Who am I? Bonhoeffer & the Lord's Prayer: A Reflection

July 12, 2023

What has God been teaching me in this six month break?

The first thing I've been reminded of is this: vocation has nothing to do with my value


A good few years ago, when I was a newly ordained priest, I happened to be at the diocesan office for a meeting with the Bishop. It was there that I had a realisation: “Is this it?


In the moment I asked myself that question, God revealed something to me. Namely that I had subconsciously started to lean on my vocation for my identity. I was not doubting that God has called me to me ordained ministry. He’d made that crystal clear: out of the blue (and way outside my desires), God had called me. It had taken years to get there, but on that particular day in the diocesan office I realised that this vocation was finally manifest. And not only was that the case, but I had loaded onto it my sense of who I was and my value. Something it was never designed to bear.


Yet how often we try to do just that very thing! It seems to me that Genesis 3 is clear that this kind of mistake is part of the human post-Eden condition. Consider the three ways in which sin’s entrance into the world disrupts and disorders our lives. It disfigures:


  • Our relationship with the created world (“I will put enmity between you [the serpent] and the woman” in 3:15 and “cursed is the ground because of you [Adam]” in 3:17)
  • Our relationship with others (God says to the woman: “I will make your pangs in childbirth exceedingly great… your desire shall be for your husband yet he shall rule over you” in 3:16)
  • Our relationship with work and productivity (God says to the man: “In toil you shall eat of it all the days of your life; thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you… by the sweat of your face you shall eat bread” in 3:17-19)


It is part and parcel of the brokenness of the whole cosmos that our relationship with work is out-of-whack. It is hard, it is painful, it goes wrong and we often use it—like Adam & Eve used fig leaves—to cover our vulnerabilities, our nakedness and our shame. We can make it our identity, that which makes us confident and secure and gives us a sense of power and prestige. "I am a successful doctor/engineer/nurse/priest/lawyer. If this is who I am, then I must be okay!"


Gratefully I’ve come a long way since my ordination. But I’ll confess, stepping out of work for 6 months isn’t the straightforward breeze I fantasized it might be (though I am very grateful for the break). I didn’t magically become a kid again enjoying the boredom and freedom of summer break, free of responsibility or burden. There are bills to be paid, cooking, cleaning, dogs to be walked, and problems to be solved (specifically injured dogs, bust hard drives and expensive car repairs...). But more than that, stepping out of the employment stratosphere has brought up some questions.


Who am I when I’m not “producing”? Contributing or actively giving back to society? When I’m not preaching or pastoring or planning a worship service?


Who am I when the busyness is dialed back and I start seeing why I like to keep so busy in the first place?


***


Learning from those who came before: the wisdom of Bonhoeffer


Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a Lutheran pastor and theologian during the Second World War. He spent the last two years of his life (aged 37-39) in prison. He wrote many letters and reflections and he built some relationships in prison and offered some pastoral advice and care. But it was not an easy time, not least because of the inevitability that he would not get out of prison alive. Bonhoeffer wrote a poem, Who am I?, that explores how he was outwardly perceived by his prison-mates versus the fears he felt on the inside. Which one tells him of his identity?


Am I really then what others say of me?
Or am I only what I know of myself?


Bonhoeffer tells of how he was positively seen by others as confident, faithful and contented. “I come out of my cell… Like a lord from his palace.” Those outside tell him he has value. He is doing well. He is a positive example.  Yet Bonhoeffer’s insides tell a different story. “Tired and empty at praying, at thinking, at doing, Drained and ready to say goodbye to it all.” His insides tell a story of a fearful, exhausted man ready for it all to be over.


Am I one person today and another tomorrow?
Am I both at once? In front of others, a hypocrite,
And to myself a contemptible, fretting weakling?
Or is something still in me like a battered army,
running in disorder from a victory already achieved?
Who am I? These lonely questions mock me.
Whoever I am, You know me, I am yours, O God.


The poem concludes with the reassurance that whatever Bonhoeffer is – whoever he is – he is God’s. Nothing else will get him an answer that satisfies. The external world of affirmation and esteem from others. The internal world of our insecurities and fears. Only in God, only in knowing we belong to God, will we begin to find an answer that gives any real satisfaction.


***


Breaking the cycle with the Lord’s Prayer


In my experience, learning this lesson – that I am God’s – takes active and applied effort over the whole course of one's life. I need practices that help me cultivate habits of trust and cast aside old habits of fear. There are a few seasons of my life it has flowed easily, but many it has not. And whatever the cause, here’s one way I have found that to pray and actively shift my focus to finding my identity in God:


Give us today our daily bread

Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us.


How do these two petitions from the Lord's Prayer help me with my identity? Good question!


There’s a great saying from the recovery community: “Stop going to a hardware store to buy milk!” Stop trying to meet your needs in the wrong places and then wonder why you're so dissatisfied. Trying again won’t make success any more likely. The two lines above from the Lord’s Prayer offer a way to step out of the hardware store and a way to find spiritual milk where such milk can only be found.


In our sinful human nature, we do the following. We have needs and we try to meet these needs in all kinds of ways that will never work or bring lasting peace and contentment. Maybe I use my profession to get my value and self-worth, but that will only last for a while (or I’ll end up sacrificing myself on the altar of success). Perhaps you find your value in the strength of your relationship with your spouse or your children. It meets your need to matter or be seen or heard or understood. But when we misplace or get out of order the things God has created (i.e. work, family, relationship etc) we end up in idolatry, hurting ourselves and others. We’ll react to others negatively when they become unable to meet the needs we’ve somehow expected them to satisfy. We might feel hurt, resentful, unappreciated, even angry. And more to the point, we completely forget to factor God into the equation. The God of all creation, who has conquered sin and death, who is almighty, all-loving and all-powerful—that same God!—slips down our priority list and out of sight.


But with the Lord’s Prayer, I am given words to pray that help a divine reordering take place. I am God's so I trust my needs to Him. I am God's so I let go of the patterns of expectation and resentment that seek other things or people to satisfy me. It gives me a way through which I can step out of my chaotic and idolatrous thinking:


Give us today our daily bread becomes a petition and a reminder that God is the One who meets my needs both practical and spiritual. Where I can name my needs before Him and trust He will provide: Lord, I am worried about paying my bills this month. Show me how to trust that you will provide and see me through this tough time. Lord, I fear I don’t matter. Help me know my value is in you. Lord, I ache with loneliness and feeling unloved. Meet that deep need and show me I am never alone. Give me to today my daily bread.


Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us becomes a way for me to step out of the cycle and shame and blame that I’ve participated in: God, I let go of resentments where people haven’t provided what I’d expected them to provide: God, forgive me where I have wronged others and made demands from them that they could never meet. Forgive me where I have taken things you have given me and trusted in them rather than you. Forgive me my sins as I forgive those who sin against me.


My identity is to be in God, not in others' view of me or my own fears about myself. So I trust my needs to Him. I put off old ways that put my identity in other places.


***

In Conclusion...


In this six month season of rest and preparation, I am reminded of this: I am God’s. I belong to God.


The reason I confuse my identity at times is because I am trusting in something other than God to satisfy, to meet my needs. It might be for me vocation or work, but it could be anything - you can fill in your own equivalent. In praying the Lord’s Prayer, in actively believing Bonhoeffer’s words “Whoever I am, You know me, I am yours, O God,” I ground myself in God, I renew my trust in Him and – happily – am freed to do the things God is calling me to do without burdening them with things they were never made to bear.


God, I am willing to surrender my fears

and to place my will and my life

in Your care one day at a time.

Grant me the wisdom to know the difference

between the things I can and cannot change.

Help me to remember that I can ask for help.

I am not alone.

Amen.


By Suse McBay May 29, 2025
****** “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away.” I’m not sure if it’s true, but George Lucas, the creator of Star Wars, is credited as popularizing a big change in film production: not having opening credits. Instead of old Westerns and black and white films that began by naming the director, producer, key stars and so on, Lucas began the Star Wars films with the very famous line: “ A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away .” And then came the opening “crawl” that sets up the viewer for the story to come: "It is a period of civil war. Rebel spaceships, striking from a hidden base, have won their first victory against the evil Galactic Empire..." And so it sets up the story of Luke, Leia and Han Solo. Well, I want to suggest this morning that here in Acts 1 we have the opening words and “crawl” to the Book as a whole. And what sets the scene? Jesus’ ascension. *** In Acts 1, Luke recaps from where his gospel left off in Luke 24, with similar talk of the spread of gospel to the ends of the earth, that his disciples will be his witnesses, and his instruction to wait for the promise of God to come that is His Spirit, as well as, of course, Jesus’ ascent into heaven. But the Acts version has a specific focus: repeatedly mention the watching and looking of the disciples, the taking and lifting up of Jesus and the repeated mention of his destination: heaven. So why this attention in Acts' “opening crawl”? How does this set the scene for the story of the church that is told in Acts and continues today? Well, in contrast to the first victory in the opening of Star Wars, perhaps preparing for more victories to come, the Ascension grounds us in the defining, cosmic-shaping victory of Jesus that began with his resurrection and conlcudes with his exaltation in the spiritual world. Echoing Daniel 7, Jesus is taken up on a cloud, the chariot of the warrior-God, and is now enthroned to rule in heaven. The work of the church is done in light of this all-encompassing victory that has already been won. Christ is already King. But it’s not only that. Often we talk about Jesus’ ascension from a human perspective: his physical departure from earth. Here the disciples see for themselves Jesus’ exaltation and the opening of heaven: they are gripped by it. Through Christ’s entrance into and rule in heaven, he is made more readily available to us on earth. T he work of the church is done by living in a new space that recognises this opening of heaven: consider God’s promised Holy Spirit who comes in Acts 2, how angels appear here and throughout Acts, as well as people being healed, delivered from evil spirits, miracles taking place and people coming to faith . The spiritual realm is breaking in. So, this Thursday of 5th week, with deadlines, looming exams and soon-to-come ordinations: where will we look? Will we stare upwards and wonder where Jesus went? Or will we look outwards, and live in the light of the one who rules the heavens and has opened heaven to us, and for whom we wait to rule the earth as well? ******
By Suse McBay May 13, 2025
*** True Colours I was in a situation a few years ago where someone I trusted and expected to act in a certain way didn’t do so. In fact, they did they did the opposite. It hurt. It hurt because there were consequences that affected me, but it also hurt because I thought I knew the person, that I knew how’d they’d respond to pressure. When the rubber hits the road and things get real. Instead, their true colours emerged, and I was wrong. Who I thought this person was, and who they told me they were, was in reality quite different from who they actually proved themselves to be . The specifics aren’t for posting online, but I’m sure you can relate. Most of us can recall some kind of experience of someone we love, someone whose character we trust, letting us down. Someone who you might have believed in—maybe even defended to other people—choosing to do something that shows they weren’t worthy of that trust. Showing that your assessment of them was, essentially, quite different from the reality of who they are. They lacked integrity. Esther’s Example This term at Wycliffe, my colleague John is teaching his way through the book of Esther for the Bible expositions in chapel. Now the book of Esther famously doesn’t even mention God: so what is its purpose? Well, in part (as my colleague has been discussing), it’s a book about wisdom. Will we learn from the wise in the story: Esther (and Mordecai)? Will learn from the foolish: King Ahasuerus? The wicked: Haman? At the start of the book, Esther is a young, timid woman, who’d been through a lot. She was orphan and had been raised by her uncle. But she shows willingness and some social savviness and does what Mordecai tells her to do. By the end of the book she’s bold and courageous. Yes, she knows how to play the political game, but she does so in order to stand up for her people who are being persecuted by Persian imperial policy. She exposes Haman’s duplicitousness. Esther has a remarkable integrity and commitment to who she is and what she values. She is willing to risk her life to stand up for what is right, even knowing the cost. She has integrity. Her insides match her outsides as her character develops through the book. When We Fail Stephen and I go to a large Anglican church in the centre of Oxford. A couple of weeks ago, we had a visiting preacher (who is also a poet and philosopher) preaching about baptism. In the course of his sermon, he reminded us that who we really are is who we are when no-one is watching. And that Jesus died for us, knowing exactly what we do when the curtains are closed and no-one can see us. Again, it speaks to integrity—and that Jesus has come to deal with it. If everyone else thinks I’m a model Christian, but at home, by myself, I’m angry, compulsive, critical, selfish or greedy, the latter is a far more honest assessment of who I am and needs some spiritual help. It exposes a lack of integrity: I have an exterior self who looks one way, but an interior self (that I hide away) that looks quite another. What will happen when the pressure is on? That interior self will come out, one way or another. The good news is Jesus went to the Cross, even for that interior self. And with his help I can be forgiven, heal and become whole. That’s in part what baptism symbolises: me dying to all that ugliness and ungodliness. Naming it, owing it and leaving it with Jesus at the Cross, and then rising to a new life that where my insides match my outsides. A person of integrity. Learn from the Wise: Daniel 11-12 But what of the original situation: when others we trusted in and believed in have let us down? I’ve been teaching my way through the book of Daniel and its been fascinating to muse on this topic. Daniel 7-12 describe a series of visionary experiences that give God’s perspective on the political problems and extreme religious oppression that led to the Maccabean revolt in the 160s BC. These were largely due to the decisions of the Antiochus IV who was on the throne of the Hellenistic empire, a Greek of Seleucid descent. You can read about Antiochus IV in 1 and 2 Maccabees, but the snapshot version is that he installed puppet high priests in the Temple at Jerusalem, looted it for money to fuel his military campaigns, outlawed the Torah (including Sabbath observance and circumcision) and, most egregiously, desecrated the Temple with pig sacrifices and an altar to Zeus. These orders resulted in many faithful Jews having to try and keep Torah secretly. When discovered, those who had done so were public shamed and then executed (e.g. 2 Macc 6:10). It was miserable existence (2 Macc 6:9). Antiochus IV’s diabolical political rule was one thing, but the book of Daniel also wrestles with this: what do we do when our religious leaders let us down? When their outsides don’t match their insides? When we discover they are white-washed tombs (Matt 23:27)? The high priest and many other religious establishment figures were swayed by Antiochus IV at the expense of their loyalty to the Lord Most High. Daniel 11 and 12 in particular speak to this situation. Daniel 11:32 says that Antiochus will “seduce with intrigue those who violate the covenant” in contrast to “the people who are loyal to their God.” A few verses later we learn why: “Those who acknowledge him [Antiochus] he shall make more wealthy, and shall appoint them as rulers over many, and shall distribute the land for a price” (v.39). Antiochus used his power and means to get what he wanted, and those who showed more fidelity to him than to the God of Israel, got to share in that wealth themselves. So, what is Daniel’s answer to when the stewards of God’s covenant and teachers of God’s law reveal their true colours? When their words and who they’ve said they are don’t match up with who they have shown themselves to be? When those around us lack integrity, what are we to do? Well, it’s not to keep hanging on and believing in religious leaders who have proven themselves to be corrupted by political power (they are destined for shame and contempt, Dan 12:2). Daniel’s suggestion is to fix our eyes elsewhere instead: “ The wise among the people shall give understanding to many; for some days, however, they shall fall by sword and flame, and suffer captivity and plunder. ” (Daniel 11:33) Look to the wise. Look to those with understanding. Come to understand for yourselves. But this is not an easy answer. For these are the folk that get into trouble. Who perish by the sword. They don’t look like winners. This is perhaps why Daniel’s own response to the visions is one of weakness, fear and trembling. To understand and see reality for what it is can be deeply disturbing. In Daniel, understanding revolves around knowing God is God of all and all kings should have limits to their power. Even when kings like Antiochus IV trample on what is sacred, and transgress into the holy of holies—divine space—God through his angels is contending with powers beyond human ones and will bring all to judgement. But the waiting in the meantime will not be easy or pain-free. That’s why the promise of resurrection is so important in Daniel 12: it’s reassurance for the faithful—for the wise—to keep going. It is they who will be raised and will be like angels: "Those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the sky, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever." (Dan. 12:3) When those we’ve trusted and believed in fail us, God is at work. There may not be easy answers, and sitting with the reality of betrayal is painful, but God is not done yet. Sometimes what is happening is part of a much bigger, cosmic picture and God will intervene. Others’ words and actions may not line up, but ours can. Our insides can match our outsides and our words match our actions. With God’s help we too can become “ people who are loyal to their God ,” those who “ shall stand firm and take action. ” (Dan. 11:32) ****** Cover picture: John Everett Millais, Esther, 1863–65, Oil on canvas, 77.4 x 106 cm, Private Collection

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