Becoming the Person You Were Created to Be

Every decision we make is shaped by the answer to one question: Who do I believe I am?

Long before we change our habits, careers, relationships, finances, or circumstances, we begin living from an identity.

The problem is that many of us never consciously chose that identity. It was handed to us—by our environment, our mistakes, our families, society, success or failure, what happened to us, and sometimes simply by the group we wanted to belong to.

Eventually, we can become so accustomed to an identity that we stop questioning whether it was ever ours to begin with. I know because I lived it.

You cannot consistently live beyond the identity you continue to believe about yourself.

Growing up in the Bay Area, I learned early that people could have an idea of who I was before they ever knew me.

I was young. I was Black. Later, when I moved into a more suburban environment, I experienced racism and was called the N-word.

At the same time, I was developing my own idea of what someone like me was supposed to look like. There was an urban image. A way to dress. A way to talk. A certain crowd. There were things like stealing and “pulling licks”—taking from people who seemed to have more than we did.

I didn't wake up one morning and consciously decide, This is my identity. It happened gradually.

Belonging can quietly become identity.

Sometimes identity is formed simply because belonging feels safer than being different.

I remember having a neighbor I used to rollerblade with. I genuinely enjoyed it. But as we moved into late junior high and high school, we stopped hanging out. He wasn't part of the circle I associated with at school.

Looking back, that says something much bigger than rollerblading. I was allowing the group to help determine who I was permitted to be.

Then consequences came: probation, youth-management programs, REACH programs, Scared Straight, and eventually Boys Ranch. Those programs were addressing things I had actually done, and I needed accountability for my choices. But as a young person, I also absorbed another message: Maybe this is just who I am.

Ironically, something began changing at Boys Ranch. I met young men whose circumstances and behavior were much more serious than mine, and for perhaps the first time I began thinking: Maybe I'm not as bad as I've convinced myself I am.

My past could explain where I had been, but it didn't have the authority to decide where I was going.

Scripture takes identity all the way back to the beginning:

“Then God said, ‘Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness…’” — Genesis 1:26

We were created intentionally. Sin distorted humanity's relationship with God and with one another. And all of us have made choices that fall short of what God created us for.

But the Gospel doesn't tell us to build our identity around our worst decision. Jesus offers forgiveness, reconciliation, and new life.

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” — Romans 12:2

Jesus doesn't merely offer forgiveness and leave us unchanged. In Christ, we are made new—and that new identity begins transforming how we think, love, work, lead, serve, and live.

God knows every mistake I've made. He knows every choice. But He doesn't confuse my mistakes with my purpose. There may still be consequences. There may be things to repair. There may be repentance required. But failure doesn't get the final authority to name me.

Years later, I started recognizing something about myself that looked nothing like the identity I had carried when I was younger: I'm a people builder.

When I entered the life-insurance business, my background initially delayed my ability to get licensed. I had already passed my test and had quit my job believing I would be able to start working immediately. I couldn't.

So I started booking appointments for other agents and making recruiting calls. Then I found myself speaking into agents—encouraging them, giving them advice and tips, trying to help them improve. I wasn't being paid to develop people. I simply enjoyed doing it.

Eventually I became licensed, built teams, and realized that many of the personal-development principles that had helped me could help other people too. Before I even knew to call them frameworks, I was trying to create frameworks—to compress something that had taken me years to understand so somebody else could understand it faster.

Sometimes you discover part of your purpose by noticing what you naturally give away before anyone pays you for it.

When I was younger, I stopped rollerblading with someone partly because I was concerned about fitting into my group. Years later, I was walking into groups trying to change the atmosphere.

I had gone from asking, “Who do I need to be so these people accept me?” to asking, “How can I help these people become better?”

Knowing is the foundation. But knowing alone isn't transformation. Eventually, what you believe has to affect what you do.

One of the biggest changes in my life was simply beginning to believe that different possibilities were actually possible for me. I became fascinated with success, learning, dreaming, and personal development.

I started imagining the kind of man I wanted to be. How would he live? How would he think? How would he work? What would his family look like? How would he dress? What habits would he have? How would he carry himself?

Then I started practicing it. There was a period when I wore suits when nobody around me was wearing suits. Then ties. Then bow ties. It wasn't really about clothing. I was giving an outward expression to something I was rehearsing internally.

Journaling became important to me. So did planning, visualization, writing goals, studying, and spending time alone thinking about where my life could go.

I learned from people such as Tony Robbins and Les Brown. I went through programs, attended events, sought mentors, and became a serious student of growth.

I remember meeting Les Brown at an event with my son. He took a liking to us, took a picture with us, exchanged numbers and invited me to reach out. Over time, I began cultivating a relationship with someone I had previously learned from at a distance.

Paper and pen can begin freeing you from what you can currently see.

Your circumstances constantly provide evidence for why things can't change. Sometimes you need somewhere to describe what isn't visible yet.

For Christians, this shouldn't be confused with the idea that merely thinking about something magically causes it to appear. Biblical faith is deeper than positive thinking.

“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” — Hebrews 11:1

We don't simply declare whatever we want into existence. We trust God—and then become willing to walk faithfully before we can see every outcome.

People sometimes ask: How do I get away from negative friends or an environment that's pulling me backward?

One of my answers is: Get busier. Not busier for the sake of being busy. Build goals that require something different from you. Create new activities. Enter new environments. Learn new skills. Go somewhere where people are doing what you're trying to do.

I became more serious about my goals for my family than I was about people's approval.

Sometimes becoming isn't about adding something new. It's like sculpting. You chip away what doesn't belong—old habits, old thinking, old environments, the need for approval, and versions of yourself that can't go where God is taking you.

The Perry Group Identity Framework — Know → Become → Live → Reset & Repeat.

Eventually, identity has to leave the journal. You have to live it.

How do you know you're actually living your identity instead of just talking about it? For me, one of the simplest tests happens at night.

How do you feel when you put your head on the pillow?

Forget the bank account for a moment. You could have a million dollars and know you didn't live according to your values that day. You could have almost nothing financially and still know: I showed up today. I kept my word. I worked. I loved my family. I moved forward. I took another step toward the man I'm called to be.

There is fulfillment in that. Because confidence isn't only something you say. Confidence eventually needs evidence.

In fatherhood, I've tried to show up—be involved at school, communicate with teachers, work with my son, and invest in his development. Over time, teachers, coaches, parents and other people have noticed. Their praise doesn't determine whether I'm a good father, but sometimes the fruit of your work becomes visible to other people.

Leadership works similarly. I've had the privilege of helping many people improve their income and build successful careers.

You know you're leading when you're not the only person winning.

If everybody around the leader is losing while the leader succeeds, something is missing. Leadership should multiply. A people builder should eventually leave stronger people behind. That's fruit.

Living your identity does not mean perfection. You'll have bad days. You'll get tired. You'll lose focus. You'll behave below your own standard.

The danger is allowing one bad decision to resurrect an old identity.

Never miss two days in a row.

Miss once? Reset. Didn't work like you said you would? Reset. Didn't show up as the father, spouse, leader, or follower of Christ you wanted to be? Own it. Then reset.

Identity isn't reinforced by never falling. It's reinforced by returning.

I've never believed I should expect extraordinary results from ordinary preparation.

Don't expect lobster with McDonald's work habits.

If you want a fire, bring wood. If you want a different result, create the habits capable of producing it. Planning isn't enough. Talking isn't enough. Vision isn't enough. Eventually you have to execute.

Think about an oak tree. If you strike a different part of the tree every day, you can exert enormous effort without bringing it down. But continue striking the same place—again and again—and eventually the tree falls.

Consistency concentrates effort.

Maybe you're reading this thinking: I've already wasted too many years. I don't have the right background. I don't have enough money. Other people are ahead of me. I've made too many bad decisions. Maybe this simply isn't my moment.

I would tell you: Stop treating your life like a cup of water that you've already poured out.

Those years happened. You learned. You experienced. You survived. You may have consequences to deal with, but even painful experiences can become material God redeems and uses.

The thing you believe disqualifies you may eventually become part of what equips you to help somebody else.

You don't control everything that happens next. Nobody does. But you can take 100% responsibility for your response, your preparation, your decisions, and your next action.

If somebody else seems ahead of you, let them be ahead. Run your race. When you're constantly looking sideways, you're spending attention on somebody else's lane. Put that energy back into yours.

If you don't have financial resources yet, develop skills. Build value. Create sweat equity. Become more useful to the marketplace. Learn. Work. Serve. Improve.

What can I become that creates opportunities I don't currently have?

Life has seasons: fall, winter, spring, summer. You don't control when summer arrives. But you can decide what you're wearing when it gets here.

You may not control the season, but you can control how you prepare and how you show up in it.

There were periods when I couldn't work effectively where I lived. So I went somewhere else. Sometimes I worked from my car. Sometimes I parked near the water. I created an environment with fewer distractions because that's what I needed in that season.

You may not be able to change everything today. Change something.

1. Begin with gratitude.

Before the world starts telling you what's wrong, intentionally remember what's right.

2. Do something difficult.

Exercise, run, lift, clean something you've been avoiding, or complete an uncomfortable task. Get a deliberate win.

3. Work from a list.

Write down what matters, execute, then use the list as evidence of what you actually did.

4. Journal from identity.

Write: “The kind of person I am…” Then describe how that person works, loves, leads, serves, handles money, and responds under pressure.

What would someone in my position do if they knew what to do?

Want to become an engineer? What would an aspiring engineer who knew what to do today actually do? Want to build a business? What would a serious business owner do today? Want to become healthier? What would a healthy person do today? Want to become a stronger father? What would an intentional father do today?

Then take one step. Don't spend your entire life planning your transformation. Enter the activity phase.

Take ten minutes today and write down:

Who does God say I am?

Who am I becoming?

What would that person do today?

Choose one action. Do it. And tomorrow—do it again.

You don't need to become somebody else. You need to discover who God created you to be—and become willing to live in agreement with it.

That requires humility, faith, responsibility, and action.

Becoming who you were created to be begins when you humble yourself enough to discover who God says you are, become honest about where you are today, and start taking daily actions that agree with where you're going.

Then something changes. You don't have to keep telling yourself you're becoming different. You have evidence: the journal, the completed list, the difficult morning, the promise you kept, the person you helped, the child you showed up for, the temptation you walked away from, the day you failed—and came back the next morning.

Your actions reinforce your habits. Your habits shape your character. Your character strengthens your identity.

The goal isn't becoming someone else. The goal is living out who God created you to be.