The trope of the conflicted undercover agent has grown familiar in recent years. What distinguishes this iteration is the special garb worn by our hero, an outfit which confuses instead of merely altering the wearer’s identity. To maintain his anonymity among those he works for, Arctor wears a “scramble suit” which projects “a million and a half fraction representations of men, women, and children in every variant.” On the streets, among dope fiends who masquerade as friends, Arctor resembles his slacker, low-rent self. When he reports to his superiors or is called to spout official dogma at a public function, however, he wears the scramble suit—his constantly shifting features provide the ultimate disguise, transforming him into what one character calls “the ultimate everyman.”

The problem is, this confused everyman increasingly feels like no one in particular. Unable to confide fully in the drug-using friends on whom he spies, and required to maintain his anonymity at work, he straddles separate worlds with feet planted firmly in neither. He is torn, fragmented by his divided sympathies, the absence of a guiding purpose birthing an erratic and dangerous course that leads nowhere at a rapid pace.

I’m reminded of an old song performed by Amy Grant entitled “Too Many Hats” which lists the infinitely various roles a married, working mother has to play in contemporary America. Instead of pushing a facile contentment with trying circumstances, the lyrics capture the weariness and sometimes angst produced by a life pulled in too many directions.

There’s a sort of freedom in moving among various roles, in displaying a different self to every comer. Such fluidity erases the troublesome call to consistency. One job requires me to act aggressively towards my customers while another presupposes my benevolence. Family ties alone alternately call out both the gentle lover and the strong worker, the firm disciplinarian and the servant leader. Why should I concern myself with the multitude of faces I’m wearing—doesn’t life require a bit of the chameleon from all of us?

There’s a difference, I think, between serving different functions in different circumstances while remaining motivated by a single purpose, and altering one’s colors in order to please everyone we encounter as we move from duty to pleasure to habit. Fortunately, recognizing and accepting the consistent love of an omnipotent God provides direction for those of us longing for (among other things) more regularity and reliability in our lives.

Without such a guiding principle, we tend to lose not only our direction, but ourselves.