A theological, philosophical, and empirical reflection on identity, John 10:19-21, and the restoration found in Christ
Introduction: Coffee, the Holy Spirit, and the Ache of Being Defined
I woke up this morning dreading the return to work. I’ve been on a week’s leave, buried in thrilling arguments, empirical research, and divine whispers until my eyeballs ached. Having to pull away from that theological excavation to earn a living feels like a betrayal of calling…c’est la vie.
As I reached for my coffee, the Holy Spirit interrupted my internal grumbling with a simple, impactful phrase: “The Givenness of Personhood.”
My gut reaction was a blend of fear and intrigue.
Fear, because I’ve spent much of my life being categorised, misread, and discarded when I no longer served a purpose.
Intrigue, because I sensed that God was about to unravel something beautiful, painful, and true.
One thing is clear: many have tried to define what it means to be a person.
Some define humans as biological machines (Descartes’ mechanistic dualism).
Others reduce us to linguistic constructs (Wittgenstein’s language-games).
Some claim we are performative acts (Butler), or bundles of social subjugations (Foucault).
Metaphysicists describe us as energetic vibrations, and materialists define us by class, labour, and utility.
Today’s identity politics adds to the confusion, defining personhood by sexual preference, pronoun, or political grievance.
In a world of ever-fracturing labels, Scripture invites us into something far more stable and strange: a givenness that cannot be earned, altered, or performed.
Ontology, Epistemology, and the Question Beneath the Question
Before we can understand why Jesus’ words in John 10:19–21 divided His listeners so sharply, we must understand what was really at stake. Their reactions were not merely emotional or political, they were ontological and epistemological.
Ontology concerns the nature of being, what something is at its most essential level. To ask, “Who is Jesus?” is not simply a matter of opinion; it is an ontological question. Is He truly the Son of God, or a man possessed? The implications are massive: if Jesus is God, then reality itself is redefined around His being.
Epistemology, on the other hand, deals with how we know what we know. What counts as truth? What kind of evidence is sufficient? And who has the authority to declare what is real?
In this passage, the crowd is split not only over Jesus’ identity but over the validity of His words. “These are not the words of one oppressed by a demon. Can a demon open the eyes of the blind?” (v. 21). Here, Jesus’ works (signs) and words (sayings) form the epistemic basis for belief, but they require interpretation.
The division in John 10:19–21 is, therefore, a clash of ontologies (Who is this man?) and epistemologies (How do we know whether He speaks from God or not?). Some in the crowd defaulted to interpretive categories of madness and demonic influence, they had an epistemology shaped by fear, expectation, or religious tradition. Others saw the fruit of Jesus’ ministry, sight restored, lives changed, and discerned a different source of authority.
This is not merely a historical debate.
Every human today still makes ontological and epistemological decisions about Jesus, and, by extension, about themselves.
Is my identity something I invent (constructivist ontology), or something I receive (creational ontology)?
Can I know who I am through feelings and affirmation alone, or must I anchor knowledge in somethingor someone, greater than myself?
Jesus, in His words and deeds, demands we answer both questions.
Let’s open our Bibles.
The Word That Divides (John 10:19–21)
“Therefore there was again a division among the Jews because of these words. Many of them said, ‘He has a demon and is insane; why listen to Him?’ Others said, ‘These are not the words of one oppressed by a demon. Can a demon open the eyes of the blind?’” – John 10:19–21
The word “division” here, schisma in Greek, does not denote polite disagreement. It signifies a tear, a schism, a relational rupture provoked by Jesus’ words. The Logos, speaking with surgical precision, slices through delusion and compels a verdict. His voice does not validate our preconceptions, it exposes them.
When Jesus speaks, He forces a confrontation with reality. You either believe He is who He says He is, or you dismiss Him as deranged. No middle ground. No neutral categories. And this confrontation extends beyond theology, it strikes at the heart of identity itself.
The Greek daimonion (δαιμόνιον) implies spiritual distortion. The accusation was that Jesus’ self-revelation, His identity, was evil. This echoes today’s climate: authentic identity, especially when grounded in divine givenness, is often labelled as oppressive or pathological.
And yet, even the sceptics conceded: “Can a demon open the eyes of the blind?” When personhood is grounded in divine presence, not performative affirmation, healing follows.
The Dysphoria of Constructivism
Constructivist identity theories claim that we are who we say we are. Identity is self-authored, socially negotiated, and ultimately fluid. Yet this freedom becomes its own tyranny, demanding constant validation, affirmation, and surgical performance.
Research in trauma, developmental psychology, and neuroscience offers empirical resistance to this ideology. A 2020 study found that adolescents who had experienced emotional abuse and neglect exhibited significantly higher identity diffusion, meaning they lacked stable, coherent self-concepts.¹ This identity instability was mediated by a lack of reflective functioning, the capacity to understand one’s inner world.
Moreover, trauma is often weaponised in identity debates. The DSM-5 defines trauma narrowly, actual or threatened death, serious injury, or sexual violence.² But public discourse increasingly treats discomfort, rejection, or disagreement as trauma, bypassing clinical criteria to serve ideological narratives.³
This matters.
If trauma is anything that offends, then personhood becomes reactionary.
If identity is shaped solely by wounds and not by worth, we end up affirming our damage, not our design.
Philosophically, Jacques Lacan noted that symbolic structures mediate identity. What was once unified, body, name, essence, has been split. In the absence of divine givenness, identity becomes a ghost that must be constructed from fragments.⁴
Alain Badiou pushed this further. True universals, he argued, cannot be grounded in predicates like “queer,” “resistant,” or “cis” these are ideological adornments, not ontological truths. “A real politics,” he wrote, “knows nothing of identities… only fragments of the real.”⁵ In this light, the modern identity project fails not only empirically, but metaphysically.
Biblically, it collapses entirely.
God’s design is not subject to social fashion or synaptic impulse. As Psalm 139 declares, “I praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” In Christ, the self is not erased, but restored, not defined by trauma, nor determined by biology, but liberated by grace.⁶
Practical Application: Living the Given Life
Reject false labels: Whether they come from your past, your culture, or your inner critic, if they are not spoken by Christ, they are not true.
Receive God’s naming: Revisit Scripture’s declarations (John 1:12, Isaiah 43:1, Ephesians 2:10).
Anchor epistemology in grace: Truth is not found in subjective feeling or social mirrors, but in Christ, the Logos.
Disciple others into true personhood: Be the voice of affirming truth in a world that traffics in confusion.
Guard against constructivist reduction: Not every narrative deserves agreement; love does not mean affirmation of error.
Prayer
Father,
In a world obsessed with defining and dividing, thank You that You have spoken a better word.
You call us by name, not by category.
You have knit us together in the womb and re-knit us in the wounds of Christ.
We repent of false selves we have worn and false names we have answered to.
We reject the lie that identity must be performed, and we rest in the truth that it has been purchased.
Restore to us the wonder of being fearfully and wonderfully made, and lead us to love others not by label, but by light.
In Jesus’ Holy and Magnificent Name,
Amen.
References
1. Steven L. Berman, Marilyn J. Montgomery, and Kaylin Ratner, “Trauma and Identity: A Reciprocal Relationship?” Graduate School of Counseling Faculty Publications 31 (2020): 6, https://digitalcommons.georgefox.edu/gsc/31.
2. American Psychiatric Association, Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, 5th ed. (Washington, DC: American Psychiatric Publishing, 2013).
3. Laura K. Jones and Jenny L. Cureton, “Trauma Redefined in the DSM-5: Rationale and Implications for Counseling Practice,” The Professional Counselor 4, no. 3 (2014), accessed July 18, 2025, https://tpcjournal.nbcc.org/trauma-redefined-in-the-dsm-5-rationale-and-implications-for-counseling-practice/.
4. Jacques Lacan, “The Function and Field of Speech and Language in Psychoanalysis,” in Écrits: A Selection, trans.
5. Alan Sheridan (London: Routledge, 1977), 597.
6. Alain Badiou, Ethics: An Essay on the Understanding of Evil, trans. Peter Hallward (London: Verso, 2001), 8. Psalm 139:14, ESV.
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