Unfiltered Identityনমুনা

STOLEN IDENTITY

Devotional:

There are seasons when it feels like we’ve lost who we are—not because we forgot, but because wounds, failures, or others’ judgments convinced us we don’t deserve to be called God’s children. Like the prodigal son in Luke 15:11–24, we often confuse identity with performance and worth with approval.

The prodigal didn’t just leave home; he left his father emotionally before he left physically. He believed his worth depended on what he owned, and when he lost it all, he thought he’d lost his name, too. But the truth is, the son never stopped being a son, even when his decisions took him far away. Sin can distort your vision, but it can’t erase your adoption.

When the young man “came to his senses,” he said, “I will go home to my father and say, ‘Father, I have sinned’” (Luke 15:18). Notice that—“came to his senses.” He didn’t just return to a house; he returned to the awareness of his true identity. The first step toward restoration wasn’t the father’s forgiveness—it was remembering who he was. He knew that, even feeling unworthy, he still belonged.

Then comes one of the Gospel’s most powerful scenes: the father runs to meet him, embraces him, puts a ring on his hand, a new robe on his shoulders, and sandals on his feet—symbols of dignity, authority, and inheritance. The ring spoke of position, the robe of covering, the sandals of freedom. God does the same for you. When you return, He doesn’t point a finger—He restores. He doesn’t replay your failure—He reminds you of your identity.

There’s an enemy always trying to steal that identity. He did it with Adam and Eve: “Did God really say…?” (Genesis 3:1). He tried with Jesus in the wilderness: “If you are the Son of God…” (Matthew 4:3). Same strategy—sowing doubt about what God already declared. But when you know who you are, the enemy loses his leverage.

Sometimes we haven’t lost identity—we’ve let others define it. We let past labels, cruel comments, or failures shout louder than the Father’s voice. Today God reminds you: you are not your mistake, not what they said, not what you lost. You are what heaven proclaimed over you before you were born—loved, chosen, redeemed.

God isn’t waiting for you to come back clean so He can hug you—He cleanses you in the hug. He isn’t waiting for you to earn favor—He gives it freely. When you come home, He doesn’t receive you as a servant, but as His beloved child. That’s the heart of the Gospel: the Father’s love running toward you, even while your feet are still dusty.

Prayer:

Father, thank You for not defining me by my failures but by Your love. Thank You that when I wandered, You never stopped waiting. Today I return with humility and hope. Restore in me the identity the enemy tried to steal. Remind me I’m Your child—not by merit, but by grace. Let me walk each day with the confidence of one who is forgiven and loved. Amen.