Anyone who belongs to Christ is a new person. The past is forgotten and everything is new. 2. Corinthians. 5, 17. (Code Bible).
Reread Code 11. “Identity”
Recite this out loud:
Our problem surely is ourselves.
We seek meaning only from this World,
Identity kept safe within ourselves.
Our gods are built on us or on this World
But like all idols they have feet of clay.
They’re crushed beneath the weight of our demand
For meaning; they can’t cope in any way.
Some things gain the upper hand,
Become addictions and destroy us.
Would-be good things, once they are our gods
Fail or feed our pride or just annoy us.
Turning sour or soured by us
Money cannot satisfy us;
Money, though, become our god, will buy us.
In all this we may harm others,
Even those who love us.
And the start of our bright gleams
Of selfless, brave humanity
Get smothered in the sweet daydreams
Of comfort-loving apathy.
And death will have the final say.
The Master Joker has the laugh
On us upon our final day.
Unless, unless, unless;
My identity does not reside
Entirely inside myself;
I don’t have gods of this world,
But another God, beside myself.
A God who is all good.
You know—that one;
The God who, nailed to a piece of wood
Died in Jesus, a man, God’s son.
I don’t need to fight
To build my self-esteem
If, to my delight, it seems
It was for me, The King’s son died.
But still I can’t look down in pride
On others when, to put me right
The price was that He had to die.
I don’t need to win your favour
With some con or compromise
For popularity is no great thing
For me, because, to my surprise,
Already I’ve approval—from The King.
I’m His forgiven friend, His fighter,
His adopted son,
Rescued from my flaws, from death, by Him,
Not because of any good I’ve done
But just because He is amazing.
And He cares for me, which is the same thing.
That’s who I am, that’s me,
Strong in His strength, in that identity,
In gratitude to live for Him and not for me.
Strength that breaks and then remakes my heart.
Power to control myself
But blow my apathy apart.
Because it comes from Him, there’s no illusion,
No room for pride, it clears my mind;
Sweeps from my eyes the veil of self delusion.
Those idols of this world,
And would-be good things, could-be gods,
Now have their rightful place unfurled.
So I have a loyalty, a bond
To an authority, beyond
That of my family,
I can appeal to, to be strong,
To discipline some wayward son
(A son who’s loved but in the wrong)
And try to stop him being undone
By this world’s dark attractions.
I can keep fit, free of addiction,
Not feeding some imaginary fiction
In my head of me as Superman,
But fit for Jesus to command,
Who both owns and lives in me.
What better reason could there be
For keeping fit, addiction-free?
Money, now, like all His gifts,
Is, in my hands, a tool, a weapon
I can use with all my might
In His fight against oppression
In His name and so to claim,
For His name the honour and the fame
That name deserves, without reserve.
So may His banner be unfurled
To everyone throughout the World.
My security, safe in His plans
I can risk for others, in His hands.
As through all falls, and loss I carry on,
His hands will grip and work and never cease,
Till I, like Him, in beating death, become
At last His everlasting masterpiece.
If all this is true and I refuse,
The Bible calls it ‘sin’ and me, a rebel;
Self-centred on a course I can’t excuse.