Royal Priesthood. Sheffield Postcode

The odd fear of being seen as God sees us

Something made me wonder, as I began to write the bio a Christian publication had asked for. “Writer, communicator, and… something else?” “God’s favourite?” It’s strange how quickly a simple task can turn inward.

There’s an odd feeling that creeps in when someone asks you to write a few lines about yourself for a Christian publication. A kind of squirming inwardness. Do you list your roles? Your calling? The things God has done through your life? Or do you keep it plain and vague, just in case someone thinks you’re getting ahead of yourself?

Even “Jon, servant of Jesus Christ” can feel a little weighty when you write it down. Servant? Really? Him?

We’ve been trained, whether consciously or not, to tread carefully around identity. To speak quietly about who we are, as if owning it too plainly might draw suspicion. After all, people get nervous when someone names themselves too confidently in church circles. We mistake false humility for godliness, and authenticity gets lost somewhere between the footnotes.

But then, Paul - flawed, opinionated, formerly violent - opens his letters with unambiguous humility. “Paul, a servant of Christ Jesus, called to be an apostle.” No caveats. No apology. No self-deprecation to soften the edges. Just the truth of who God made him to be. Clay, yes. But chosen clay. Called clay. Sent clay.

The awkwardness we feel in naming ourselves isn’t always humility. Sometimes it’s fear of being misread. Fear that if we say too much, we’re proud - and if we say too little… we’re being a little disingenuous. The thing is, it’s not arrogance to agree with God. It’s not pride to say what He’s said. Whilst the gospel speaks of the supremacy of Christ in all things, it doesn’t shrink those who are recipients of His great grace, mercy, redemption and reconciliation down into invisibility. It lifts the chin (telling us literally to look up)and steadies the voice - not because of who we are, but because of whose we are. And despite everything, we are His chosen people, a royal priesthood …

My bio is simple if ever you should ask; my name is Jon. I live in Sheffield. I teach, preach, pray and write. I walk with people through pain and promise as they navigate the prophetic ministry. I’ve seen the Spirit move with power in quiet rooms and crowded halls. And every bit of it is grace. None of it earned. None of it owed. But it’s real.

I’m not embarrassed by that. Though I’ve often felt the pull to make myself sound a little smaller - just enough to be safe. But the gospel doesn’t play by those rules. The same cross that strips us of pride clothes us with purpose. The same Spirit who convicts also commissions.

You don’t have to downplay what God is doing in you just to make others comfortable. That’s not humility. That’s hiding. And the Church doesn’t need more people hiding behind vague bios. It needs sons and daughters who can say, with joy and honesty, “This is who I am. This is what He’s called me to. And this is the grace that makes it possible.”

I am, like you, a servant of Christ Jesus. Not in the abstract, but in the costly, beautiful, everyday reality of following Him, tripping up, brushing the knees and following again..

And if that sounds too bold - well, blame the gospel. It always was better news than we were ready for.