Let’s start with the obvious disclaimer that I hold no credentials as either a psychologist or a philosopher. A lot of very bright people have attacked this question for as long as we’ve been a sentient species. I’ll be surprised if this is a long reflection because there’s way more here than I’m willing to chew on right now.

However, as I was quietly mulling over things, I felt a prompt to at least touch upon this question.

One way to think about it is to think about the nature of one’s self. This, as distinct from other people’s selves. While some may rightfully note that we are all connected in some way, we will keenly debate about the nature of that connection. In the alternative, we are all distinct in some ways and it’s to that that I turn.

Let’s get something out of the way first. Either we are important (significant, meaningful) or not. If we, as individual people, are not important or significant in any context, than the question of who I am is rather simple. “I am insignificant.” “My life is of no real value.” We could get into the particulars of why a human life is insignificant or of no real value but it probably comes down to the belief that one just does not matter. This can either be because such a person perceives him or herself as having no value or significance in relationship to other people or things, or because the person concludes that he or she is just a bunch of meaningless molecules, like every other clump of meaningless molecules.

I’ll put it out there that the thing that most determines one’s significance or value is love. Of course, this is not the only thing that determines significance or value but I believe it’s the most foundational of the many other factors, most of which are taken as substitutes for love. Obvious examples of this are how we perceive our value through our work product or position and other areas where performance matters or by our wealth and social standing.

When we see our value in terms of stuff or standing rather than as one who is loved for who we really are, warts and all, we tend to see ourselves as more “important” than other people. This is very heady stuff. Put simply, we are inclined to think of ourselves a whole lot. Push this in a direction on the spectrum far enough and we arrive at narcissism, which is actually classified as a mental disorder, a perverted vision of reality.

If we see ourselves as loved conditionally, as many of us do, then that colors both our view of our significance and our normal daily behaviors. To the degree that we are loved for who we truly are (warts, bad mistakes and so forth) and not for what we provide to others, then we are on track for something closer to unconditional love. If the one(s) who love us gain no advantage from loving us (as Dallas Willard would say, “willing our good”) then there are basically no conditions and we are free to live into the monumental goodness that such a thing provides.

Having grown up with no real sense of this, I believed that my acceptance was to a large degree about what I could produce. Now, granted, that production included an immensely strong call to help others but, still, the measurement of my acceptance was how well I did at the things I felt called to do. I should say that I did not recognize this at the time. I know I was appreciated by many others who affirmed the things I did well, including relationships. But, in retrospect (and after years of therapy) I have to say that the subtleties of how and for what I (and others) are accepted is a major player in how we think of ourselves. It shapes our identity and that reverberates through everything.

Of course, all of the things that make me “me” would make quite a long list. And, the psychological pieces of that total just a single slice. But, what if the most significant of all of the pieces is this thing about love. I’d not have bet on that for most of my adult life. No, I’d probably have gone on about history and the forces of economics and politics and culture, the arts, philosophy, even theology, of biology, chemistry, physics, anthropology … heck: the normal departments at a university! But, love? Didn’t really study that one.

All of that flipped upside down, which will be no surprise to anyone reading these reflections. I mean, language doesn’t do a good job of expressing what it’s like to be instantly showered with unconditional love, coming out of nowhere with unimaginable force. On the one hand, nothing else compares. On the other hand, it defines everything else and the “everything elses” get seen much more fully. This includes one’s own self.

Who am I? I am fully loved by the only one who is capable of fully loving … a love that is not of this world. Do I feel this all of the time? Certainly not. Do I do a pretty rotten job of representing that love to others on a continual basis? Absolutely. But, neither of these facts diminish the value of what I know to be true. I cannot imagine the alternative. Well, I guess that’s not entirely true. It would be more accurate to say that to try to imagine the alternative would be a good definition of hell.

Sound dramatic? Perhaps. But, to consider who I really am as one who is loved fully by God is not something you just take sitting down. Nope. It’s a show stopper. At least that’s the way I see it! Thanks for listening.