We’ve spent four weeks clearing things out. God forgave you. You forgave the people who hurt you. You forgave yourself. The old courtroom is empty. The cell door is open.
So now what? Who are you when you walk out?
Here’s what most of us run into the second we try to answer that. The world handed us labels a long time ago, and those labels stick like tar. They don’t come off just because God closed the case. You can be three years clean and still hear addict in your head every time somebody passes a beer in front of you. You can be ten years out of prison and still feel like con is stamped on your forehead at every job interview. You can have a new last name and a new house and still flinch when somebody says your old nickname.
The world keeps a long list on you. Junkie. Drunk. Ex. Deadbeat. Loser. Nobody. Trash. Mistake.
Maybe nobody calls you that out loud anymore. Maybe they don’t have to. The list lives in your head now, on rotation, the same as the warden’s voice from last week.
This paper is about the new list. The one God keeps. Because if you don’t replace the labels, you’ll drift right back into them by Friday.
Get your coffee. Sit down. Let’s find out who you actually are now.
The first thing the Bible says about a forgiven man or woman is shocking the first time you really hear it. Read this slowly:
“This means that anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone; a new life has begun!”
— 2 Corinthians 5:17 (NLT)
A new person. Not a cleaned-up version of the old one. Not the same broken thing with some bandages on it. A new person.
The Bible is not saying you have no past. You do. Everybody does. But it’s saying your past is no longer the thing that defines who you are. The old you — the one with all those labels — that person is gone in God’s eyes. He’s looking at someone new.
Here’s the part that’s hard to take in. When God looks at you today, He is not seeing the worst version of you. He’s not seeing the rap sheet. He’s not seeing the relapse. He’s seeing somebody He just made new in His Son. He looks at you and sees Jesus.
“For God knew his people in advance, and he chose them to become like his Son.”
— Romans 8:29 (NLT)
That’s who He sees when He looks at you. Not what the world sees. Not what you see in the mirror at 3 a.m. He sees the person He is making you into. And He’s the one in charge of the project.
The Bible has a habit, all the way through, of changing people’s names when He calls them into something new. Abram became Abraham. Jacob became Israel. Saul became Paul. Simon became Peter. When God grabs hold of a life, He often gives that life a new name to go with it.
Here’s what He calls you now. Read these slowly. Not as poetry. As your actual job description.
“But you are not like that, for you are a chosen people. You are royal priests, a holy nation, God’s very own possession. As a result, you can show others the goodness of God, for he called you out of the darkness into his wonderful light.”
— 1 Peter 2:9 (NLT)
Look at those words. Chosen. Royal. Holy. God’s very own possession. That’s what the Bible says you are now. Not what you’d write down. Not what your driver’s license says. Not what the people who knew you when still say behind your back. Chosen. Royal. Holy. God’s.
Peter wrote that. The same Peter who denied Jesus three times. The same Peter we talked about in week one and week two — the one Jesus restored on the beach. He knew exactly what it was like to wake up with the old labels in his head. And he’s the one telling you what the new label is.
It gets better.
“See how very much our Father loves us, for he calls us his children, and that is what we are!”
— 1 John 3:1 (NLT)
His. Children.
If you grew up without a dad, or with one who was worse than gone, that word might land hard. Stay with it. The God who made the universe didn’t just forgive you. He adopted you. He didn’t take you in like a charity case. He took you in like a son. Like a daughter. With your name on the family tree and your seat at the table and your inheritance in His will.
“So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves. Instead, you received God’s Spirit when he adopted you as his own children. Now we call him, “Abba, Father.””
— Romans 8:15 (NLT)
That word Abba is the Aramaic word a small child used for his father. The closest English we have is Daddy. That’s the kind of closeness the Bible is offering you. Not standing in line waiting for an audience with a king. Walking right into the kitchen and calling Him Dad.
You are not a slave to your past. You are not a project He’s tolerating. You are not in the family on probation. You are in. Adopted. Permanent.
Let’s be honest. You can read all that, and the old voice still shows up Monday morning saying yeah but you know what you really are.
So what do you do?
You do the same thing we’ve been practicing all four weeks. You don’t argue with the voice. You replace it. You answer the old label with the new one, out loud if you have to.
The voice says you’re an addict. You say I’m a son of God who used to be in bondage and is now being set free.
The voice says you’re a failure. You say I’m a chosen one whose Father is working everything together for good (Romans 8:28).
The voice says you’re nobody. You say I am God’s very own possession (1 Peter 2:9).
The voice says you’re a hypocrite. You say there is no condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus (Romans 8:1).
You’re not lying when you say those things. You’re not pretending. You’re agreeing with what God has already said about you, and you’re refusing to agree with what the world said about you. Whichever voice you agree with the most is the one that will shape who you become.
“Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think.”
— Romans 12:2 (NLT)
Did you catch that? God changes you by changing the way you think. Not by snapping His fingers and erasing the memory. By renewing the way you talk to yourself. By replacing the old labels with the new ones, day by day, conversation by conversation, until the new ones are louder than the old ones.
Here’s one more thing, because this trips a lot of people up.
Your identity in Christ is not based on how well you’re doing this week. It is not based on whether you stayed clean. It is not based on whether you read your Bible every morning. It is not based on whether your kid called you back. It is not based on whether you slipped Tuesday night.
“I am sure that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns.”
— Philippians 1:6 (NLT)
He started it. He’s the one finishing it. He doesn’t quit projects. The work is not done — you’re not finished yet, and you’re not supposed to be — but the project is in His hands, not yours. You don’t earn your identity. You walk in it.
A son is a son on the day he hits a home run and on the day he strikes out. A daughter is a daughter on her good days and on her bad days. The relationship doesn’t change with the performance. It’s based on who the Father is, not on how the kid is doing this week.
That’s you now. Adopted. Chosen. Royal. Holy. Loved. His.
That is who you are. Not who you were. Not who you’d be if you finally got it all together. Who you are, today, in the eyes of the God who made you and bought you back.
Walk out of here today and into the rest of your week as that person. Because that is what He calls you.
TAKE IT WITH YOU
One thought. When God looks at you, He doesn’t see the rap sheet. He sees a chosen, adopted son or daughter He’s making more like His Son every day.
One question. What is the old label that still has the loudest voice in your head? Now find the verse in this paper that gives you the new one. Say the new one out loud.
One step. This week, every time the old label shows up, answer it with the new one. Out loud if you can. I am God’s. I am chosen. I am His son. I am His daughter. Let the new name get louder than the old one.