What is a Christian's identity? What does it mean? If we were made so uniquely, then why do we try to be like everybody else?
Those questions were lain on my heart after I wrote my last poem, "You are a Masterpiece in the Making," and my post, "Judging People Like Books." After thinking about those things and rereading the blog and poem, I could see the relation: identity.
Let's say you are a student in middle school or high school. At home, you are your obedient, honest, calm, and quiet person. At school, you're completely opposite. Then anywhere else, such as youth group, church service, or with certain friends, you find that you are a completely different person. Isn't it kind of funny that we have so many IDs, but then we come to find out later, after we've been all those people for so long, that we have forgotten who the "REAL me" is?
Actually, it's not that funny. Upon that discovery of multiple personalities, I would be scared. And I am. You see, I left my hometown school to go to a private high school 30 miles away from my home. I walked onto the campus day one of my freshman year, did not know one person there—none of the students, none of the teachers, only the people who interviewed me during my registration.
I was quiet for a while, didn't talk to many people. I always walked alone, sat alone, and worked alone because I was so used to it back at my other school. But then it happened. Someone started to talk to me, and I had to act. A new ID was created. A new person was made. And it wasn't that hard. All I had to do was let out a few lies that seemed believable, and people bought them. They didn't know me. How could they know the difference?
I didn't realize what was happening until about a year and a month later. I started to attend youth group at my church and saw a little more clearly than what I had originally had been seeing. I began to understand more, more of my questions were answered. I honestly thought I went through a new beginning in my life! A few months after I started attending, I re-accepted Christ into my life.
Then everything went haywire from there.
A few days later, I went back to school, and had realized what I had done in creating all these new IDs. I didn't know how to fix it. I thought about telling them the truth, but I was worried that they would never speak to me again because I'd lied to them. It was like all of the personalities that I had been living were all held at gun point; I had to choose one and stick with it or they all might die. But which one was the real one?
I guess for some who know me personally and are reading this, you may be thinking, "Is this the Sparky I really know?" Well, it doesn't matter if you don't trust me or want to talk to me after this is published. I can't live my life for others' approval. All I know is that I am a good person who tried to change the past, but can't. I enjoy fixing computers, reading stories, and writing them, as well as writing poetry. I play laser tag occasionally when I have the chance. I do have a past that I don't want to remember or be reminded of.
But this post isn't to make anyone feel guilty or mad. And it wasn't for me to post a confession. I just hope that someone can relate to this and say, "I know what you mean. I'm in a state of false identity, and I need to get out too."
Because if you were like me in any way, shape, or form, I would advise you to get out as soon as you can. If you find that hard to do, then I would recommend first asking God for his forgiveness and then ask Him to help guide you off this path, out of this mess that you had gotten yourself into. I'm sure if you have complete faith and trust in Him, He will get you through it all.
—Sparky
Sparky was a 16-year-old attending a private high school when he wrote this. A childhood injury limits his abilities, but God has used it to focus him onto His will. Sparky is a writer/poet and novelist. He's also a technology expert and loves to get into God's Word. Through many pains, addictions, and depression, God has saved him. He's thankful to be His servant forever.