The average North American spends 93% of their life indoors — padded, protected, temperature-controlled. We love comfort. It's an organizing principle of our lives. We'll do almost anything to avoid being uncomfortable.

But it doesn't matter how much money you have or how proactive you are. Discomfort still finds you. There's the small kind: the moment when you wave back at someone who wasn't waving at you (or the time I told a friend "Congrats!" because I thought she was pregnant...she wasn't).

And then there are deeper categories of discomfort. The strain of a fractured relationship. The pain of a body that's aging. The financial fear that quietly runs in the background. The discomfort of trying to be faithful to Jesus in a place like this.

Let me define "this." I live in a country I'm thankful for. It values peace. It has a legal system shaped, however imperfectly, by biblical notions of justice. It's favourable to churches in many ways. It has good hockey. But for all its virtues, it isn't the Kingdom of God. There are laws that govern it and ideas that animate it that contradict what God has said in Scripture about human flourishing. We want the Kingdom of God but reject the King. We want justice but reject the Judge. We want reconciliation but reject the cross. We want peace but reject its source.

So how are you supposed to be a Christian in a fractured place? It's uncomfortable. And we'll do almost anything to avoid being uncomfortable. So there's a constant pull to compromise what you believe—a steady temptation to soften the edges of your faith. Pressure to live a neutered version of Christianity that doesn't upset anyone, doesn't rock any boats, and never stands out.

The Old Testament book of Daniel was written during a similar moment. And it shows us how to thrive in faith when the surrounding culture isn't.

Babylon and the Boys from Judah

Daniel opens at one of the darkest points in Israel's history.

"In the third year of the reign of Jehoiakim king of Judah, Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon came to Jerusalem and besieged it. And the Lord delivered Jehoiakim king of Judah into his hand, along with some of the articles from the temple of God" (Daniel 1:1–2).

Read that again. The Lord delivered Israel into the hands of Babylon. God Himself had raised Babylon. Centuries earlier, He had warned Israel through Moses and, later, through Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and others: stay faithful, and you'll flourish; abandon the covenant, and judgment will come. Israel wouldn't listen. Eventually, Babylon was the rod God used to discipline His people.

But Babylon's rise was on a leash. Habakkuk wrote about Babylon: "You, LORD, have appointed them to execute judgment; you, my Rock, have ordained them to punish" (Habakkuk 1:12). Jeremiah said the empire would last seventy years and then be punished itself. To Israel, Babylon must have looked unstoppable. They had the strongest army, the greatest wealth, and it was the most impressive city the world had ever seen. But Daniel reveals the truth: Babylon was just a tool in God's hand. When their job was done, so were they.

Sit with that for a second. Every political shift, every military battle, every decision of kings — orchestrated under the sovereign hand of God. Who controls history? Who is sovereign over the affairs of the universe? Don't ever be fooled. God is in charge. He's the ruler behind every ruler, in control of whoever is in control. There is never a time when God is not King.

And the same God who moves empires has your life in His hands. If He can govern history, He can govern your story. If He can direct the rise and fall of nations, He can direct the details of your days. Don't fear. Don't doubt. God is always in control.

Then we meet our four heroes:

"Then the king ordered Ashpenaz, chief of his court officials, to bring into the king's service some of the Israelites from the royal family and the nobility — young men without any physical defect, handsome, showing aptitude for every kind of learning… Among those who were chosen were some from Judah: Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah. The chief official gave them new names: to Daniel, the name Belteshazzar; to Hananiah, Shadrach; to Mishael, Meshach; and to Azariah, Abednego" (Daniel 1:3–7).

Daniel and his friends were about 15 or 16 years old. They were marched 800 miles from home and dropped into the palace of Nebuchadnezzar — the most powerful and ruthless king the world had ever seen.

In the Bible, Babylon is more than a place. It's the personification of human arrogance and rebellion against God. The story starts in Genesis with the Tower of Babel — humanity making a name for itself in defiance of God — and culminates in Revelation, where Babylon is the name given to the final opposition against God Himself. So when you read "Babylon," don't think in terms of geography. Think spiritually. Think whatever sets itself up against God.

Canada is not Babylon. That's an unmeasured comparison. But the spiritual war Babylon waged on Daniel's heart is the war that's being waged on yours.

The First Move: Steal Their Identity

The first thing Babylon does to these four young men is strip them of their identities: a new school, a new diet, a new language, and new names. Babylon wanted to reprogram them. Their God-fearing, Yahweh-loyal lives wouldn't do. To make use of these men, physically removing them from Israel wasn't enough. Babylon had to remove every trace of Israel from their hearts.

If you've put your faith in Jesus, you belong to Him. To be a Christian is to be named by Him. The Bible describes it as having a new citizenship in heaven. Just as being a Canadian citizen means I'm governed by certain laws and shaped by certain values, being a citizen of heaven means I'm spiritually governed by heaven's laws, shaped by heaven's values, and under the leadership of King Jesus. My greatest loyalty is no longer to the country I belong to, but to the God I belong to. Nations rise and fall, passports expire, but the name of Jesus endures forever.

That means at times, the kingdom of this world and the Kingdom of God will collide. And if you don't know who you are, you won't be able to resist Babylon.

To be clear, this isn't an "us vs. them" sermon. Christians ought to be the best citizens of any nation. Jeremiah tells us to seek the peace and prosperity of our city. Paul tells us to be subject to governing authorities. Jesus tells us to be salt and light. So we pray for our city. We work for its good. When the Olympics roll around, paint your face red and white, grab a double-double, and cheer for Canada. When elections come, vote with the Spirit and the Word as your compass. But when the values of the land collide with the values of heaven, when the laws of the land are in opposition to the laws of the Lord, Jesus comes first. All the time, every time. No matter what.

And if you don't know who you are, you won't have the courage to resist when it counts.

Two Lies About Identity

Their enemy attacked their identity. Our Enemy attacks ours, too. If Satan can convince you that you're something other than what God has already declared you to be, the walls of your life crumble, and the Enemy rushes in to take what isn't his.

So I want to confront two lies our culture pushes, and Satan whispers in order to hijack our identities.

Lie #1: You are defined by you.

The most surface version is defining yourself by what you have or what you've accomplished. A quick gut check: what do you fear losing most? If your answer is money, a title, a possession, or your reputation, that's shaky territory, because almost any of that can disappear.

But there's a deeper version. The mantra of the post-modern soup we live in is, "Live your own truth." If that's your guiding principle, then everything is up for grabs — gender, sexuality, marriage, morality. All of it can be redefined by you.

Here's the problem: it doesn't actually work. If you get to define what truth is, and someone else comes along with a contradicting truth, you both can't be right. Eight-year-olds know that. And even if it did work, it wouldn't be freeing. It would be crushing. You'd have to construct your own identity, justify your own existence. Philosopher Charles Taylor calls this the "burden of self-creation," and a lot of thinkers believe it's part of why anxiety and depression are so widespread today.

You are not defined by you. You've already been assigned an identity. "Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart" (Jeremiah 1:5). God knew you before you were the faintest spark of you.

"So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them" (Genesis 1:27). At the centre of who you are is this: you were made by God, for God, to reflect God. You are not an accident. You are designed for a relationship with Him. You have purpose.

Lie #2: You are defined by others.

We used to say, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me." Not true. I'd rather get whacked with a stick — at least it heals on its own.

This is the real edge of what Babylon was doing to Daniel and his friends. We are going to tell you who you are. And if you don't know who you are, you'll listen.

Maybe you've let other people be the primary formation force in your life — the kids who called you "fat," the coach who picked you last, the parents who compared you to your siblings, the posts that make you feel ugly, the spouse who makes you feel stupid, the friends who make you feel poor.

There are psychological names for this. The "looking glass self" says we become what we think others see in us. Labelling theory says if you're called something long enough, you internalize it. The Rosenthal effect says we tend to live up or down to the expectations of others. The Enemy exploits all of these patterns to convince you that you are something you are not.

Only One gets to name you. The God who knew you before the womb, who fashioned you to reflect Him, who loves you, died for you, fills you with His Spirit, and is coming back for you. Only He has the right to tell you who you are. And here's who He says you are:

You are fearfully and wonderfully made. You are chosen. You are God's workmanship. You are forgiven. You are a co-heir with Christ. You are a citizen of heaven. You are God's temple. You are free. You are a new creation. You are reconciled to God. You are the light of the world and the salt of the earth. You are more than a conqueror through Him who loves you. You are God's beloved. You are a friend of Jesus. You are sealed with the Holy Spirit. You are hidden with Christ in God. You are complete in Christ. You are a branch of the true vine. You are inscribed on the palms of His hands. You are never forsaken. You are His child.

A King Restored

There's a scene in The Two Towers I keep coming back to. King Théoden is under a spell. He's weak, withered, glassy-eyed — a shell of who he used to be. Gandalf confronts the deception, and suddenly colour comes back to Théoden's face. He sits taller. His eyes are clear. The evil he had succumbed to, he now had the clarity and courage to confront. Identity restored.

Some of us are walking around as shells of ourselves. We've let the Enemy mediate lies straight into our hearts. We're weak-spirited, fearful, unclear about who we are or why we're here.

Jesus restores. He restores strength, truth, courage, hope, and identity.

Here's the gospel: you were made in the image of God, made to reflect His image to the world. Sin shattered that image and fractured our relationship with God, with others, and with ourselves. Jesus, God in the flesh, broke into history and lived the life we could never live. On the cross, He carried every lie you've believed about yourself, every label spoken over you, every sin you've ever committed. He took them all to the grave. Three days later, he rose. But those lies, those labels, those sins stayed buried.

Which means if you belong to Him, your identity is no longer tied to any sin, any label, or any lie. It's tied to Jesus Christ.

Do you know who you are? You are Christ's.