“And what’s your name?” The secretary at the chiropractic office asked.

            “Nazli Flores!” 6-year-old me responded enthusiastically.

            “That’s a beautiful name!” She said.

            “Thank you! It means beautiful and delicate in Arabic! And Flores translates to flowers in Spanish!” I confidently exclaimed.

            As children we are confident in who we are. We are willing to shout from the rooftops who we are, and what we have accomplished. Not only was I Nazli, but I always made Principal’s Honor Roll, my mom was the school secretary, my dad was an aviation mechanic, and I was a very smart girl, and I made sure everyone knew it because I was proud of it. As a child I was loud, and I was sure of who I was and where I came from. Likewise, I also loved going to Wal-Mart for one particular reason: when my mom wasn’t looking, I would run off and grab one of the bikes from the bike section, and I rode that bike confidently up and down every aisle Wal-Mart could offer. I always made sure to grab the prettiest bike too- one with training wheels, sparkly streamers attached to the bells, and a seat adjusted to fit my 3 to 4-foot stature. I often wondered why it was that people stared at me, nonetheless, when I was finished with my joyride, I would head to customer service and tell the employees that I lost my mom.

            “Martha Flores, we have your daughter here at the fitting rooms. Martha Flores, your daughter is looking for you, and we have her here at the fitting rooms.” The kind ladies would say through the loud intercom of our local Wal-Mart.

            Was I worried about how everyone in Wal-Mart knew my name? No. Was I now thinking about how everyone knew I had gotten lost? No. Or about how much fun I had and how much my mom would be mad at me for embarrassing her? Yeah, a little bit.

            My point is, when we are young, we are boldly assured of who we are. We go and we do things fearlessly. We don’t need people’s approval, and we don’t feel bad about doing things we love, and how well we do them. Like riding bikes with training wheels all around Wal-Mart.

            In spite of the joy I found in riding those bikes, there came a time when I stopped riding bikes around Wal-Mart because it was embarrassing (it was also not allowed), and I stopped telling people what my name meant, and even stopped telling people “it’s pronounced NAW-ZLEE”, because if it can’t be found on a keychain, then it’s probably too hard to pronounce. So I accepted Natalie, Nancy, and fifty other variations of Nazli, because I didn’t want to “bother” people with the correct pronunciation of my name, time and time again. That, and low self-esteem. Soon enough, I also accepted “too shy”, and “not good enough”. The little girl who used to be loud and confident, became shy and reserved. Through the daily comparisons, depression, and everyday battles of my adolescence, the song within me became silent. I sought perfection, people’s approval, and aimed to please everyone around me, like some of us tend to do as we grow up. The childlike wonder and confidence we all have eventually fades as we are faced with our everyday lives and insecurities. We no longer see ourselves worthy of riding that sparkly bike, and we forget who we are.

            More so, there are times when we feel as if though we’ve lost our identity, when really, we’ve never even discovered it. When we give in to the lies we hear about ourselves, and when we give way to the storms ahead of us, we start to believe those lies. As I started to discover and experience God’s love for me during my teen years, I received revelation about my identity. Meanwhile I heard others tell me I was worthless, not good enough, and useless, I could hear God say I was worthy, called, chosen, and loved. How many times did I wage war with God Himself? Too many to count. I refused to accept God’s grace and love because I was so wrapped up in the shame of my daily failures and in the perspective I had of myself. Somehow the dreams I had were far too big for someone like me to accomplish, but there must come a time when we wave our white flag and surrender to God, and choose to see ourselves like He does. We must be that 6-year old self, and when presented with the prettiest bike in all of Wal-Mart, grab hold of it, and not question whether we are worthy of riding it.

            I wish I could say there was finally a moment when all of those insecurities about myself just broke off, and I became confident again, but I don’t have one. It has been a process, and a compilation of moments. When you are firmly planted in the love of a God who knows no bounds, and as my pastor once said, begin to know God as a Father before you know Him as a judge, you will begin to see yourself as He sees you. I needed to see myself as His daughter, before I came to see myself as a worship leader, musician, student, mentor, daughter, or friend. Finally came the moments when I could look at myself in a mirror and I could say with confidence “I am beautiful, and I am fearless, and I was created with a unique purpose for this earth like no other, and I will continue to believe that.” Finally, came the moments where I chose to trust that if God promised me something, He would show up, and He surely has. Now, there are many more “finally” moments I am waiting for, but I have come to learn that that depends on me. Whether I choose to look at myself as He does, or choose to look at myself through the lens of my failures- that’s all on me. When you come to believe in God as your Father, friend, and as the One who will love you no matter what, your identity is then found. Before you are your stature, position, social class, salary, degree, or even calling, you are a daughter or son of the Most High God. You are bold, you are brave, you are loved, and you are important because He is all of those things, and you were uniquely made in His image.  

            At 20 years old, I am more like my 6-year-old self than I was in the years in between. I am a daughter of the most-high God, entrusted with a powerful purpose, called and chosen, and extravagantly loved. So if you were to ask me who I am, I could tell you that when I laugh too hard, the same rasp I hear in my dad’s voice is found in mine, and that when I smile, my eyes squint really hard just like his. When I look into a mirror, I see the same tint of brown in my eyes that my mother has, and I too am blood type B-Plus, with a hint of compassion and chaos, just like her. And while I find all these same reflections within myself, I have come to understand that I am my own person, and that it is the reflection of my heavenly Father in me that empowers me to walk fearlessly, to love fearlessly, to speak fearlessly, and to sing the song within me, fearlessly. For I am His, and He is mine.