"Charis. I could totally be wrong, but where do you stand with the Cross? Where do you draw your meaning and your identity from? Is your identity in Christ? Because, and again, I could be wrong, it seems like you're kind of like a Cheerio. A lone Cheerio in a giant bowl of milk and it seems like you're floating around, reaching for the edge of the bowl. You're trying to cling to something, but you're kind of just floating."

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Hearing these words, I didn't know how to react. I was stuck on the imagery of myself being a lone Cheerio. I didn't want to be a lone Cheerio. 

I had just poured out my heart and my insecurities regarding the way people perceived me, or at least the way I thought people saw me. 

I was so concerned with what I could've said in certain situations and what I could've done better. I was feeling overwhelmed with self-criticism, that the words, "lone Cheerio" cut me and my thoughts. 

More than that, I stopped and had to think about where my identity truly was. 

Was it with Christ? I thought it was. 

It bothered me. 

If I wasn't finding my identity in Jesus, where was I getting my worth and purpose from?

I'll be honest, I never liked admitting, nor ever really admitted that I actually sought out value in what people thought of me. I thought that everyone else was like that. 

"Everyone wants to be known as kind. Everyone wants to be seem as calm and wise." 

Anytime someone would share about their struggle with people pleasing, I'd sit there and think to myself, "I'm really grateful I don't struggle with that." 

The truth is though, I think I really do.

I have a habit of rehearsing most of what I say in larger group settings or in class. I perseverate on the thoughts I think others will have about me if I say something wrong or share something "too revealing" or "too vulnerable" by my own standards. 

It's quite prideful actually. 

I would assume the worst in people and try to be the best so that they'd like me or at least form a positive opinion about me. I didn't want to appear prideful, but I didn't want to appear closed off either. I wanted to be seen as this bright, cheerful sister that shows love to everyone, but I didn't want to be labelled as an attention seeker. I wanted people to talk about me, but I didn't want to appear like something I wasn't.

All the effort I placed into controlling my image and the ways in which people would perceive me only hurt my own self-esteem and self-perception. I knew that at some point I needed to work on how I viewed my self and thought that my time in Seoul would be the perfect opportunity to challenge that. 

Initially I viewed this trip as an opportunity to share my authentic self; the fearless, bold individual I strive to be at all times. I think I've done an okay job at doing that, however my desire to be liked and be viewed in a positive manner started to peek through. I started thinking about the ways in which I could have said things better, how I could have altered my facial expressions to appear kinder, or times where I could've changed my body language to appear more open and friendly. 

These things seem trivial, and not really far from how we should consider others when we converse with them. However, these thoughts started to get self destructive. 

"See how you mumbled and couldn't even get your point across? You're an idiot. You look dumb and immature. That person thinks you're an idiot now." 

"Why didn't you say hi? Why didn't you ask a better question? You could've gone beyond 'how are you' Charis. Now they think you're shallow." 

"You're being a nuisance by tagging along. Stop inserting yourself into things. They'll think you're annoying."

It was in confessing some of these thoughts in a passing manner that the sister shared her cheerio analogy. 

Though I didn't want to admit it, she was right.

Somewhere down the line, I decided to place importance on the thoughts and opinions of others rather than focusing on the way God sees me, the identity I vowed to form in Christ.

I was focusing on labels and validation that others were almost incapable of giving me. 

I'm not going to lie, having that realization was scary. 

I didn't want to be far from Christ and it was scary to see how I was not aware of the way in which I drifted from who I professed to be. A disciple. A disciple of Christ.

I was putting others before Christ. And that wasn't okay. 

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Having this realization however, didn't mean that it was the end of the world. It just meant that I could re-shift my focus. Re-establish my identity. Be rooted in Christ.

"Let your roots grow down into him, and let your lives be built on him. Then your faith will grow strong in the truth you were taught, and you will overflow with thankfulness." 

Colossians 2:6-7

It was in reading this scripture that the imagery of Jesus as our source of life and safety became so clear. We are all like an olive tree with its thick, vast trunk and roots that sink deep into the ground and rely on the nutrients and shelter that the earth provides. The deeper the roots, the more firm the tree stands and the better it can support the life that springs forth from it as it reaches new heights and cycles through the different seasons. 

How can we ourselves be rooted? What does it mean then to have an identity in Christ?

What helped me understand my own identity and shift the focus from others to Jesus, was to first understand and know my role as a disciple. We are handpicked ahead of time to be representatives of Christ. 

"For God knew his people in advance, and he chose them to become like his Son, so that his Son would be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters." 

Romans 8:29-30

Being chosen to represent Christ means that I am not living for myself. I live for Christ, which means that Christ's love is what controls me, not the thoughts or perceptions of others. 

"So we have stopped evaluating others from a human point of view. At one time we thought of Christ merely from a human point of view. How differently we know him now! 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 5:16-17

This new life means that Christ and his love comes first.

"Christ is also the head of the church, which is his body. He is the beginning, supreme over all who rise from the dead. So he is first in everything." 

Colossians 1:18

To love like Jesus means I must live as he did in God.

"But those who obey God's word truly show how completely they love Him. That is how we know we are living in Him. Those who say they live in God should live their lives as Jesus did." 

1 John 2:4-6

To live like and to know Christ is to suffer with him. 

"For the more we suffer for Christ, the more God will shower us with his comfort through Christ."

2Corinthians 1:5

"Yes, everything else is worthless when compared with the infinite value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have discarded everything else, counting it all as garbage, so that I could gain Christ and become one with him....I want to know Christ and experience the mighty power that raised him form the dead. I want to suffer with him, sharing in his death, so that one way or another I will experience the resurrection from the dead!" 

Philippians 3:8-11

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I've been keeping these scriptures in mind recently, meditating on my own role and belief in this participation and dedication to Christ's life, death, burial, and resurrection. 

How can I best emulate this love?

How am I showing my appreciation for my new identity?

Do I believe and live out Christ's life each day?

I find identity to be a challenging thing, especially when the world places such an emphasis on identity and using others as a means of validating it. 

But at the end of the day, we are all works in progress. 

I admittedly am still working on strengthening my roots and letting them sink deeper into Christ. 

I encourage you to also reflect on your own self, dig deep, and ask yourself where your roots are.