Lover

Who you are isn't so much what you do, but what you love.

This hit me one day when a friend wanted to know if we had a mutual friend in the Bay Area. Without even mentioning his name, he said, "He's an enthusiastic sports fan".

"Yes! I know him," I said. And I did! Then I realized how weird it was that I knew exactly who my friend was referring to just by hearing what it was that this person loved most. Initially, I found it amusing, but pretty soon it started bothering me. A lot.

Does this person take pride in the fact that he is known for being a lover of sports? I knew that I wouldn't be.

I know someone who loves the Steelers. I know someone who loves Switchfoot. I know someone who loves Snoopy. I know someone who loves Harry Potter, someone who loves makeup, someone who loves K-pop, someone who loves computer science jokes, someone who loves veganism, someone who loves spending as little money as possible. And I even know someone who loves poop. Ha! Some of you reading this can probably immediately guess who these people are, too. Is that funny? Or is it sad? Scary?

What do I love? What do others think I love? Do people see me as a lover of books? A lover of philosophy? Do people describe me as "the girl who obsesses over new, obscure music artists"? Or "the girl who does homeless ministry every weekend"? Or "the girl who is always engaged in theological debates"? What is it that I talk about, gush about, all the time? What is it that I enthusiastically share and discuss with others?

What is it that my mind runs to when I wake up in the morning, that it dwells on in the stillness of the night as I drift off to sleep?

I don't want my thoughts and my speech and my actions wrapped up in these things. More importantly, I don't want my identity wrapped up in these things. I am ashamed, mortified, terrified, at the very possibility.