You are sitting around a table with complete strangers. In an effort to break the awkward silence, you introduce yourself: “Hi everyone. My name is Jesse. I’m the RNA at a local hospital.”
Slowly, the people around you open up. “Hi, my name is Jaden. I’m a warehouse engineer.”
“I’m Charles. I am a technician at a pharmaceutical company.”
“My name is Tianna. I’m a realtor.”
“Hi there. I’m Charlotte. I am a sales rep.”
“I’m Rachelle. I’m a member of the US Olympic track and field team.”
The Dream Job
As you listen to the introductions, you notice the people identify themselves by what they do. Then one person’s name and occupation catches your attention:
“I’m Steve Nash. I’m a professional basketball player with the Los Angeles Lakers.”
You think to yourself, Boy, I sure would love to fill his shoes — he’s playing a game he loves and getting paid millions for it. After striking up a conversation with Steve, you learn that he has been in the NBA for 18 years, but he has been hampered by injuries during the past two seasons. Steve’s next season will be his last.
As Steve pours out his heart, you can sense the fear and anxiety which shrouds him. He continues: “You know it’s painful to go through the same thing every day, and wait and wait and hope that the work you’re doing, the rehabilitation you’re doing, is going to come through and you’re going to get back out there. But I don’t know if I’m going to get better.”
Like many athletes, Steve has been confronted with the limitations age imposes on the human body — and he admits it hurts emotionally: “Every athlete, when they lose their skills, they lose a big part of themselves, the part that they’ve built their life around. You know, it’s been a huge part of their purpose, self-esteem, identity. So when the skill or ability goes, it’s like there’s been a death.”
Who Are You When the Glory Fades?
In a world where who we are is often defined by what we do, stories like Steve Nash’s resonate with all of us. These stories also raise important questions: Who are we when the dust of our life settles — when skills fade and health deteriorates? Are we the lesser because our abilities have diminished? Is our life’s purpose, along with our identity and self-worth, dependent upon our skill set or upon something even deeper?
At the end of his ministry, the Apostle Paul was imprisoned. He had plenty of time to reflect on the “glory years” of his ministry: the conversions, the miracles, the traveling experiences, and the friendships which had been forged. But instead of attempting to relive his ministry highlights, Paul accepted the imminence of the close of his ministry with poise and grace. We see this in his second letter to Timothy: For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing. (2 Timothy 4:6–8)
A New Identity
Paul knew that he was not an evangelist, preacher, healer, or frequent traveler first. First and foremost, he was a servant of Jesus Christ. Who Paul was determined everything he did, his circumstances and setting notwithstanding. The same should be true of you and me.
It has been accurately stated the Christian life is not about doing but being. It is not what we do, but who we are that makes us acceptable in God’s sight. Paul understood this and lived his life accordingly.
You may work as a doctor, pastor, teacher, attorney, nurse, or a thousand other occupations. But if you have put your trust in Jesus Christ alone as your Savior, then you are firstly God’s child. His love and acceptance of you is not based upon what you are doing for Him. With the passage of time, your health, strength, memory, or skills may diminish; but don’t be discouraged — concentrate on being the Christian God wants you to be, and God will reward you for your faithfulness.
By Cameron Edwards
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