You have to know your identity. It's the biggest thing in wanting

In an age where the soul is often lost in the noise of the world, the singer Lauren Daigle spoke words that gleam like a lantern in the fog: “You have to know your identity. It’s the biggest thing in wanting to pursue creative dreams.” Though her voice was born in the realm of music, her message is as old as creation itself. It is a truth whispered in the hearts of prophets and poets alike—that no great work can spring from a soul that does not know who it is. To create is to give birth to the unseen, and no one can give birth to truth unless they first dwell in truth themselves.

In the ancient days, the philosophers would say that to know thyself was the beginning of all wisdom. They understood what Daigle reminds us of now: that without identity, the artist becomes like a reed blown by every passing wind, swaying to please the noise of the world rather than the call of eternity. For creative dreams are not born from imitation—they are born from the still, unwavering center of the self. The one who does not know who they are will forever chase echoes, never realizing they were meant to create their own song.

Consider the story of Vincent van Gogh, a man who painted not for fame but for truth. His life was marked by sorrow, loneliness, and misunderstanding, yet through it all, he clung to one conviction—that his identity was that of an artist called to reveal beauty through suffering. When others scorned him, when the world called him mad, he still painted fields of gold and skies of fire, because he knew his purpose. Out of his inner torment came immortal light. His art was not the product of ambition, but of authenticity. He did not paint to be seen—he painted because that was who he was.

There is power in such self-knowledge. When a person knows their identity, they become immovable. Praise cannot inflate them; criticism cannot crush them. Their creative dreams flow not from the desire to impress, but from the desire to express. They are like a river that knows its own course, carving valleys through stone simply by being true to its nature. Such a person does not ask, “Will the world approve?” but rather, “Is this true to the spirit within me?” And that is the question that divides the imitators from the creators, the fleeting from the eternal.

But the path to knowing one’s identity is not easy. It requires silence in a world of noise, honesty in a world of masks. It demands that one look inward with courage, confronting both light and shadow. Many flee from this task, preferring to borrow identities from others—clothing themselves in borrowed success, borrowed beauty, borrowed dreams. Yet what is borrowed can never endure. Only what is authentic can give life to art that lasts. The greatest creators—Da Vinci, Shakespeare, Maya Angelou—each began not with ambition, but with a deep knowing of who they were, and what they were called to bring forth.

Daigle’s words rise from her own journey. Before the world heard her songs, she wrestled with her place, her voice, her faith. In finding her identity, she found her sound—raw, soulful, alive. Her music bears the mark of one who has looked inward and seen both the weakness and the wonder of her own humanity. This is why her art moves hearts across nations. For when you speak or sing or write from your true self, the soul of another recognizes it instantly, as one flame calls to another across the dark.

So let this wisdom take root in all who would dream, create, and give. Know your identity. Before chasing the horizon, build your foundation. Seek not to be everything; seek to be yourself, fully, fearlessly, faithfully. The world does not need another echo—it needs your voice. The heavens do not reward the one who pretends—they reward the one who stands firm in the truth of who they were made to be.

Therefore, when you rise each morning, do not ask first, “What must I do?” but rather, “Who am I?” For in that question lies the key to every purpose. Once you know it, your creative dreams will no longer be distant stars—they will become the path beneath your feet. And when you walk it, with faith and clarity, your work will not just be art—it will be a reflection of your soul, and through it, the world will see light.