I remember having a terrible identity crisis when I finally stopped being a student.
I had been a student, after all, for well over two decades. For that entire time I had a ready answer for anyone who happened to ask me what I did. "I'm a student," I responded confidently. It was an answer that was both true and respectable. Even when I was working during those student years, being a student always took precedence over the job. I was a student who happened to be a bank teller, for example, and not the other way around.
Upon graduation with my terminal degree in 1987, I suddenly had to figure out what I would be next. Oddly, I already had a good job at the time, but I remember being lost without the title of "student." And I had been giving that response for so long that I had to make a conscious effort to stop saying what was so familiar.
In fact, it took me several years to get comfortable with being something else.
Fast forward to today.
Several times this week, about to be introduced in different settings, the person who was speaking suddenly stopped, leaned over to me, and said in a whisper, "How should I introduce you? What should I call you? Is it still okay to call you a pastor?"
The people who asked these questions meant no harm. In fact, they were genuinely asking for guidance. All the same, I felt like an alien. Since I'm not crazy about the phrase "former pastor," I told them to go ahead and call me a pastor - though, technically, it probably wasn't the right thing to say.
I find myself in a brand new identity crisis. It's not likely to happen, but if I were interviewed on television, what title would show up beneath my name?
Having been a pastor for over two decades, I'm struggling with this odd time when I'm not technically a pastor at all. To be sure, I keep doing "pastorly" things. I'm officiating at weddings and memorial services. I'm talking to groups about mission trips. And I seem to be the only one who can give voice to a public prayer in most social settings. But it is impossible to be a pastor without a people. At best, a pastor is a shepherd - and there is simply no way to be a shepherd without some sheep. And right now, I don't have any sheep. So I might be a preacher or a speaker or a teacher, but I am not a pastor at this point. And I won't be a pastor again until God (in concert with a group of his children) calls me and invites me to take on that role.
In the meantime, I'm a man without a clear identity.
Well, actually that's not true. I have plenty of identities - just not the one I'm most comfortable with. Even without that particular title, I'm a husband and a father and a brother. I'm a dog walker and a grass cutter and a gym rat. I'm a reader and a writer and even an editor. I'm a spectator and I'm a participant. I'm a bill payer and a recycler.
And most of all, I am a child of God.
And that last title, I suspect, is plenty for now.
One day soon, I'm hoping to have some sheep to care for. This summer, I think I have finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up.
While I'm waiting for that to happen, I think I'll stick with child of God.