About This Series
Started during Pride Month 2025, this series is for anyone who’s ever been told they had to become someone else to be loved by God. It’s a journey of returning to the sacred self God created—especially for those whose stories have been silenced or shamed.
Read Romans 13:11–14
ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“Clothe yourself with the presence of the Lord Jesus Christ. And don’t let yourself think about ways to indulge your evil desires.” (Romans 13:14 NLT)
We live in a world obsessed with image, identity, and self-improvement—but rarely in ways that honor the sacred self God already created. From a young age, we’re taught who to be, how to behave, and what parts of ourselves to silence if we want to be accepted. Some of us spend years trying to become the version of ourselves that others will finally call good. But what if holiness isn’t about becoming someone else? What if it’s about remembering who we were all along—the person God saw and called good from the very beginning?
Part 2: Holy Unbecoming. He used to wear the blazer like armor. Not for fashion. Not for warmth. Not even for respect, exactly. But because somewhere along the line, he learned that dressing sharp could soften the room. A crisp collar made people look past the voice that trembled. A fitted jacket distracted from the way his hands always fidgeted. If he showed up polished, maybe they wouldn’t see how messy he felt inside.
The thing is, it worked—for a while.
Job interviews went smoother. Church folks smiled more. Even his family, once critical, started saying he seemed “more grounded.” What they meant was: he looked like someone they could finally understand. And let’s be honest—some part of him liked the feeling of being seen as competent, even admired. He got good at it. So good, he nearly forgot it was a performance.
But somewhere between the dry cleaning tags and polite smiles, he started to wonder who was underneath all that tailoring. He wore the blazer even on days he didn’t need to. Until one morning, standing in front of the mirror, something in him cracked. He slid it off, not in anger but in ache. For the first time, he didn’t want to be impressive.
He wanted to be real.
The process of unbecoming is not easy. Especially when the world has praised you for the mask you wear. It’s a slow shedding—layer by layer—of identities we’ve worn to survive. It’s the realization that holiness isn’t found in how well we’ve adapted to others’ expectations. It’s found in the brave return to the soul God breathed into us.
Paul’s words in Romans 13 are urgent: “Wake up… the night is almost gone… the day of salvation will soon be here.” This isn’t a threat. It’s a plea to step out of hiding and live fully in the light. To cast off falsehood—not just immoral behavior, but the exhausting roles we perform to win approval. To put on Christ is not to disguise ourselves in religion, but to be clothed in the love that sees us clearly and stays.
Paul writes that we are to “clothe ourselves with the presence of Christ.” That’s not an invitation to hide behind religious niceties. It’s a call to authenticity. Jesus didn’t perform holiness. He embodied it—through compassion, confrontation, hunger, grief, joy, and tears. To put on Christ is to strip away everything false, and dare to believe that our unvarnished, vulnerable selves are where grace meets us first.
Holy unbecoming is what happens when we stop striving and start listening. When we allow the Spirit to dismantle the false self and rebuild us in truth. It’s messy. Tender. Often misunderstood. But it’s also where freedom lives.
Letting go of who we were told to be isn’t rebellion—it’s resurrection. It’s the slow and sacred work of becoming the beloved we already are.
THOUGHT OF THE DAY
God doesn’t ask us to pretend. God asks us to be present. Sometimes the holiest thing we can do is lay down the mask and trust that what’s underneath is still worthy of love.PRAYER
God, I’ve worn so many identities just to feel safe. Help me lay them down. Help me remember who I am—who you made me to be—and give me courage to live from that truth. Amen.
Devotion written by Rev. Todd R. Lattig with the assistance of ChatGPT (OpenAI).