Redefined. I’ve ruminated on this word for a while now; and it’s funny how you never really take notice of a word (especially the common ones) until you take notice of the word – the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon if you may. Because the more I’ve sat with this word, the more I’ve seen its prints interlaced in my daily life. So, just what does it mean to ‘redefine’? The prefix ‘re-’ means ‘again’, ergo, the verb that follows it (in this case, define) is repeated/done again. On the other hand, to ‘define’ according to the trusty Merriam-Webster dictionary is ‘to determine the essential qualities of’. To redefine therefore implies that a previous determination of the essence of something had been made but now, it is being done again. Afresh. Anew.
To be honest, but I have a love-hate relationship with redoing things. On one hand, I am a perfectionist and often ensure that all the work I do is to an acceptable standard. It therefore irks me when I must redo something because the implication is that my best is not good enough. On the other hand – especially when I may have inadvertently fumbled the first time around – I welcome opportunities for do-overs because that means there is grace; that there is room for improvement. For more. For better. I appreciate what an arduous challenge it can be to unlearn already established beliefs/habits that no longer serve you, and then re-learn new, healthier beliefs/habits. Neuropathways can be very difficult to break and re-wire; but oh! What boundless growth lies on the other side of the of redefinition, by God’s grace.
As I was mulling over the concept of redefinition and tried to find a not-too-personal example I could use, The Holy Spirit unfurled my hands that were clasping so tightly personal experiences I would rather not share, pointed to them and told me saying, “Those. Those are the ones to use.” Suffice to say, the mulling session ended up in praise and thanksgiving and a healthy dose of apprehension.
Such is human nature; but I’m grateful that God does not give us a spirit if fear; but of power, and of love, and of sound mind (2 Timothy 1:7).
The year is 2021, second half of it. I had just joined nursing school (and it was HEAVY). That semester saw me experience an unpleasant cascade of events. And when I thought my cup of affliction could hold no more, my mum suddenly fell ill. That was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. And I came undone. Long story short, I ended up failing that semester, which offset a cataclysmic identity crisis.
You see, I grew up in a setting where education was revered above all. As such, good performance was overly emphasised, heavily awarded; and the weight of expectation on a ‘high achiever’ could very often be crushing. Additionally, ‘being bright’ became a mark of one’s identity. I was one such student. Consequently, when I failed that semester, I felt a deep loss of sense of self. Because this was the first time I had EVER had a weighted average of a fail in academics. Like, a proper absolute fail, not the Cs I thought were synonymous with failing. And so, if I was no longer a ‘bright kid, who was I? Was I ever good enough? I felt like an imposter. I took on the failure as a new identity, and it was a debilitating. I know it sounds a tad dramatic now, even to myself looking back. But not when I was in the trenches. I did go to therapy for an extended period (story for another time) but let me tell you of when God stepped in, or rather, when I found my way back to God, because He most certainly wasn’t the one who had moved.
The human nature is very interesting; we’re inclined to seek what is familiar which is why we often fall victim to confirmation bias: a subconscious tendency to seek out and believe ideas already align with our beliefs, however erroneous they may be. I had always been ‘bright’ but now I had failed, ergo, I was a failure. And I fought with God and with myself for a long time in those trenches, unwilling to let go of my erroneous truth. But that the thing about redefinition. It requires faith.
Ellen White tells us, Faith is not a happy flight or feeling; it is simply taking God at His word – believing that He will fulfil His promises because He said He would.
And so, I decided to claim the God’s promises, that if Jacob could be transformed from a supplanter to a father of nations; if Gideon could be transformed from fearful Israelite to mighty military leader and judge; and if Paul could be transformed from a persecutor of Christians to a soldier for Christ; then I too could receive a new frame of mind. And I did! I no longer root my sense of worth and identity in fleeting, fickle things; but in who God says I am, who He is calling me to be. It is a daily fight, but His grace has been and continues to be sufficient. God is in the business of transformation and redefinition. He just needs a mustard seed-sized faith and a willing heart. Trust me, I would know!