God Formed Me. Everyone Else Just Had Opinions.

I’ve noticed something about God.

He has impeccable timing… & absolutely no concern for my agenda.

I sat down with my coffee this morning hoping He’d tell me where I’m going next. You know… the five year plan. A roadmap. Maybe a divine itinerary with a couple highlighted rest stops & an estimated arrival time.

Instead, He spent the better part of our conversation reminding me who He formed.

Apparently He’s less interested in giving me a roadmap than He is making sure I know who’s holding the map.

I wanted direction.

He wanted identity.

Which, if I’m being honest, felt a little rude.

I’ve realized something over the last few weeks.

One of the greatest gifts we receive after conversion isn’t success.

It isn’t influence.

It isn’t finally having life all figured out.

It’s clarity.

Not the kind of clarity where every question suddenly has an answer. The kind that quiets enough of the noise for you to hear God’s voice again.

Jeremiah 1:5 says,

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations.”

That verse has been sitting with me all morning.

Not because it’s unfamiliar, but because I think I’ve spent most of my life reading it through the lens of purpose.

God has been inviting me to read it through the lens of formation.

Because before God ever told Jeremiah what he would do, He reminded him who he already was.

Formation came before function.

Identity came before assignment.

Contribution came after God had already decided how He was going to shape the vessel.

That stopped me in my tracks.

I’ve spent a lot of my life asking, “God, what am I supposed to do?”

Lately, He’s been answering a completely different question.

“Jazmin… do you remember who I formed?”

I don’t know why, but that question hit me harder than I expected.

Maybe because I’ve spent an embarrassing amount of my life asking God to change parts of my personality when all along He was asking me to surrender them, not erase them.

I think that’s where clarity begins.

Not with knowing every detail about where you’re going.

But finally remembering who God created you to be.

The more I thought about clarity, the more I realized something else.

The enemy hates it.

Actually… he always has.

One of the first conversations Satan has in Scripture tells us almost everything we need to know about his strategy. There’s a biblical principle often called the law of first mention. While it isn’t a hard rule, it’s fascinating because the first time a theme appears in Scripture, it often establishes a pattern that continues throughout the rest of the Bible.

So what do we see in Genesis?

Not intimidation.

Not force.

Not violence.

A question.

Genesis 3:1 says,

“…‘Did God really say…?’”

That may be one of the most dangerous questions ever asked.

Because it wasn’t really about the fruit.

It was about confusion.

The enemy didn’t need Eve to stop loving God.

He simply needed her to question what God had already made clear.

Confusion has always been one of his greatest weapons.

Because if he can confuse your identity, he can delay your purpose.

If he can confuse your calling, he can distract your obedience.

If he can confuse your character, you’ll spend years trying to become someone God never intended you to be.

Looking back, I think that’s exactly what happened to me.

Not overnight.

Slowly.

Through comparison.

Through rejection.

Through trauma.

Through other people’s opinions.

Through trying to be more like people I admired.

I didn’t realize I had slowly begun asking God to make me less… me.

“Lord, if You could just tone me down a little.”

Actually… maybe a lot.

I’m stubborn.

I know. Nobody just fell out of their chair reading that.

I’m sensitive.

I cry when I’m overwhelmed. I cry when I’m grateful. Sometimes I cry because someone else cried. Then there are the truly humbling moments where I’m trying to explain why I’m upset… while crying… which somehow weakens what I still believe is an excellent argument.

I’m spicy.

Some of you just laughed because you’ve experienced it firsthand.

I have opinions.

Strong ones.

I’m independent.

Almost to a fault.

I’m resilient because life has given me plenty of opportunities to practice.

For years I assumed sanctification meant becoming someone with an entirely different personality.

Now I wonder if sanctification is less about changing my personality & more about redeeming it.

Maybe God doesn’t need me to stop being stubborn.

Maybe He needs me to become stubborn about truth.

Stubborn about holiness.

Stubborn about forgiving when my flesh would much rather rehearse the offense one more time.

Maybe He doesn’t need my passion to disappear.

Maybe He just wants it pointed toward His Kingdom instead of my pride.

Maybe He doesn’t need my sensitivity to go away.

Maybe He wants it surrendered.

That completely changed the way I looked at Jeremiah.

Jeremiah lived during one of the darkest seasons in Judah’s history. God called him to deliver difficult messages to people who had no intention of listening. He watched the nation reject warning after warning as they moved toward destruction.

Scripture remembers him as the weeping prophet.

Can you imagine how we’d respond to Jeremiah today?

“You’re too emotional.”

“You take everything too personally.”

“You need thicker skin.”

“Everything doesn’t have to be that deep.”

Meanwhile, God was preserving his tears in Scripture.

We have an entire book called Lamentations because a sensitive man refused to stop caring about the things that broke God’s heart.

His sensitivity wasn’t a flaw.

It was part of his formation.

His tears didn’t disqualify him.

They became part of his ministry.

That challenged me more than I expected.

Because maybe the parts of ourselves we’ve spent years apologizing for are actually the very things God wants to redeem.

Not unchanged.

Not undisciplined.

Redeemed.

Then I found myself smiling at one thought that I don’t think I’ll ever forget.

God formed me.

James & Daphne simply made me.

My parents gave me life.

God gave me design.

Those are not the same thing.

To form something means to intentionally shape it for a specific purpose.

Every creator understands this.

A potter doesn’t accidentally shape clay.

An architect doesn’t accidentally draw blueprints.

An artist doesn’t accidentally choose colors.

Every detail serves a purpose because the form is connected to the function.

God is the Creator.

Creators don’t create randomly.

They create intentionally.

Which means before anyone ever had an opinion about me…

Before teachers.

Before classmates.

Before friends.

Before bosses.

Before social media.

Before life happened.

Before I learned to protect myself.

God had already decided exactly how He wanted to shape me.

He knew I’d ask a million questions.

He knew I’d care deeply.

He knew I’d laugh loudly.

He knew I’d overthink a little… well a lot.

He knew I’d have a sharp tongue that would one day need sanctifying.

He knew I’d have enough stubbornness to wrestle with Him before finally surrendering.

None of it surprised Him.

He formed it.

I’ve also realized how easy it is to admire someone until admiration quietly becomes imitation.

Suddenly I’m trying to sound like them.

Write like them.

Lead like them.

Pray like them.

Live like them.

Meanwhile God, in His infinite patience, is probably thinking,

“Sweet girl… I already made one of them.”

Comparison almost always begins when we forget our formation.

Joshua 1:8-9 says,

“Keep this Book of the Law always on your lips; meditate on it day & night, so that you may be careful to do everything written in it. Then you will be prosperous & successful. Have I not commanded you? Be strong & courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”

Notice what God gives Joshua before success.

Clarity.

Stay in My Word.

Know My voice.

Walk in obedience.

The greatest gift after conversion isn’t a platform.

It isn’t influence.

It isn’t knowing exactly what tomorrow holds.

It’s clarity.

The kind of clarity that allows you to say, “I know who formed me.”

I’m realizing I’m ridiculously responsible for the calling God has placed on my life.

Not yours.

Mine.

That means I don’t have time to spend my life trying to become someone He never created.

I simply need to become a more surrendered version of the woman He already formed.

So today my prayer sounds different.

Less…

“God, tell me what to do.”

More…

“God, remind me who You formed.”

Because if You formed me before You assigned me, then You knew exactly what You were doing.

Help me stop apologizing for what You intentionally designed.

Teach me to surrender my personality instead of trying to erase it.

Protect me from confusion.

Protect me from comparison.

Protect me from believing everyone else’s opinion over Your voice.

I want the testimony David had.

Psalm 139:14 says,

“I praise you because I am fearfully & wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.”

Lord, that’s my prayer.

That one day my soul would know “full well.”

Not because I think highly of myself.

But because I think rightly about the One who formed me.