Secret Identity

So many people to be…so little time. A recent article in Wired titled Hunting the Ghost reminded me why, for a while, I wanted to be an investigative journalist. I’ve also been reading Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories over the break, while simultaneously streaming the first two seasons of the BBC’s Sherlock Holmes – a surreal experience that has put me in a detective-loving mood and filled my dreams with riddles.

But back to the story in Wired about “the world’s best bounty hunter,” a woman named Michelle Gomez who does something called “skip tracing.” In the words of the article, “a skip tracer finds people and things that have disappeared on purpose. Gomez specializes in hard-to-locate recoveries. She prefers cases others can’t solve.”

How Sherlock of her.

The article went on to tell the story of Gomez tracking down, not a criminal mastermind, no modern-day Moriarty, but a criminal who stumbled on a genius method of distraction. This bad guy discovered that by creating multiple identities via the Internet, credit cards, and social networking, his true identity became so obscured that it left him practically untraceable. Not untraceable for our Sherlock, of course. Gomez made short work of him.

…he confided that three days before his capture he’d had a feeling something was wrong and thought then about moving to a new location. “I wish I had listened to myself,” he said.

Gomez laughs when she hears this. “Maybe he lost track of which self he was, until I came along to remind him.”

by Melissa Rose

And I thought, I’ve done that. Lost track of which self I am, where my identity is found. Haven’t we all? In an age of “self-branding,” we use social media to create different versions of ourselves about which only we know the real truth or lie.

This is nothing new. People have been fooling themselves and others since people first walked and talked. That was the great thing about Jesus. He came along and instantly knew who everyone was, better than they knew themselves. He happily shared his knowledge:

• The women weren’t chattel, the children weren’t burdens, the old and poor and sick weren’t useless. They were important, valued, and the kingdom of heaven belonged to such as them. 
• The religious elite weren’t good or God-fearing. They were “white-washed” tombs, full of darkness and death, who couldn’t even manage generosity, let alone righteousness. 
• A group of uneducated fishermen weren't beaten down men stuck in dead-end jobs. They were the strong rocks on which Christ would build his church and save the world.

Then there was one of my personal favorites: the encounter with the woman at the well. Jesus gently cuts through all the “branding” that had been done to her and by her, and then does the thing she needs most, though she hadn’t realized it. He reveals who He is, her Savior, her God, the only place in which she could find her true identity: “If you knew who you were talking to you would ask me for the water that gives life.” The woman reveals she’s been hoping for the Messiah, that she believes when He comes He will “explain everything to us.” Jesus tells her simply, “I am that one, and I am speaking to you now.”

Jesus is very clear on who we are and who He is. This is no secret to Him. We are the confused ones. Through the static and the noise and the digital identities we create for ourselves, He speaks. Ignoring the false names we call ourselves and others, He’s happy to tell us who we are.

"I am speaking to you now."

Down all the wrong paths we’ve taken (He, too, prefers cases that others can’t solve). Despite the ways we’ve been branded and the lies we’ve believed and our stupid, stupid pride.

"I am speaking to you now."

We drink of the water He offers, and He names us: Chosen, Holy, Blameless Before God. Beloved, Redeemed, A New Creation.

I forget sometimes who I really am...until He comes along and reminds me.