Have you forgotten who you are?

I’ve lost count of the number of times I watched The Lion King with my siblings as a child. The 1994 animation flick was standard viewing in our house on weekends, and our VCR was well-worn from how many times we played the much-adored tape over and over again — even though our young minds could reel off entire sections of dialogue by heart. 

Almost 20 years on, the poignancy of certain scenes can still affect me as much as they did back then, like the one where Simba ‘speaks’ to his father from beyond the grave. So depressed and desperate is the runaway lion king that he cannot help following Rafiki into a dangerous cave when the eccentric baboon promises to show him that Mufasa is still alive — even though Simba knows all too well his dad had gone to the place of no return. 

Whether what he goes on to see is a dream or a mere projection of his own deep desperation is still up for debate, but the substance of his conversation with the ‘vision’ of his father is a far more interesting subject for reflection. “Simba,” says the fearsome ghost of Mufasa in the clouds. “You have forgotten me.”

“No! Never!” cries the aghast son, in whose eyes his father had always been larger than life.

“You have forgotten who you are, and so forgotten me,” returns the late patriarch.

Although it was more of a reminder than an accusation, it was enough to render Simba speechless — and I dare say, if we applied a spiritual parallel to our own lives, we might find ourselves at just as much at a loss for words.

A question of identity

How often we find ourselves plumbing the depths of despair like Simba was. Perhaps things — a treasured relationship, a career opportunity, a personal goal — didn’t quite work out the way we thought or even hoped they would. Disappointments are not uncommon in this life, and they’re often the ‘manageable’ sort. But every now and then, something happens that sends our internal compass spinning so completely out of control, we can’t tell North from South anymore. Depending on how great the blow was, we may not even know who we are anymore — and the torment of it will be enough to make us run.

Not all great escapes involve distant countries. Running away has many faces. You could bury yourself in work or a new pursuit. You could become stoic and proud, hardening your heart against any more hurt by telling anyone who’ll listen that you don’t care. You could turn to positive psychology, yoga or even ‘comfort food’. But if you think outrunning your past is tough, try outrunning God. I did. 

Not intentionally, of course — but unwittingly. It was going rather swimmingly too. For years, I threw myself into work, new friendships, even church ministry. There were blessings without number. But when I finally did break, I — like Simba — couldn’t recognise myself. 

“Remember…”

It’s incredible how much of our well-being hinges on knowing exactly who we are — but that’s how we were made. Anyone who has found themselves adrift without an anchor on that particular sea knows how unbearably agonising that question can be. But the thing that dragged me back to shore? I remembered.

It’s incredible how much of our well-being hinges on knowing exactly who we are — but that’s how we were made

When the clamouring in my head was reaching peak decibel levels — telling me I was nothing, would never be anything, and most unbearable of all, that God had abandoned me — His Word became my lodestar, pointing me due North, and back to the only One who could give me rest for my defeated soul.

I remembered there was nowhere I could go — not Sheol, not the deepest sea, not the darkest night — that he could not find me (Psalm 139:7-12). I remembered He is intimately acquainted with all my ways (Psalm 139:3). I remembered His promise to never leave me nor forsake me (Hebrews 13:5). I remembered His assurance that nothing, absolutely nothing, could separate me from the love of God in Christ (Romans 8:35-39). 

Most of all, I remembered who I am in Him: His child (1 John 3:1, Galatians 4:7) and fellow heir with Christ (Romans 8:17). Contrary to the whispers of that old liar (John 8:44), the truths of His Word washed over my soul with a healing none else could provide: I am loved (John 3:16, Romans 5:8, 1 John 4:10); redeemed (Isaiah 44:22, 1 Peter 1:18-19); complete (Colossians 2:10); and free (Romans 8:1-2). 

Head home to the Solid Rock

For many of us who gladly identify as Christians, our knee-jerk reaction to being told we’ve forgotten our God would be to be highly affronted. Yet, we live like slaves — to our emotions, our insecurities and our addictions — instead of like children of the Heavenly King. When we forget who we are, we have forgotten Him.

If the season you’re in right now is making it difficult to tell which way is North, look up and remember who you are in Christ. Lose yourself in His Word, and surround yourself with faithful friends who will remind you of its truths. We don’t need to return to Pride Rock (that would be a disaster) — just to the Solid Rock. And you can be sure all of heaven will erupt with great rejoicing every time a runaway child comes home again.