Editorial Note: Mimi’s testimony reminds us that even at the lowest juncture of an identity crisis, God’s love remains our solid foundation.
My name is Mimi, and I’ve been blessed to be a part of CBCWLA over the past year. This church family has been such a meaningful part of my journey, and I’m grateful to be here tonight to share how God has worked in my life this past year.
So, a little about me: I’m a PhD student at UCLA. I’m a mechanical engineer by training. If you’re into MBTI, I am an ISFJ which stands for Introverted, Sensing, Feeling, Judging. Basically, I’m someone who values structure, reliability, taking care of others, and a just a little dose of perfectionism. I’m an only child. I was born in China, and I’m the youngest of my extended family. I grew up in a small suburb outside of Washington DC. I went to school in Pennsylvania. And my social security number is…well we don’t have to go that far.
As you can see, I’ve spent a lot of time defining myself by my work, my personality traits, and my upbringing. For much of my life, I found my identity in being a good student, an only child, and a ‘nice’ person. But this year, that foundation was shaken in ways I never expected.
- Firstly, I think many of us, especially those from Asian backgrounds, can relate to the pressure growing up to do well in school. From a young age, it felt like a lot of my worth was tied to my academic success. And for a long time, I did well—throughout high school and college, I was consistently the top student, getting good grades and many times annoying my friends when I’d get upset over a 94 instead of a perfect 100. It felt like I was on the right path to “success”, and the praise I received made me feel like I was exceeding expectations. But that all changed when I started my PhD. Suddenly, I was thrust into a difficult environment where I was working under a supervisor with very high expectations and a strict approach. What was once a source of motivation for me—meeting and exceeding expectations—became a source of immense pressure and crippling anxiety. The more I tried to prove myself and work harder, the more I seemed to fall short. My identity as a ‘good student’—someone who always excelled, always had the answers, always received praise—shattered.
- Secondly, another part of my identity that was shaken this year was my role in my family. Growing up as an only child, I had an idyllic childhood. I was surrounded by love and attention from my parents, and I never lacked anything. With my parents, I knew an unwavering sense of safety, comfort, acceptance, and belonging. However, things began to change when my mother passed away in 2018. Then, last year, when my father remarried, I found myself facing a heartbreaking truth: my identity as the only child in our close-knit family, the center of my parents’ world and them being the center of my world, was no longer the same. Suddenly, I had a new family—one with a stepmother and a younger stepsister. It felt like a part of who I was—something so foundational to me—was slipping away, and I didn’t know how to hold on.
- Thirdly, another aspect of my identity that was challenged this year was my sense of self as a “kind and caring” person. The past years, amid a toxic working environment and the changes in my family, I found myself becoming increasingly bitter, reticent, and resentful to all the people around me. The pressure at work, the constant struggle to meet expectations, the sadness of my family changing—it all built up in a way I couldn’t control. And in the midst of it, the worst of me came out. My dad, stepmom, stepsister, boyfriend, my closest friends became the targets of my frustration, and I said things to them I deeply regret. It was a painful realization to see how much hurt I was capable of causing to the very people who cared for me the most.
1 Peter 2:9-10 says “9 But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. 10 Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.”
I find it amazing that as Christians, God chose us—there is no other qualification. Why did he choose me? I do not know why; it wasn’t because of any merit or worthiness in me that set me apart. It certainly wasn’t because I was a hardworking or kind or caring person—in fact I fell short of every metric I tried to meet, yet he still chose me. There’s nothing I can do besides bow at his feet in humble acceptance. The gospel reminds us of the depth of our sin and need for salvation. Left to ourselves, we fall short, and our sin separates us from a holy God. When we unmask the human façade of self-delusion we are forced to confront our true natures—how warped and wounded we really are. In that tender place, we realize we cannot save ourselves and, in his mercy, he took our sin upon himself on the cross, absorbing the penalty we deserved, so that we might stand before him cleansed and forgiven. We are his possession—the ones he will walk among and reveal himself to over and over again in personal relation forever! He has given us a new identity in him in order that his identity might be proclaimed through us.
In my brokenness this year, God revealed his character and mercy to me. Despite the terrible words I spoke to my stepmom and stepsister, despite the pain and heartbreak I caused my dad, despite the horrible ways I took stress out on my boyfriend and close friends, I received patience, care, and understanding. The darkest parts of me were exposed but, I was not only accepted but loved. How amazing it is to be fully known (all the good and the bad) and yet be fully loved because of Christ! God saw my father and stepfamily’s heartbreak over my refusal to accept my new family and in his mercy, he opened my eyes to see their unwavering love and care for me that can only come from Christ. In his mercy, God also made a way for me to leave my stressful work environment and transition smoothly to another lab for my PhD. It wasn’t through my own fleshy striving but purely through his care that he that placed the right people in my life—those who encouraged me to leave, a program director who understood my situation, and a new lab with similar research that allowed me to continue without delaying my graduation time. His hand was evident in every part of this transition, surrounding me with professors who cared to ensure that I wouldn’t have the same experience again.
How humbling it is to realize that when our identity is rooted in what we achieve, pride follows our successes, while failure brings shame. Like Adam and Eve, we end up trying to cover our flaws with the “fig leaves” of good works, or we hide away, burdened by guilt. How amazing it is that the gospel offers us something far better! Through faith in Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection on our behalf, we are who we our—forgiven, loved, accepted, and good—not because of what we do but because of what God has already done.