I walked into the Apple Store to buy a new laptop. With my recent job transition, I turned in my work computer and needed a replacement.
I’m a Mac fan but don’t actually know much about computers. If my laptop can quickly and reliably let me email, do word processing and get me to Netflix, I’m pretty much good to go. I don’t really care about the tech jargon.
That said, my recent purchase got me thinking more than usual about how computers operate. Even with my limited understanding, I know that there are basically two levels to a computer – what I see and interact with on the screen (the software programs) and the unseen inner workings that allows my programs to function (the operating system or OS). While I jump around from one application to the next, from Outlook, to Word, to Safari, my laptop’s operating system (macOS Sierra version 10.12.6 for those who are dying to know) is the real core of it all, the invisible heartbeat of the whole machine.
I think we’re a lot like computers. We all have a variety of surface level “applications” to our lives. Like software programs, these are the things that we and others can easily see – our careers, accomplishments, talents, relationships, etc. An engineer. A college graduate. An artist. A parent. A spouse.
These are all good and helpful labels. The problem comes when we base our identity on them. Why? Because they are all changeable. We lose our job or retire. Our accomplishments are a distant memory. Our talents fade from lack of use or are lost to injury. Friends leave town. Our spouse passes away. Our kids move out. If these are the things we base our identity on, who are we when they change?
What if instead we based our identity on our Operating System? On our True Self, who we are deep inside, that part of us that doesn’t change no matter what label we wear? For me, that’s a person created, known and loved by God. That identity is secure. It provides a strong foundation, giving me a sense of assurance and peace that, no matter what changes life throws my way, I know who I am.
What about you? Maybe God isn’t your thing. That’s okay. This question of true identity is the same for all of us. When you dig deeper, beneath the various roles you play, what do you find? What’s your unchanging OS, your True Self, that foundational identity you can always depend on? Find that and you’re on your way to Becoming Yourself.
Great post, Matt! Thanks for sharing!
Thanks much Bill! I really appreciate you reading and giving me that feedback ?
As a self professed GEEK and NERD.. I appreciated your insight, turning a technology discussion into a spiritual one. I often think of how God uses technology to bless, strengthen, and unify the body of Christ, while at the same time, cause those in the body to stumble and fall. Same with people. God uses some people for building up, and allows some to tear down. Your words and thoughts remind me that YOU are a builder… and lifter… THANK YOU MATT!!
Thanks so much for the support, Greg! And I admire that you embrace your geek and nerd self 🙂 Glad to have you along.
I went through this kind of identity crisis a few years ago.
My body – which I had never particularly taken care of, but that I had still always assumed would be around to do what I wanted it to do – broke.
I had to take a leave of absence from work, so I wasn’t a _____ anymore. I lived most of my life in the bed or on the couch, and couldn’t contribute to the family anymore, so I wasn’t a wife or a mother, either. Stripped of these usual labels, who was I? What value did I have?
These are very difficult things to resolve when one is racked with severe pain 24-7. It’s hard holding a thought in one’s head, or pulling at a thread to see what it unravels. I knew that the #1 cause of death for people who had what I had was suicide – they couldn’t take living with the pain and uselessness and anxiety one more day.
Lying on the sofa, in so much pain tears were running down my face, unable to speak, knowing that if I could just shift positions the pain might ease slightly, but that the actual movement of shifting would cause a brief spasm of even WORSE pain, and I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was a parasitic lump of flesh that other people had to serve, to take care of, to pick up the slack for. This was depressing. There were a million things that I was supposed to be doing, that I needed to be doing, that I couldn’t do. That was anxiety-inducing. Between peaks of pain, valleys of rotating anxiety and depression. Sleep didn’t happen, either. And of course, that made everything worse.
In that place, I saw that respite that others had turned to, a flash across my mind of how peaceful it would be if everything just stopped. And I slammed that door closed and said: no. NO, dammit!
From that place of utter and complete weakness, of being stripped to the bone, I found a place in me that I didn’t know was there. That place was reinforced titanium…and it was a foundation I could build on. I’m still building. I am a different person than I was 10 years ago – physically, mentally, emotionally. That’s one thing that came out of this learning for me: I used to think that those three things were separate entities, like weapons that could be called on for a particular battle, instead of three strands that are braided together to form a whole.
When I was in college, I worked at a deli. Once, a woman ordered Swiss cheese; when I sliced her order, she rejected it because the particular section I sliced for her didn’t have holes. The holes are part and parcel of what makes it Swiss cheese. To nurture ourselves as whole people, we have to first recognize ourselves as whole people.
People can be whole and imperfect at the same time. The person I was before – a never-still-for-a-moment perfectionist – would have been freaked out by that. The person I am now – someone with perfectionistic tendencies who cultivates stillness as an art form – recognizes that sometimes holes are SUPPOSED to be there.
Wow. Every time I make a comment, it’s really long. Maybe I write my own blog 😉
Brava Squeaky! I almost stood up from my chair and applauded when I read this. You sharing this insight gained from deep, life-changing pain with such vulnerability and honesty is SO helpful, moving and inspiring. Thank you for that beautiful gift. And I second the motion for you starting your own blog! You are a gifted writer with a lot of wisdom to share. Let me know when I can subscribe 🙂