of authoring his own story. Abraham trusted the story his God was writing. Even if it made no sense. Even if it would break his heart. But he trusted because God called him by name. Abraham knew the Author of this story. He knew he could be trusted.
New music from a friend of mine
The first time I met Nathan Johnson was the first time I set foot in an Anglican church. Our family attended an Easter Vigil service in what would eventually become our church home. That Saturday night, on the eve of Easter, we had no idea what an Easter Vigil service was like. The pastor who invited me likened it to the Super Bowl. He was right. The Great Vigil of Easter, as it’s called, is a grand and sobering and beautiful rehearsal of God’s redemptive movement throughout history. It’s divided into four parts. As the Prayer Book describes the Scripture-reading part of the service, “. . . key passages from Scripture recount the history of God’s mighty acts and promises. These readings are accompanied by psalms, canticles, and prayers.”
At our church, the readings are sometimes replaced with a kind of drama performance or dramatic reading. And sometimes the response to the reading is a song sung corporately or as an offering by someone from the music team. One of the readings that night was Genesis 22:1-14. The response song was a solo from our church’s music director, Nathan Johnson. And the song was “Abraham” by Sufjan Stevens.
Sufjan Stevens, in a darkened church sanctuary, at, like, 9 p.m., the evening before Easter? Sign me up. Nathan handled it brilliantly, and I made it a point to thank him for it after the service.
“Abraham” is a fitting companion to my piece at Mockingbird. But it also gives you a good introduction to the vibe of Nathan Johnson. Who is now my friend and is still the music director at our church. He is writing his own music and has a new single out, recently released on Spotify. And it cooks. And I want to share it with you. If you go in for country, folk, rock, or country-infused rock with folk-forward storytelling and gnarly guitar work, then “Leaving” is for you. Enjoy.
Thanks, for reading (and listening), friends.
This discussion about identity is so timely today, with kids being taught they can be whatever they decide, no regard to gender, family, community, tradition, religion, and especially accepting who God already made them. ❣️ Also a relief to know we are accepted in God's family of believers andvwe don't have to make ourselves into something good, because He already did.