Identity

Our Identity is God-given. Not earned.

July 5, 2025

By: Lindsay Lydon

On a recent trip to the Ark Encounter in Williamstown, Kentucky, I came across a section of modern art representing worldly choices many of us have faced. I snapped a photo of one piece that immediately hit a nerve—it brought back a rush of memories and emotions from a time when my life felt completely chaotic and out of alignment. The hardest part was knowing I had chosen that path myself.

“There is a way that seems right to a man, but its end is the way to death.”
— Proverbs 14:12 (ESV)

It reminded me of a night I’ll never forget—one that marked a turning point in my faith journey. I was standing in the middle of a frat party living room. There was no carpet, no furniture—just a bare, grimy space littered with alcohol bottles, trash, human fluids, and just about everything you know your parents would not want to hear. The room was packed with half-naked college students, public displays of affection that crossed every boundary, and drugs I’d never even seen before. I had willingly dressed up, pregamed, did my makeup, and let my friends convince me to go out, even though something in me felt so off.

In the middle of the noise and lights, I found myself dancing, but in my head, I was asking: How is this satisfying anyone? The flashing lights, the hookup culture, the smoke in the air—it all felt so empty. Everyone seemed to be chasing something, but no one knew what. And I was stuck wondering, Why am I here? Am I just as broken as everyone here? What am I missing?

“Whoever drinks of this water will thirst again, but whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him will never thirst.”
— John 4:13–14 (NKJV)

This was the fall of 2023, but that night—and so many others like it—remained etched in my memory. I had been going to church alone for a while, slowly distancing myself from that scene, but I was still caught in between two worlds. Christian culture would say I was “lukewarm” in my faith. On the outside, I looked like I had it all together. I was on scholarship, trying to maintain good grades, in a sorority, starting organizations on campus, working internships, and making many memories. But inside, I was hurting. I was suffering from nightmares, anxiety, confusion, and I turned to therapy for several months—feeling too dirty to turn to God first. Too scared to explain to Him how I felt even though it was obvious to me He knew everything. That was my shame screaming in my mind. This was conviction. Yet the enemy did exactly what he is great at—he kept me distracted.

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.”
— Psalm 34:18 (ESV)

The truth is, I didn’t understand spiritual warfare back then. I didn’t recognize the authority I had in Christ to rebuke the thoughts that flooded my mind and haunted my dreams. I didn’t understand how to surrender my sin to Jesus or what restoration even meant. Instead, I sat in silence, drowning in shame, and hiding from the truth. I believed the lie that I had to earn my worth, that I wasn’t enough, and that I deserved the chaos I was in.

“For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against… the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.”
— Ephesians 6:12 (ESV)

“We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ.”
— 2 Corinthians 10:5 (ESV)

Even while everyone else seemed to be making memories, posting happy Snapchat stories, and living for the weekend, I felt completely disconnected. I was desperate for something real, something that lasted. Deep down, I was searching for purpose in a world that told me to just “live a little” and not take life too seriously. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.

I grew up Catholic, but in my last year in college—testing the waters of the non-denominational faith—I started asking real questions: Who is Jesus? What does the Bible actually say? Could this really change my life? I was scared of what change would require of me. I didn’t want to give up comfort. I didn’t want to do the hard thing. But deep down, I knew I couldn’t stay where I was anymore.

Looking back, I can clearly see the spiritual warfare I was in. I wrestled constantly with overthinking and fear—What will people think if I change? How can we still be friends if I don’t want to be around these environments? Will I be alone? But I was already feeling alone. I loved all my friends, and many are good people, but while some were chasing temporary highs, I was left holding my convictions in silence. Not relating to anyone or feeling able to share this feeling.

At the time, I didn’t know what it meant to guard my heart. Even worse, I didn’t have boundaries. I didn’t know what environments I needed to leave behind entirely or which ones I could walk through with strength. I was learning all of it in real time.

“Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.”
— Proverbs 4:23 (NIV)

Everything started to change when I stepped away from that scene and leaned deeper into Jesus. That’s when I found real peace. I began to understand that spiritual warfare isn’t some abstract idea—it’s a daily battle between the truth of who God says I am and the lies the world constantly throws at me.

“Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you.”
— James 4:8 (ESV)

Learning that my worth doesn’t come from approval, performance, or perfection—but from who God says I am—has changed everything.

“For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.”
— Ephesians 2:10 (ESV)

I’m no longer chasing satisfaction in empty places. I’ve found true joy and purpose in Him.

So why am I writing this?

Because maybe you’ve felt this too. Maybe you’re standing in a room full of people, wondering what on earth you’re doing there. Maybe you’re caught in a cycle you don’t know how to break, scared of what it might cost to let go of something you think you need to survive.

Let me tell you:
You are not crazy. You are not alone. Community is closer than you think. You do not have to earn love. You are worthy of good things.

“For I am sure that neither death nor life… nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
— Romans 8:38–39 (ESV)

Even if you’re confused, that’s okay. I encourage you to talk about what you are going through. This does not need to be a serious therapy session. The first thing I would say is to seek community. Join a church young adult group or ask an elder for a coffee date for advice. I know, sometimes it sucks to go out of your way to feel connected. But seek the Lord first in prayer and ask Him what your next steps should be. Lean in.

When you find a safe space to talk, remember the Holy Spirit lives inside you. No one can replace Him. Ask Him questions. Bring your shame into the light. You don’t have to bottle it up or pretend to be okay. There is peace, healing, and freedom—and not because you earned it, but because Jesus already paid for it.

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.”
— Philippians 4:6 (NIV)

Some people might give you a formula. A checklist to follow. But the God I know, the one true God—He just wants you to draw near. Right now. Just as you are. Even if you’re in a room full of unbelievers, whisper a prayer. Ask the Holy Spirit for help. He hears you.

I’m telling you as someone who was baptized into the faith only nine months ago: transformation takes time. I recently volunteered at a summer camp where I saw middle and high school girls praying out loud for the first time in their lives. It brought me to tears. Keep in mind this was almost exactly one year after I prayed over someone for the first time. And now here I was, leading these girls in prayer, and they looked at me like I’d been doing it forever. My heart changed over time. The cost for me was to surrender my sin, shame, lifestyle, heck I even moved across the country because He told me to!

For me this is what a surrendered heart looked like.

For you it will look different.

Let go and let God move in your life.

If you walk away with anything, let it be this:

You are never too far gone.
You are not forgotten.
You are a child of the Most High God.

You are so deeply loved. You are worthy of peace, joy, and all the fruits of the Spirit.

Lean into community. Find brothers and sisters who walk with Jesus. Ask for guidance. Open your Bible. Ask your questions. And know—you are never, ever alone.

…….

Still figuring it out, but with God this time. — Linz