Remember nameplates? They were trendy when I was a teenager in the 90’s. I, for one, wore my gold “Sarah” proudly! The plated gold wonder helped proclaim to the world I was unique and special, with an “h” at the end of my name. As I grew older, I stopped wearing my gold nameplate, yet I carried with me still an undeniable sense of identity. I was a good Christian girl who always dreamed of being a global worker, a wife, and a mother.  

My husband, our two sons, and I served in Asia for almost nine years, where we spent some of the best years of our lives. 

It’s there where my husband had his first grand mal seizure–unresponsive for several minutes–and I thought I had lost him. I cried out to God to please bring him back to me. God answered, and he recovered to spend six more years in ministry in Asia!  

It’s there where we oriented over 150 new global workers to the field. We helped them adjust to a country we loved with all our heart, introduced them to our friends, and helped them begin their lives there well.  

It’s there where our oldest son trusted Christ and was baptized by our Indonesian pastor.  

But God wanted more for us than just success in ministry, more than just happiness or comfort or even good. He wanted the best.  

And that meant letting it all end.  

He brought us back. My husband’s seizures returned, and moving back to the US became our only viable option.  

It hurt. More than we can describe. It was a grieving process deeper and more real than any I could have imagined. Loss of identity is real and hard and ugly.  

But it is for my good.  

The Psalmist reminds me that my responsibility is to honor the Lord and humbly accept what He says is true of me. What does He say about us? We are beautiful to Him. His daughters. His bride. This is who we are. Rejoice, sister, for your identity is secure!