I love my heritage, you know?
And yet lately I’ve been wondering if I love it too much.
If it keeps me stuck.
If it’s become more important to me than the One that it’s really centered around.
I love my family, but I’m well aware of our imperfections. Of the fact that while I’m a part of that system – while I have some traits and characteristics that are very much reflective of that system – it’s not all that I am.
I am more.
I am different.
And yet that doesn’t require me to shed my fondness for the system.
My gratitude for the goodness that system gave me.
I think it’s the same thing I feel for the religious system within which I grew up.
Such a great love for my heritage there.
Maybe it’s the comfort of familiarity. The safety of knowledge. Because I know the language. I know all the routes and the shortcuts and the people to call to get things done. I don’t even have to think about it. I just know. Because I’ve always known.
Working outside of that system is almost foreign. There are similarities, but still, it’s different and it takes a little more time and effort to figure out the names and the places and the way to accomplish the same things.
But children were made to leave home, weren’t they?
To go out into the world and represent the family well, right?
To be ambassadors for the name that you bear and those who also wear it.
Sometimes that name opens doors for you, and sometimes it closes them in your face.
It almost becomes a constant battle to live up to or live down the name you carry.
I think it’s more important that I simply go about the business that He called me to, instead of worrying about the system I’m in or the name I wear.
It’s just about being him. Everywhere I go.