Have you ever looked at yourself and wondered when you stopped recognizing the person you used to be? Not because you've grown, matured, or evolved, but because somewhere along the way, you began surrendering pieces of yourself to people, places, expectations, and experiences that were never meant to define you. Perhaps you became quieter to keep the peace, smaller to make others comfortable, or someone you barely recognized just to feel accepted, understood, or loved.

But what happens when the very things you embrace in pursuit of becoming begin to pull you further away from who God created you to be?

There was a season in my life when that question became painfully personal. I had recently come out of the hospital, was navigating unfamiliar territory, and found myself in one of the lowest places I had ever experienced. I was questioning my identity, my gifts, my calling, and even my understanding of where I belonged. I had experienced circumstances that left me feeling misunderstood, misrepresented, and uncovered. And somewhere in the middle of it all, I began to lose sight of myself.

I had moved away from the place where so much of my foundation had been established. What should have been a season of discovering and developing who God had created me to become was also a season where life seemed to challenge everything I thought I knew about myself.

Yet, through that difficult journey, I began to understand something that would change how I approached my life, my relationships, and the opportunities before me: I could not fully embrace who God was calling me to become while remaining disconnected from who He had already created me to be.

How could I confidently walk in my calling if I questioned my worth? How could I recognize the value of what God placed within me if I was constantly measuring myself against the expectations and opinions of others? How could I show up wholeheartedly for the people I was called to serve, love, lead, and encourage if I had not learned to value the person showing up?

I had to learn to appreciate the uniqueness of my own existence. My hair. My skin. My voice. My laugh. My personality. My gifts. Even the parts of myself that others had not yet had the opportunity to experience.

None of those things were accidents.

And neither are the things that make you uniquely you.

Sometimes, we become so consumed with being accepted that we begin to negotiate parts of ourselves we were never meant to surrender. We adjust our personalities to fit environments. We silence our convictions to preserve relationships. We allow someone's disappointment, rejection, criticism, or misunderstanding to become the measure of our worth.

And before we realize what has happened, we are living according to someone else's definition of who we should be.

I know what that feels like.

I know what it means to enter a relationship believing something beautiful is unfolding, only to discover that the very connection you embraced is slowly diminishing the person you once recognized. I know what it means to mistake an internal warning for fear or self-sabotage, when it was the Holy Spirit urging me to pay attention to what I was overlooking.

There were moments when I knew something wasn't right, yet I allowed what looked promising on the outside to outweigh what I was discerning within. And over time, I began to lose parts of myself.

The compassionate Renée. The joyful Renée. The Renée who loved deeply, laughed freely, and pursued God wholeheartedly. Not because those parts of me had ceased to exist, but because I had allowed an unhealthy connection to occupy so much of my emotional and spiritual attention that I was no longer nurturing the person God had entrusted me to be.

And that is something I want you to consider.

Not every opportunity that presents itself deserves access to you. Not every relationship that desires your presence is capable of honoring your personhood. And not every door that opens is one you are meant to walk through.

Sometimes, what appears to be an opportunity for growth can become an environment where you slowly compromise your peace, convictions, identity, and well-being. This is why knowing who you are matters. And even more importantly, knowing the God who created you matters.

Jesus said in John 15:4, "Abide in me, and I in you."

That word abide comes from the Greek word Menō, meaning to remain, stay, or continue. Among its lexical explanations is the idea of remaining in a particular state or condition, not becoming another or different.

For me, this carries a deeply personal reminder.

I am called to remain in Christ, allowing His presence, truth, and Word to shape my life. And as I grow in Him, I am not required to become a manufactured version of someone else to fulfill the purpose He has given me.

Neither are you.

You do not have to borrow someone else's personality to become influential. You do not have to abandon your tenderness to become strong. You do not have to silence your voice to be loved. You do not have to diminish your gifts because someone else does not understand them. And you certainly do not have to lose yourself to prove that you are worthy of belonging.

There is room for you to grow without becoming unrecognizable to yourself.

There is room for you to be corrected without being crushed, stretched without being diminished, and transformed without being stripped of your dignity. Because becoming is not about refusing to change.

Life will change us. Experiences will teach us. Relationships will reveal things about ourselves that we may not have recognized. Responsibilities will stretch our capacity. Some seasons will expose areas where healing, maturity, accountability, and development are necessary.

And sometimes, God will confront the very things within us that cannot accompany us into the next season. But there is a difference between allowing God to transform your character and allowing people or circumstances to erase your identity. One produces growth. The other can leave you questioning whether you were ever enough.

Today, I can say that I love who I am. Not because I believe I have arrived at some perfect version of myself, but because I have learned that I do not have to despise who I am while becoming who I am called to be.

I love the educator in me. The leader. The creative. The dancer. The woman who loves to laugh and sometimes makes others laugh without even trying. I love the woman who can sit in a professional environment and engage in strategic conversations, yet also find tremendous joy in the simplest moments of life.

These are not competing versions of me. They are expressions of the same person.

And I am still becoming.

There are things I have yet to learn, places I have yet to go, people I have yet to meet, and dimensions of my purpose I have yet to experience. But I no longer believe that stepping into something new requires me to abandon the essence of who God created me to be.

Perhaps that is something you need to hear today.

You can become a better leader without becoming someone who lacks compassion. You can pursue success without compromising your convictions. You can enter a relationship without surrendering your voice. You can embrace new opportunities without abandoning the values that have anchored you. You can acknowledge your weaknesses and pursue growth without treating yourself as someone unworthy of love.

And if you have lost yourself somewhere along the way, I want you to know that your story does not have to end there.

You can begin again.

You can rediscover the things that once brought you joy. You can learn to trust your discernment again. You can establish healthier boundaries. You can seek healing, receive support, and rebuild the parts of your life that have been neglected or wounded. You can return to God, not because He has forgotten who you are, but because sometimes we need to be reminded of who we are in Him.

As you step into new seasons, embrace new responsibilities, build relationships, and pursue the opportunities before you, I pray that you never become so consumed with what you are becoming that you lose appreciation for who God created you to be.

May you have the courage to grow, the wisdom to recognize what is not for you, the strength to walk away from what diminishes you, and the confidence to embrace the uniqueness God has placed within you.

Become. Grow. Mature. Heal. Flourish.

But through it all, remain rooted in the One who created you. And never believe that becoming who God called you to be requires you to become someone else.

Menō. Abide in God. Remain authentically you.