Identity in Christ
I said identity in christ in small groups for probably five years before it meant anything to me. I would nod. I would write it in the margin of my Bible. That little cramped handwriting I use when I’m not really thinking, just copying, showed how I felt.
It sounded right. However, it did nothing for me in the mornings. I stood before my closet and couldn’t decide what to wear. I didn’t know who was getting dressed that day.
That was the year after my divorce.
I had four kids. I faced a lot of opinions from people who weren’t living my life.
I kept a running list in my head of everything that had gone wrong. Whose fault it was — mine, mostly, in my own accounting. I had the phrase.
However, I didn’t have the thing underneath it.
What actually shifted something was smaller than I expected. I stopped asking what identity in christ meant in a theological sense. Instead, I asked a dumber, more honest question: who am I on a random Tuesday when nothing’s testing me?
And the answer was ugly. I thought I was whatever the last hard conversation had confirmed about me. I kept calculating my value from old mistakes as if they were due for payment. The habit felt automatic, and it kept shaping how I spoke to others and chose my tasks. It turned every small setback into proof that I failed.
Eventually I learned to measure myself by something truer than fault lines or conversations, and that shift began changing what I asked of myself each day.
“For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” — Ephesians 2:10
Moreover, this handiwork is not a fixer-upper.
We are made on purpose, for something specific.
I didn’t believe that about myself.
However, I believed I was something God put up with.
What it actually looks like now
Honestly, some mornings feel like nothing. I start by getting my kids fed, then I answer emails, and I forget I’m a daughter of the King about as often as I remember it. These small lapses occur about as often as I remember Identity in Christ. Still, I return to what anchors me.
That sense of belonging is not a feeling I can pull from anywhere. It remains steady when I choose to return to it. It remains what anchors me when I drift. I notice the drift less often as I practice daily reminders.
The thing that helped most was catching myself mid-sentence. I am such a failure with money. I always mess this up. I’m behind on everything. That realization shifted how I spoke about finances. It softened the sting of each setback.
I started noticing how many sentences begin with “I am.” These were my way of handing identity to a bad month. Or to a four-year-old mistake instead of to God. That awareness redirected my attention toward truth and toward a healthier pattern of self speech.
Philippians 4:13 is widely cited for everything from job interviews to marathons. Yet the verse is not about personal performance or outward results. It points to the true source of strength, which is beyond our own efforts. It reminds us to rely on God rather than on what we achieve.
Rather than celebrating breakthroughs alone, the passage teaches that real power comes from Christ who sustains us in every moment. It is not about what you pulled off. Nor is it about what remains a mess. The source of strength is Him, and He provides grace in all circumstances.
If you’ve read Fearfully Made, you already know this isn’t the first time I’ve had to relearn who I actually am.
If this is where you are, you may start here
Today you don’t have to feel different for it to be true. However, you can still claim this truth without fully believing it yet. I built this whole brand because I needed something to wear before I fully believed it — a daily nudge while my head caught up to what was already settled.
That hoodie became the first tangible reminder I wore daily, a simple cue as my beliefs caught up to what was already settled. If you want the same kind of nudge, the Daughter of the King hoodie offers you a friendly, practical prompt to reflect the truth you carry.
