Written By: Lindsay Wadsworth
Throughout the first couple years of my oldest son’s life, we were regularly told he looked like Prince George. We have been stopped by excited monarchy groupies at the grocery store, the doctor’s office and in my grandmother’s living room.
The royal sightings have slowed as Isaac has grown out of his baby face, but there was one memorable instance last Labour Day weekend. Isaac and I were out shopping for his first day of Kindergarten (cue: all the feelings) when a woman in a minivan pulled over beside us and shouted loudly out her window.
"He looks JUST like that adorable Prince George! Exactly like him!"
I politely laughed, forced a smile, and kept walking. Isaac looked up at me confused, if not a little annoyed, and demanded:
"What did she say?"
(A side note about Isaac: he is strong-willed, precocious and brave. He basically came into this world speaking in full sentences, and has not stopped. Not much is lost on him.)
"Oh nothing, buddy. She just thought you looked like someone," I replied.
Isaac was indignant. Glaring at the minivan he shouted,
"Well- I am someone. I'm Isaac!"
I choked back the massive lump that had suddenly formed in my throat and hid my welling eyes behind my shades. I affirmed that yes, that is indeed exactly who he is. Isaac turned his little nose to the air and carried on. He cared not who little George was, or what fancy romper he'd been wearing across the pond last week. Isaac knew who he was, and that the suggestion of anything else was outrageous.
I felt such assurance in how my little boy had declared his identity so resolutely, so immediately. My tender heart inflated with hope for Isaac’s adventures in the great big world of elementary school.
As He often does via this altar we call parenting, my heavenly Father has transformed this scene into a profound challenge for my soul. I can hear Him softly asking me,
“Do you know your name- the one that I have called you?”
I confess that too often, I believe the lies of the enemy as he whispers in my ear the names timid, incapable and insignificant. He tells me I’m anxious and unsure, ugly and ashamed. Uncontested, the whispers grow gradually louder until they are white noise- a backdrop that drowns out the truth.
I hear my own voice introduce myself as too busy, inexperienced, unimportant, and afraid. I compare myself to the ‘perfection’ I scroll by online and the thief steals my joy, kills my confidence, and destroys my hope.
But Abba Father lifts me out of this grave of falsehood and tells me who I am- His. I am a daughter of the Most High King, a citizen of heaven and a co-heir with Christ. Almighty God labels me redeemed, anointed and righteous. I am wonderfully made by the Creator Himself. I am His beloved. I am a vessel of the Holy Spirit. “Free” is written across my forehead with the blood of the Lamb. I am a whole new creation.
I must choose to say ‘yes and amen’ to my God-given names, and ‘no’ to that mistaken identity. When I do, I choose life. I affirm my role in the Kingdom that is both right now and yet to come. And when I hear you proclaiming your rightful name, it gives me courage and it fills me with hope.
May we be a generation of women who remind and affirm, who encourage and inspire, and who speak His truth when a sister has forgotten. May we know our names- may we know each others’- and may we stand up together, a mighty army.
Join me in turning off the white noise. Then, dear sisters- with all the conviction of a stubborn three-year-old- let’s tell them who we are.
Yes and amen?
“Don’t be afraid, I’ve redeemed you. I’ve called your name. You’re mine.” - Isaiah 43:1
“What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us?”- Romans 8:31