Isaiah 43:1
But now thus says the Lord,
he who created you, O Jacob,
he who formed you, O Israel:
“Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name, you are mine.
Discovering Identity rooted in Him
They call me by my name, Florienne.
That’s on my birth certificate, that’s what’s on my ID, that’s the name my family uses when they’re serious about something. Honestly? I never liked it. It felt heavy. Outdated. Like a name I was handed instead of one that was mine.
So I go by Yen. Or Yen-Yen, if you’re close to me. But depending on who you ask, I’ve also been Miss Yen, Rienne, Yennie, Yhen, Florie, take your pick. Everyone’s got their own version of me.
And that’s the thing nobody tells you about identity: it’s not just the roles we perform. It’s not just student, daughter, mother, partner. It’s not just the names people call us either. It’s all of it, all at once, and none of it actually settles the question.
If there are that many versions of who I am, depending on who’s talking to me, which role I’m playing, which title I’m holding, which one is actually me?
I used to think if I could just get the roles right, be enough of a daughter, enough of a professional, enough of a woman, I’d finally feel steady. Or if I could just find the right name, the one that finally fit. But I could perfect every role and rename myself a hundred times and still feel like a stranger to myself, if the only people defining me were people who only ever saw part of me.
You can’t build an identity out of what people expect from you, or what they call you. You’ll spend your whole life shape-shifting to whoever’s in the room.
So here’s where it changed for me.
I stopped needing to be figured out by everyone else, and I started letting myself be known by One.
He doesn’t call me by whatever version is convenient for Him. He’s not confused about who I am depending on the day, the role, the room. He’s not asking me to succeed to be accepted, or perform to be loved. He sees past the identity, the pressure, the expectation, past Florienne, Yen, Rienne, Miss Yen, whoever, and He still says: I know exactly who you are, and I’m not going anywhere.
And if His name alone is holy enough to be honored above every other name, then when He calls me by mine, that’s not casual either. That’s Him speaking over my actual character, my actual worth, not the version I performed that day. Being known by Him isn’t just comfort.
It’s honor.
That’s what I actually needed. Not somebody who says my name right. Not somebody who’s impressed by which roles I’m carrying well this week. Somebody who sees underneath all of it and stays.
I can’t call You just Lord. Not just Savior. Not a title checked off on a form.
You are the One who knows the ache before I can name it, not by adding to what I carry, but by taking the weight of it off my shoulders.
Call me whatever You will.
Ask of me whatever You need me to hold today.
I know whose I am.
Jeremiah 15:6
Your words were found, and I ate them, and your words become to me a joy and the delight of my heart, for I am called by your name. O Lord, God of hosts.
Not a name I made for myself.
Not an identity I earned or built.
Called. Named. Claimed.
And in that, fed.
iamjustsayen 
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