Choosing Your Identity

When I was eight years old, my mum took me and my sisters on what was meant to be a two-week holiday to Nigeria. We were going to visit our grandparents. What none of us knew then was that I wouldn’t return for another 15 years. But that’s another story—for the book I keep saying I’ll finish one day.

Leaving behind a three-bed semi in Eltham and landing in Mushin, Lagos, was a major culture shock. Suddenly, five of us were living in one small room. We had 22 cats (yes, really), open drains, a communal bucket toilet, and a kerosene stove for cooking. If you had a two-burner stove, you were living the high life.

But in spite of all that, I was excited. For the first time, I was surrounded by people who looked like me. I thought: this is home. Growing up in England, I’d been made to feel like an outsider—different, not quite belonging. So I clung to the idea of being Nigerian. It gave me identity.

But Lagos didn’t quite accept me either. My British accent made me stand out, and the fact that we were a single-parent household didn’t help. I was teased, bullied and once again made to feel like I didn’t belong. So I switched. I started to identify as English. Because apparently, I wasn’t Nigerian enough either.

This constant back-and-forth taught me something important: identity isn’t fixed. It’s shaped by the environments we live in and the people we surround ourselves with. And more often than not, it’s shaped by our desire to belong.

Psychologists call this social identity theory. It suggests that we derive part of our self-worth from the groups we belong to—our ‘tribes’. Whether it’s nationality, culture, music preferences, or faith, the people we identify with influence our values and behaviours. And sometimes, those groups ask us to conform to a certain image—one that might not reflect who we really are.

Let’s take church, for example.

How many times have we walked through the doors and pretended everything was fine? Smiled when our world was falling apart. Said “it is well” when really, it wasn’t. We’ve learned to wear masks, because somewhere along the way, we picked up the idea that Christians must always be joyful and put-together.

But God doesn’t ask us to fake it. He invites us into authenticity.

Being a Christian isn’t about pretending. It’s about transformation. Paul says in Romans 12:2, “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” And transformation begins not with appearances—but within our hearts and minds. It’s not a one-time switch. It’s an ongoing process of being reshaped by God’s truth, not the expectations of the world—or even the church crowd.

That’s the tension I feel when I think about music, too.

I grew up on hip hop, R&B, a bit of The Police, Bone Thugs-N-Harmony… and, strangely enough, Enya. Some of the music I loved had powerful beats—but questionable messages. Violence, drug use, misogyny. At the time, I didn’t think too deeply about it. But now, especially as a parent, I find myself wondering: what message am I passing on to my kids?

Ephesians 5:4 says, “Nor should there be obscenity, foolish talk or coarse joking, which are out of place, but rather thanksgiving.” It’s a reminder that what we feed our minds matters. What we immerse ourselves in becomes part of us.

And that applies to more than music. Think about the messages we receive from social media, fashion, politics—even the clothes we wear. When I gave this preach at church in a royal blue djellaba I picked up in a Marrakech souk, you’d have thought I’d taken a wrong turn from the mosque. It was funny—but also telling. We make snap judgments based on appearance, and sometimes those assumptions stop us from truly welcoming others.

What if someone unfamiliar walked into our church today—dressed differently, speaking differently, maybe even carrying a rucksack? Would we welcome them with open arms, or quietly shift a few seats over?

The truth is, we all carry multiple identities—Black, British, parent, music-lover, LGBTQ+, introvert, extrovert, fashionable, traditional. But when those identities start to clash, we need to ask: which one takes priority?

Because not all identities are created equal. Some are shaped by the world; others are shaped by the Kingdom.

In today’s culture, identity is a hot topic—especially around sexuality and gender. It’s easy for conversations to become polarised, even hostile. But as believers, we’re called to approach all people with love, grace and truth. And also to acknowledge that sometimes, what we believe may not align with every identity we hold. That’s when the hard questions come: Who am I really? Who is God calling me to be?

Paul wrestled with this too. In Romans 7:19, he writes, “For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.” Sound familiar? That inner conflict is part of the Christian journey. But Paul doesn’t leave us hanging. He goes on in Romans 7:24–25: “Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!”

There’s hope. You don’t need to strip away everything that makes you “you” to follow Christ. But you do need to let Him be the one shaping you. Over time, as our minds are renewed and our hearts softened, our Christian identity becomes the one that holds all others together.

So yes—you can be a blue djellaba-wearing, hip hop-listening, Marvel-loving Christian. But if your playlists, clothes, or conversations lead you further from God’s truth, maybe it’s time to pause and reflect.

What’s shaping your identity today? Culture, comfort, community—or Christ?

Ask the Holy Spirit to help you renew your mind. The more we immerse ourselves in God’s Word, the more clearly we’ll see who we really are—and who we’re becoming.