Who am I?
18m | Feb 22, 2026It's a question we all ask ourselves at some point. Frightened of the answer, we often accept the glib response encouraged by advertising, or social media, or well-meaning friends, and move quickly on. But pause; stay with it for a while. Let it do its work. It becomes uncomfortable, difficult, unsettling. We're not sure how to answer. We're not even sure what those three words mean when put together like this. Who am I? A name? An occupation? A wife, husband, mother, father, son, daughter? Me?
It is THE existential question, and not a modern one. It is the question at the heart of Jesus' temptation in the wilderness; 'IF you are the Son of God...'. 'Am I? Doubt. Questioning. It arises out of the Fall in Genesis, when humanity first asserted its prerogative to rebel against God. Created as the 'image of God', as sons and daughters of the Creator turn their backs on the One that loved them, and became 'wise', suddenly knowing right from wrong (of course, they had no knowledge of 'wrong' beforehand), and, aware that they were 'naked', became 'ashamed' where there had been no shame, for shame is a consequence of the knowledge of guilt. So they hid from each other and from God. And the question arises 'Adam, where are you?'. Hiding among the trees of the garden (thank God for trees). The question has become, who am I?
Lent, then, is the time of the desert, when all is stripped away and the questions laid bare in the bright glare of sun on white, dessicated bone. Welcome to the question...
Poem: 'Instructions for the desert' by Cynthia Fuller
OT: Gen 2:15-17, 3:1-7
NT Rom 5:12-19
Gospel: Matt 4:1-11
