The Labels We Choose

 

Society loves labels. Everything gets one — food, clothes, brands, products. If it exists, someone has decided it needs a category and a name.

But somewhere along the way, labels stopped being something we put on objects… and started becoming something we put on people.

And not just other people — we put labels on ourselves too.

Some labels come from childhood. Some come from hurt. Some come from people who didn't really know our hearts. And a lot of them come from moments we wish we could forget.

Labels like: "Too emotional." "Too broken." "Not enough." "Difficult." "Bad decisions." "Always messing up."

We start to believe those labels. We begin to wear them. We begin to answer them like they're our real names.

And here's the dangerous part: when we wear a label long enough, it stops being something we wear and becomes who we are. The label becomes our identity. It shapes how we see ourselves, how we move through the world, and how we relate to others.

I know this because I lived it. You know what makes me laugh now? When people describe me with words like "non-confrontational" or "peaceful."

I laugh because they didn't know me years back.

They didn't see the version of me that was quick to anger, always ready to fight. You know the one — "say it to my face," "I will fight whoever was talking mess." That was me. Always on guard. Always defensive. Always ready.

I wore that label like armor. I thought it made me strong. Untouchable. Protected.

But the truth? I was hiding.

Hiding behind aggression because I hadn't dealt with my trauma. Hiding because I didn't want anyone to take advantage of me anymore. My surroundings, the way I grew up — all of it taught me that the world was harsh and you had to be harder. So I stuck with it. I built walls and called them boundaries. I pushed people away before they could get close enough to hurt me.

That label was serving me well. I thought it was keeping me safe.

But really, it was just keeping me alone.

And here's what I've learned: the labels we wear — whether we chose them or they were forced on us — they shape everything. How we see ourselves. How we treat others. How we move through the world.

The question is: are they the proper labels? Or are we carrying labels that were never meant to be ours in the first place?

In 2 Corinthians 5:17, Paul writes: "Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!"

Read that again. The old has gone.

God doesn't call you by your past. He doesn't label you "adulterer" after you've repented. He doesn't call you "liar" after you've confessed. He doesn't stamp "failure" across your forehead because you stumbled.

Those labels? They're from the enemy. From shame. From people who don't understand the power of redemption. Sometimes they're even from our own wounded hearts that haven't fully grasped grace yet.

But they are not from God.

I think about the woman at the well in John 4. Society had labeled her. Five husbands. Living with a man who wasn't her husband. She came to draw water in the heat of the day — alone — because she couldn't face the other women. She knew what they whispered. She knew the looks they gave her. She carried the weight of shame and didn't want to be ridiculed.

She knew her label.

But Jesus? He didn't use that label. He didn't bring up her past to condemn her. He saw her. He spoke to her when others wouldn't. He offered her living water — a chance at something new, something clean, something that wouldn't run dry. And she became the first evangelist to the Samaritans, running back to the very town that had labeled her, telling everyone about the man who knew everything she'd done and loved her anyway.

Jesus didn't erase her past. But he didn't let it define her future either. That's what He does. That's who He is.

So here's the question that matters: What labels do YOU want to be known for — especially in the eyes of God?

And I don't mean surface-level answers. I don't mean the labels that sound good on paper or make us look respectable to others.

I mean the gut-level, soul-deep answer. The one that requires you to sit with God and ask: "Who do You want me to become?"

Because here's the hard truth: we can't just shed old labels without choosing new ones. Nature abhors a vacuum. If we don't intentionally step into the identity God has for us, we'll default back to the labels we've always known — even the ones that hurt us.

Before you panic, thinking you have to earn the correct labels, let me stop you right there. God has already labeled you.

In Isaiah 43:1, He says: "Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine."

You are Mine.

In 1 Peter 2:9: "But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's special possession."

Chosen. Royal. Holy. His special possession.

In Romans 8:1: "Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus."

No condemnation. Not "forgiven but marked." Not "saved but still carrying shame." The slate is clean.

In Ephesians 2:10: "For we are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do."

His handiwork. His masterpiece. Created with purpose.

These aren't aspirational labels. These aren't "maybe one day if you try hard enough" labels. These are present-tense, already-true, blood-bought labels that Jesus purchased for you on the cross.

You are already loved. Already chosen. Already redeemed. Already His.

But now comes the part that requires something from us. Knowing who God says you are is one thing. Living like you believe it? That's the journey.

Because I can know God calls me His beloved, but if I'm still operating out of fear and defensiveness, if I'm still hiding behind walls — then I'm not living in the freedom He died to give me.

Paul says in Ephesians 4:22-24: "You were taught, about your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; to be made new in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness."

Put off. Put on.

It's active. It's intentional. It's a daily choice.

So here's what I'm learning to ask myself — and what I'm inviting you to consider:

When people encounter me, do they walk away feeling seen or judged? Loved or lectured?

When my name comes up in conversation, what words follow it?

When God looks at my life, does He see someone living into the identity He gave me? Or someone still clinging to old labels out of fear?

We don't need a checklist. We need to ask ourselves one question: Am I becoming more like Jesus today than I was yesterday?

Not perfect. Not there yet. Just... more.

Because when we pursue Jesus — really seek Him, stay close to Him, let Him do the deep work in us — the labels start to shift naturally.

We become more loving as we experience His love. We become more grace-filled as we soak in His grace. We become more patient because we're resting in His patience with us. We become more humble as we see how much we need Him.

The labels worth carrying aren't the ones we manufacture through sheer willpower. They're the ones that grow as fruit when we stay rooted in Him.

Jesus said in John 15:5: "I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing."

Remain. Abide. Stay connected. The fruit — the labels that actually matter — they come from abiding, not from striving.

Jesus said it plainest in John 13:35: "By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another."

Not by how perfect we are. Not by how much Bible knowledge we have. Not by how well we perform or how impressive we look to the world.

By our love.

Love is the label that matters most. It's the one that shows the world who we belong to. It's the one that reflects God's heart most clearly.

And love — real love, the kind Jesus modeled — it's costly. It's uncomfortable. It requires us to lay down our pride, our need to be right, and our desire to protect ourselves at all costs.

Love means seeing people beyond their labels. It means extending grace when we'd rather extend judgment. It means staying when it would be easier to walk away. It means forgiving when we've been hurt. It means choosing compassion over condemnation.

That's the label I want. That's the one I'm asking God to grow in me.

Not because I'm good at it. Not because it comes naturally. But because it's what Jesus did for me, and it's what He's calling me to do for others.

I want you to really sit with this question. Don't skim it. Do not give a Sunday school answer. Really sit with it.

What label do you want to be known for in the eyes of God?

Do you want to be known as someone who loved fiercely? Who chose forgiveness over bitterness? Who remained faithful even when the storms came? Someone who reflected Jesus in the mundane, everyday moments?

Here's what I know: we become what we fix our eyes on.

If we keep staring at our failures, we'll stay stuck in failure. If we keep rehearsing our shame, we'll remain bound by shame. If we keep answering to the old labels, we'll never step into the new ones.

But if we fix our eyes on Jesus — if we let Him show us who we really are, if we let His truth drown out every other voice — we'll start to become what He says we are.

The labels you've carried up until now? Some of them were never yours to carry. Some were placed on you by hurt people in their own pain. Some you picked up along the way because you didn't know better.

But today, you get to choose.

You get to ask God: "What do You call me? Who do you say I am?"

And then you get to live into that answer. Not perfectly. Not all at once. But intentionally. Daily. Step by step.

Because the most beautiful labels we carry aren't the ones that describe who we've always been. They're the ones that show who God is making us to be.

So I'll ask you one more time: What label do you want to be known for?

Not tomorrow. Not someday. Today.

Yes, the world is watching. People will have their opinions. They'll assign their own labels. But here's the truth: the only label that truly matters is the one from God. His opinion. His declaration over your life. That's the one that defines you.

I used to be the person ready to fight at the drop of a hat. Now, people call me peaceful. That's not because I'm naturally calm. That's because God has been patient enough to keep working on me, gentle enough to soften my sharp edges, and faithful enough not to give up when I resisted.

The label "peaceful" isn't mine. It's His work in me.

And whatever label you're asking God to grow in you — whatever characteristic you want your life to reflect — it won't come from trying harder or being better. It'll come from staying close to Him. From letting Him heal what's broken. From believing what He says about you more than what anyone else has ever said.

You are not your past. You are not your mistakes. You are not the labels others placed on you in their pain.

You are His. You are loved. You are being made new.

That's the label that matters. That's the one worth wearing. That's the one that changes everything.