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Eldredge on our identity in Christ

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Yesterday’s blog was about your identity in Christ. Most young people discover their identity in the context of some kind of journey. I’ve committed my life to help them understand how epic that journey can be – full of tragedy and triumph. They need to see the amazing possibilities availabl…
By Seth Barnes

Yesterday’s blog was about your identity in Christ. Most
young people discover their identity in the context of some kind of
journey. I’ve committed my life to help them understand how epic that
journey can be – full of tragedy and triumph. They need to see the
amazing possibilities available to them.
John Eldredge, author of Wild At Heart, has written some great stuff on this theme. He writes the following in his first book:

eldredgeWe are not what we were meant to be, and we know
it. If, when passing a stranger on the street, we happen to meet eyes, we
quickly avert our glance. Cramped into the awkward community of an elevator, we
search for something, anything to look at instead of each other. We fear to be
seen. But think for a moment about the millions of tourists who visit ancient
sites like the Parthenon, the Colosseum, and the Pyramids.

Though ravaged by
time, the elements, and vandals through the ages, mere shadows of their former
glory, these ruins still awe and inspire. Though fallen, their glory cannot be
fully extinguished. There is something at once sad and grand about them. And
such we are. Abused, neglected, vandalized, fallen—we are still fearful and
wonderful.

We are, as one theologian put it, “glorious ruins.” But unlike those
grand monuments, we who are Christ’s have been redeemed and are being renewed as
Paul said, “day by day,” restored in the love of God.

Could it be that
we, all of us, the homecoming queens and quarterbacks and the passed over and
picked on, really possess hidden greatness? Is there something in us worth
fighting over? The fact that we don’t see our own glory is part of the tragedy
of the Fall; a sort of spiritual amnesia has taken all of us. Our souls were
made to live in the Larger Story, but as Chesterton discovered, we have
forgotten our part:

“We have all read in scientific books, and indeed, in
all romances, the story of the man who has forgotten his name. This man walks
about the streets and can see and appreciate everything; only he cannot remember
who he is. Well, every man is that man in the story. Every man has forgotten who
he is. . . . We are all under the same mental calamity; we have all forgotten
our names. We have all forgotten what we really are. “

(The
Sacred Romance
, 92, 94)

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