I hate it when people call me hipster.
I listen to different music and practically live at coffee shops. My wardrobe is almost exclusively my grandmother’s hand-me-downs or thriftstore finds. And yes, I’d love to get married barefoot in the mountains.
But when people call me hipster, they’re placing a label on me. They define me by what I do, wear and listen to. They place me in this box that I fear I cannot escape.
I’ve faced several identity crises in my life.
When I got to college and joined a sorority, I was the Tri Delta. I knew that once I joined, people would make assumptions about me based on my involvement in the group. They thought I was a genius future soccer mom.
When I was diagnosed with bipolar, I let my mental illness become part of my identity. I was the girl with bipolar and depression. When I revealed my diagnosis, I knew people would jump to conclusions about my emotions and actions.
But my true identity is found in Christ.
In Genesis 1, God creates man in His own image. This means we embody the goodness and mercy and grace of God.
In John 1, we are told that if we receive Him and believe in His name, we have the right to be God’s children. This means we are His heirs, that we will inherit His Kingdom.
In Galatians 3, we are clothed in Christ upon baptism. There are no more Jews or Gentiles, but we are all one in Christ Jesus. This means that we are no longer ourselves, that when we become Christians –which means “little Christ”– we are made new.
All of these verses point to this: no matter the organization I’m apart of or the company I work for, no matter the music I listen to or the clothes I wear, I am ultimately Christ’s and Christ’s alone.
I don’t have to concern myself with labels or boxes. When people call me Christian, they call me by name. They know the name God knows me by: Daughter.