Am I Defined by Who I Am or What I Do?

In Batman Begins, Bruce Wayne puts down his stake in the identity debate: “It’s not who I am underneath that defines me, but what I do.”

It sounds cool, but is it true? If identity is a building, are your emotions the shifting fancies of an interior designer? Is the activity—what the people in the building do and produce—all that matters? Can you rip the structure down to its studs and start over, engineering what best suits the business you conduct? Should you?

Or is your identity more like a painting? Is what it does—the impact of your self on others—entirely dependent on what it is? Is beauty in the eye of the beholder, and all that matters is learning to appreciate and understand the artistic taste behind the painting? Do you get one lifetime to sit with the masterpiece of your self and meditate—to see new things, to be surprised by new layers of beauty and meaning?

There are problems with either definition. Let’s examine some case studies to see why.

The Trouble with Identity Defined by What You Do

Randy’s deepest conviction is that he can make himself whoever he wants to be through what he does—through habit and discipline. His goal is to achieve riches and success. He devours self-help books, trying to reconfigure and fine-tune his inner dialogue to that of a rich and successful businessman. It works, to a degree. He studied hard, went to the right schools, got into a good company, put in the overtime, schmoozed and networked. He’s self-focused and one-dimensional but is on his way to becoming who he wants to be.

However, there are three major problems with this vision of identity. First, it’s achievement-driven. Identity defined solely by what you do hollows out the soul. It lowers you to the level of a machine. Your value is determined by how well you perform a function. You either constantly upgrade and improve your efficiency, or you’re on your way to obsolescence (which, by the way, is still coming).

Second, there’s no forgiveness in this viewpoint. If identity is encompassed by actions and you are only what you do, then you don’t ask for forgiveness; you do better. Or explain it away. You don’t forgive others; you grade them. Or cut them out. Because identity is performance-based, you have a free hand to evaluate relationships in the crassest, most transactional terms. As soon as someone stops adding value, you have the right—no, the responsibility—to walk away.

Third, you become either insufferable or depressed when your identity is defined by what you do. Under identity-as-achievement, everyone is either a success or a failure. If you’ve reached your goals, that’s because you were clever and worked hard. You swell up like a giant, obnoxious balloon other people can barely see around, let alone enjoy. Or you’re a punctured, withered carcass of a balloon, only fit for the garbage.

The Trouble with Identity Defined by Who You Are

Sarah’s deepest conviction is that she should remain true to herself. She needs to listen to her heart—that quiet inner voice. This inner infallible self, let’s call her “Inner Sarah,” has always been there. It is her true, maximally empowered self. Sarah’s chief difficulty is staying in tune with Inner Sarah and not drowning her out or stuffing her in a corner. Inner Sarah may challenge Outer Sarah, asking her to take risks, make sacrifices, and follow a higher path. Outer Sarah gets into trouble when she stops listening to this true self.

There are major problems with this view as well. The first of which is that you will be unstable. If you’ve ever tried to “listen to your heart,” you know what an exercise in frustration this can be. Was that my heart that just told me to break up with my boyfriend or my mom’s voice? Your settled conviction, I knew in my heart I should tell my boss off and storm out, after ten year’s reflection becomes, I was pretty immature. Where do you get your moral and intellectual rubric to sort through these?

Another shortcoming with this position is the lack of accountability, which subsequently hinders any possibility for growth. If your identity is a matter of discovering your inner person, then you can hardly be trusted to this work, let alone someone else. If someone else doesn’t like what you did, said, or how you said it, your first assumption will be, That’s their problem—they don’t appreciate the masterpiece of me. When you a priori disregard outside criticism, you block off a major means of growth. Master artists filter out some criticism, not all of it. If being a “good person” is a matter of subjective taste, we’re headed for a sad society.

Is your identity a deep and settled persona? Or is it what you do—the sum of your choices which you can always redirect?  It’s both. The errors of these two identity convictions are self-determination and fatalism. Neither is true because internal and external identities interconnect.

Who You Are Shapes What You Do and What You Do Shapes Who You Are

Being and doing, or nature and self-nurture, work in tandem to shape your identity. There’s a back-and-forth, an ongoing conversation between who you are and what you do.

Perhaps one day, at the age of eleven, you decide you are a dog-lover. Because you feel this identity so deeply you do a lot of dog-things. You persuade your parents to get a dog, take on responsibilities of ownership, read and talk about dogs, and stop for every dog you see. This identity gets stamped deeper. If, however, you do none of that, you may still claim to love dogs, but you won’t identify as a dog-lover in the same central way. Who you are shapes what you do or that identity fades.

It works the other way as well. Let’s say one December, you decide your New Year’s resolution is to take up bicycling to get into shape. You begin with fifteen minutes, three times a week. Each week, you ramp up your commitment. You keep this up for 5-10 years. Now you’re biking at least a few hours every week. You will likely connect with other cyclists, buy more gear, think about it, talk about it, maybe even join some races. Because you keep doing this activity, bicycling will become about far more than fitness. It will become more of who you are.

Is the Christian Life Who You Are or What You Do?

A Christian is a Christian by grace alone, through faith, not by works—it is the gift of God (Eph. 2:8–9). Yet faith without works is dead (James 2:17). You can’t claim to be a Christian and do nothing that reflects that identity. That’s not how meaningful identity works. Being and doing have a symbiotic relationship.

The Bible gives primacy to who you are—your heart and soul. It’s possible to do the activities of a Christian while serving a variety of identities—an identity of looking good, being well-liked, or having a disciplined, moral life. Being and doing are still working together in those identities, but for a different purpose than you may present or even realize yourself.

This is why the Bible urges us to examine our hearts. What do you want? Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks (Luke 6:45). We need to keep our hearts with all vigilance, for from the heart flow the springs of life (Prov. 4:23). Ultimately, your identity begins and ends with what you love and worship (Matt. 22:37–39).

Christian identity, however, is not merely formed through nurturing your inner person. The Bible urges us to practice righteousness in order to establish your identity as righteous in Jesus (1 John 3:7). You don’t become an athlete just because you feel like one in your heart. “Every athlete exercises self-control in all things . . . so I do not run aimlessly . . . but I discipline my body and keep it under control” (1 Cor. 9:25–27). Your external Christian habits form, enforce, and solidify your internal identity.

Jesus transforms you from the inside-out and the outside-in. He promises to replace your heart of stone for a heart of flesh (Ezek. 36:26). He also says if you keep God’s commandments, it will be your wisdom and understanding (Deut. 4:6). In other words, if you practice holiness, it will begin to click—this is working out pretty well; this is the sort of person I want to be.

Identity formation works in cycles, either virtuous or vicious. Who you believe you are shapes what you do, and what you do reshapes who you are. As a Christian, you should do things that reflect who you are, but know that you are in Jesus because of what he has done.