Black Mold, Worth and Identity


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Reposted from Cru NYC     by Kelsey Dunn

I’m currently gazing downtown from my bedroom window, and let me tell you, it feels like a minor miracle. I eagerly embraced the new year with hopeful expectations, but then came January 2nd with four broken radiators, a leaky roof, and a very soaked and moldy apartment. You guys, pictures actually peeled off our walls and candy cane ornaments melted onto our sheepskin rug. I love that thing. So up until a couple days ago my husband and I had settled onto our friends’ pullout couch as we fought black mold, stubborn landlords, insurance agents, a sinus infection and the flu.

Forget leap day, I’ll happily embrace a 10 month year if it means I never have to think about black mold again.

The kicker is through all these crazy circumstances, I’ve been most worried that people think I’m overreacting and crazy. Have you noticed that when life seems to press you on all sides, the black mold of your heart surfaces…or is that just me? So here’s my black mold…insecurity. Ugh. I have spent way too much time thinking about this blog post the last month because I want you guys to think I’m wise and witty. I want my coworkers to like me and to impress them with what I have to say.

Last week my sweet husband listened to and comforted me as I blubbered all over him asking questions like, “Do you love me? Am I enough? Do I have worth and value? Do I matter?”

In my defense, I was pretty delirious from the flu and had been in isolation for four days. (Okay, you see how I just gave a disclaimer to make me sound not as pathetic. I need help, guys.) He was reminding me of my identity in Christ. Truth wasn’t winning.

I am loved by God

I am chosen and adopted by God.

I am perfectly and wonderfully made by God.

I am a child of God.

Then a wave of truth slammed into me, silencing my tears. The common thread in all Christian identity lists is God. Basic right? Identity is an incredibly complex mix of culture, generation, career, country, religion, etc. As Christians, our identity is rooted in Christ, but how often do we recite the truths above and stop with what it tells us about ourselves? If our identity is rooted in God, we need to deeply understand and know who He is to know whose image we bear.

Think of how important your family and ancestral roots are to understanding yourself. We all want to know where we come from; it’s the basic premise of the best stories. And God is the only One whose identity is not rooted in another. He tells Moses at the burning bush, “I am who I am.” Think about it, He is Love, Peace, and Truth, so he can be our Rock—our firm, unshakable Foundation in which we place our identity. After all, Jesus as fully man and fully God, lived his 33 years on earth with perfect knowledge and understanding of his identity and an unwavering purpose of why he was here. He faced betrayal from his closest friends, hatred from the religious leaders, and shame from the public to rescue his beautiful, loved, little image bearers.


I want to turn my gaze to the One from whom my identity stems. And the next time I encounter the icky mold of my heart, I want to rest in the conviction that I am loved because the One who loves me is love and he cannot lie and he is unchanging. And that, my friends, is a very secure thing.