What do you want to be when you grow up?

A seemingly innocent and well-intentioned question that every little boy and girl is asked. It sparks a multitude of thoughts and emotions. What excites me? In what areas am I gifted? Where is my niche? Where is that special place in this world where I will fit just right? These questions grow and change throughout our lives, particularly as we enter our college years. Now, our quest to find our identity, which began as that simple question from our childhood, becomes more pressing. What school will I go to? What will I major in? How many degrees should I get? These are often thrilling years as they are filled with the beginnings of the vision for our lives.

The aftermath of our college years, however, may not be so full of hope and vision. After dozens, or even hundreds, of job applications many realize that their bachelor’s degree simply wasn't enough. Or for those fortunate enough to find a job, after three years in a cubicle writing software or analyzing mortgage applications, somehow the shiny prospect of that dream job doesn't seem so shiny anymore. Especially for those who are working “temporarily” in an industry that they would rather not be working (e.g. the starving artist waiting tables) this is particularly true. Of course many people do find jobs that they enjoy. But even then, that age old question still comes back, “Where do I belong in this world?”

While the question “What do you want to be in when you grow up?” is indeed innocent, it is misleading because it ties our career to our identity. Just take a moment to analyze the question. First, it implies that identity is synonymous with vocation. You are your career. “What do you want to be?” “I want to be a scientist” not, “I want to be a human being, who is creative, kind and self-sacrificing and I want to work as a scientist.” And second, you will not find this identity until you “grow up.” Until then, you’ll have to wait to become someone until you finally get that phone call that says, “You’re hired!” you’ll be unable to assume a real identity.

This presents a number of problems. If my career gives me my identity, what happens if I am forced to work a job that doesn't fit with my own perceived identity? If I work as a secretary when I have a bachelor’s degree in biology, who am I? My gifts and education say one thing but my job says another. My sense of identity is mixed and unsettled. I certainly wouldn't tell people I am a biologist because that assumes I am working as a biologist. But I wouldn’t want to tell people I am a secretary either because none of my training and desires are for secretarial work. My identity is ambiguous. Also, if I have to wait until adulthood to assume this identity, who am I right now? Do I have to wait until I am a certain age to have an identity? Have I not grown up yet? (As an aside, one of my favorite little responses to this question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” was given by a delightful little girl, Amber Brier who said, “I want to be an Amber!” Yes, Amber – don’t lose that.)

A bus driver in Lexington Kentucky once joked with me, a man probably in his 60's, “Well Jesse, I’m still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.” Here is a man, who most likely was asked that same question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” This set him up to believe that he had never become anyone because he was just a bus driver. He may have felt, after beginning his work as a bus driver, that this was temporary. He is just working this job in the meantime until he finds a “real” job. 20 to 30 years later, he realizes that he is still a bus driver. And because of the expectation that his personhood is dependent on finding a “real” job, he feels he never has become a “real” person.

I can relate. All through my adult life I have worked as a server. It makes the best money for the hours and has always been my backup job to help me pay the bills. It’s not my real job of course. I would never tell people, “I am a server.” That makes me feel pretty lame. No. I tell people, “I am a conductor.” Oooo… ahhh… That always gets an impressive reaction. What is not so impressive is the follow up question, “So, where do you conduct?” to which I usually have to say, “Well, nowhere. I am looking for work as a conductor.” Then, I feel as though my true identity as a conductor is just a façade.

So from whence does our true identity come? Will we ever find that special place here in this world where we fit just perfectly? Certainly we all have natural gifts and we will generally be more satisfied as we are engaged in work that fits with those gifts. But the deep questions of identity and belonging go far deeper than work. These questions are a deep well which career can never fathom. A career is a temporary activity that we are engaged with in this world but can never satisfy the deepest longings to have an identity and a place to call home. C.S. Lewis said, “If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world.”

To the question we put in the beginning, “Where do we belong in this world?” The answer is, “We don’t.” We are not made for this world of disappointment and suffering. We are made for a perfect world with no discouragement, anger, frustration, cynicism, or hopelessness. We are made for the kingdom of light in which there will be nothing to harm or destroy us, but only boundless light and love in the presence of God and His Son.

“To the one who conquers I will give some of the hidden manna, and I will give him a white stone, with a new name written on the stone that no one knows except the one who receives it,” says Jesus (Revelation 2:17). This “name” is what we are looking for – our identity. We have give ourselves many names, “Server” “Biologist” “Student” “Mother.” But Christ gives us a new name, one that comes from Him and Him alone. And this is not a name that can be told at parties or put on a resume, but a secret name – one that “no one knows except the one who receives it.” So let’s stop pining after that elusive “thing we want to be when we grow up” because it will never fill that desire for belonging. Let’s instead follow hard after that “new name known only to the one who receives it.”