Living from the Place of Already

In our previous post, we explored what it means to awaken to the truth we’ve forgotten. Now, we step deeper into where our identity was never lost, only misremembered.

Remembering Who We’ve Always Been

There’s a moment in every believer’s life—not always dramatic, sometimes barely noticeable—when the fog lifts and we begin to remember who we’ve always been. Not what we’ve achieved, not what we’ve accumulated, but who we are in Christ. It’s not something we work toward. It’s something we wake up to.

This awakening is especially poignant because for many, life in this world feels like living under a kind of spiritual amnesia—a disconnection from the truth of who we are. Over time, we’ve called this disconnection “spiritual dementia”: not a lack of belief, but a fog of forgetting. Like natural dementia affects memory, orientation, and the ability to recognize even familiar faces, spiritual dementia affects our capacity to remember our divine origin, our union with Christ, and our wholeness in Him.

The Gift of Awakening

For me, that awakening began more than 30 years ago. And even though I’ve grown, wrestled, and weathered storms since then, the foundation hasn’t changed: I live from a place of already. Already loved. Already seated with Him. Already included. Already whole.

What I’ve noticed over the years is that others often come to this knowing at different times, in different ways. I don’t see that as lack—I see it as timing. Just like spring comes to each tree in its own rhythm, so does revelation bloom in each heart when the Spirit breathes on it.

No Comparison in Christ

But there’s something deeper here too. We live in a world that trains us to compare—to measure ourselves against others, to calculate who’s ahead, who’s behind. But when you’re living from your origin in Christ, there’s nothing to prove. No one is ahead. No one is behind. We’re all being gently reminded by the Spirit of what was always true.

Some people might call that ability to receive truth a spiritual gift. Maybe it is. I don’t know why it is easy for some to easily believe God’s truth when they see or hear it—why it clicks deep inside and settles. But I do know this: it isn’t something we earned. It’s something we’ve been entrusted with. And that makes it not a trophy, but a responsibility.

Ancient Echoes of Identity

In the early church, this was understood not as intellectual attainment, but as participation in divine life. Clement of Alexandria wrote that “the greatest and most perfect thing a man may learn is to know himself in God.” Augustine echoed this in his Confessions, praying, “Let me know myself, let me know You.” These were not abstract musings, but declarations of awakening—reminders that the knowledge of God and the knowledge of self are inseparable in the life of faith.

The apostle Paul spoke this language often: “For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God” (Col. 3:3). That’s not a future hope. That’s a present reality. You are already there. The only thing left is to believe it. To live as if it’s true. And when that realization strikes, the brain lights up—not just metaphorically, but literally.

Science and the Soul’s Awakening

Recent studies in brain science show that when people experience spiritual insight or a deep moment of clarity—especially when tied to meditation or faith—their brain activity noticeably changes. The parts of the brain responsible for awareness, personal identity, and memory light up with increased activity. It’s as though the brain is catching up to what the soul already knows. When we remember who we are in Christ, our whole being seems to come into alignment—mind, body, and spirit. It’s not just poetic language; it’s a very real and natural response to spiritual truth taking root. It’s as if a fog lifts and a fuller self emerges.

What we call “spiritual dementia” isn’t about ignorance or failure. It’s about forgetting. And the remedy is not more effort. It’s more remembrance.

A Call to Remember

And so, I write—not to convince you of something you don’t yet have, but to remind you of something you already are. This is what God’s covenant love looks like: a faithful, ongoing whisper that says, “You belong. You’re mine. You are not what the world told you. You are what I have always seen.”

So if something stirs in you as you read this—if a forgotten truth glimmers for even a moment—let it come. Let the Spirit breathe. Let your mind light up with the joy of remembering.

Because in Christ, you are home. Already.

Questions for Reflection

1. What moments in your life have felt like an awakening to who you are in Christ?
2. Have you ever felt like you were living in a spiritual fog? What helped you begin to remember?
3. How can you extend grace to others who may still be awakening to their true identity?
4. What does it mean to you personally to live from a place of “already”?