I am an individual. And Jesus loves ME! Last night I was reminded of this, and it gave me such joy that I realized how much I'd forgotten it lately. Maybe it's because I've been busy. Or perhaps it's because I'm a twin and part of me will always think of myself as one of a unit. But when my youth pastor said this during Bible study, it struck me that I don't often think of myself in that way. I mean, I know Jesus loves me, and that He died for me. I've said all the lines of a good Christian and truly felt them in my heart. But I think sometimes the individuality of my relationship with God gets lost in translation, unable to find its way on the confusing and often harrowing path from my brain to my heart.
Ever since I was a child, I have always had an innate desire to stand out from the crowd, to be one-of-a-kind in whatever way I could. Now, as I'm sure you could probably guess, this resulted in some very unusual and uncomfortable circumstances. But I took them in stride, knowing that they were just part of who I was, and who I had chosen to be. I was comfortable being different from other girls my age, and (with the exception of the awkward middle school years) I never doubted who I was, or why God put me here. I knew then, and I know now, that I was created to have a heart for others and a mission to show them the best in themselves, the unlocked potential I see every day that's just waiting to come out. And I think that, as much as I want to reflect to others how special they are, I often forget to turn the mirror around on myself. I have many times looked at myself and seen only negative things, and because of that I tend to shy away from introspection. I tell myself that I'm fine, that as long as everything is good and happy and wonderful on the surface, I don't have to focus on what I wish I could change about myself. A large portion of my time is spent sending out the message, "I'm confident in who I am and you should be, too," when really I don't have any answers as to why we all feel insecure sometimes. And even though I love the gift of a heart for people that God has given me, I sometimes use it as a crutch, throwing myself into my mission without ever stepping back to say, "What is good about me, as an individual?" I know you may be thinking, "How is that a problem, wanting to put other people first?" But I can't effectively do that unless I become accustomed to letting my vulnerability show so that I can "practice what I preach." Writing is a way for me to do this, a quiet place where I sort through my jumbled thoughts to say what I really mean, where I have a backspace button to undo any mistakes. But life doesn't come with a backspace button, and if I want to successfully do what God has planned for me, I have to be willing to say, "I don't like what I see, either. But you know what? I think we've both been looking in the wrong mirror."
As I have searched for who I am, I've wanted so badly to see an individual, to know that there is something special about me, about why God wanted to spend any time on "only me." But while I've tried to get other people to see their potential, the work I've done on myself has fallen short. Because deep down, the sin in my life will always make me look at who I am through the world's eyes. Instead of the grace of a Savior, I've been looking at the rough edges of a girl who is incomplete on her own. And instead of viewing myself in the Mirror of Mercy, I've been straining for an image in broken glass. We are all our own people, one in a million, as numerous as the stars in the sky yet more valuable individually than the sum of every precious thing in the world. God calls us each by name, and even though He has countless children, He will go to the ends of the earth for just one. He wants us to accept His love, to know beyond all doubt that we are chosen to be free, to be forgiven, to be His. So yes, I am an individual, and Jesus loves ME. But as amazing as that is, it's only the beginning.
Thursday, June 30, 2016
Sunday, June 12, 2016
Finding the Good
"I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well." Psalm 139:14 has always been a favorite verse of mine. I'm sure I've referenced it on this blog before, and I'm sure many people hear this verse so much that they're almost immune to it--to them it's just another overused "God quote" to bring out when you don't know what else to say. But because of 2 Timothy 3:16 ("All scripture is inspired by God...") I believe that when God lays a verse on my heart, I am called to share it regardless of how many times it's been said before. Today when this sentence popped in my mind, it came with a whole new meaning, one that isn't so rosy and sweet. Normally I turn to this verse for confidence, for a reminder that no matter what I'm doing, I will always have a purpose. That meaning definitely still applies, and I know that I will come to it again when I need it most; however, right now I'm going to share with you something that might make you think a little deeper than, "I know I'm worth it."
I'm going to let you in on a little secret (well, really, to those who know me, it won't be a surprise.) I don't know what it is, but the natural tendency of my heart is to believe that there is love and light and good in all people. I know, maybe you think I'm a little naive for believing this, but because of who I am and who God made me to be, I will always be searching for that good, whether it's there or not. So I'm sure you can imagine that every time I hear of something tragic happening like the shooting in Orlando, it cuts deep. It shakes me of my security in knowing that "I can find the good in this," because at the moment I just can't. I think of lives lost, and all I can see is potential being wasted, a possible source of good for the world being extinguished. I know that the loss of these people has shattered the world for so many more, and I mourn for these strangers because of things they won't experience with the ones who were senselessly taken from them. These were their brothers and sisters, their parents and their children, their neighbors and their friends. I pray for the souls of those who were killed, that they knew their need for a Savior and acted on that need, and my heart sinks at the realization that many of those people may have entered into an eternity of separation from Christ. And then I think of the shooter. Regardless of the motive, it was not brought about by "the good" in him, and it hurts my heart as I ponder the possibility that maybe there wasn't anything but evil in there at all. I can't help but think, "Why would God create that? Where's the 'fearfully and wonderfully made' in all of this?"
It's a sobering thought, to know that death is always imminent and that to some it is inflicted by the unthinkable actions of another man. There is no joy in this, no hope for a fallen world. And this is what the world is on its own, created in perfection yet willingly tossed into despair. The tragedy in Orlando was not the first of its kind, and without the intervention of God it definitely won't be the last. But there is always something wonderful in the world, something not just "good" but infallibly holy. True integrity and virtue in the hearts of others is not automatically there, and try as I might, I will not always see it. But I know that when I do, it's this little spark of joy that reminds me of my destiny of an eternity with my amazing God. And as much as I crave it, if it were everywhere, it would not be nearly as valuable to me. So when I read Psalm 139:14, I do not take it out of context by saying that because of this we must all have good in our hearts. I remember that this was a personal declaration of the psalmist David, and for it to be real in our lives it must be personal to us, too. It is a statement of faith in the Father, "your works are wonderful, I know that full well," and an acknowledgment that because of Him and Him alone, we really are "fearfully and wonderfully made." Just like we choose to sin, we can also choose joy and righteousness, and even though the sin will always be in our hearts, we don't always have to act on it. I still believe with everything I am that if there isn't goodness in everyone then there is at least potential in Christ for such, and that in God's eyes we are all sinners in need of a Savior. Even when our world crumbles, there will always be Someone we can depend on, and He is the source of all comfort and peace to those who trust in Him. Because once we find our Savior, we can stop looking. "The good" is already here.
I'm going to let you in on a little secret (well, really, to those who know me, it won't be a surprise.) I don't know what it is, but the natural tendency of my heart is to believe that there is love and light and good in all people. I know, maybe you think I'm a little naive for believing this, but because of who I am and who God made me to be, I will always be searching for that good, whether it's there or not. So I'm sure you can imagine that every time I hear of something tragic happening like the shooting in Orlando, it cuts deep. It shakes me of my security in knowing that "I can find the good in this," because at the moment I just can't. I think of lives lost, and all I can see is potential being wasted, a possible source of good for the world being extinguished. I know that the loss of these people has shattered the world for so many more, and I mourn for these strangers because of things they won't experience with the ones who were senselessly taken from them. These were their brothers and sisters, their parents and their children, their neighbors and their friends. I pray for the souls of those who were killed, that they knew their need for a Savior and acted on that need, and my heart sinks at the realization that many of those people may have entered into an eternity of separation from Christ. And then I think of the shooter. Regardless of the motive, it was not brought about by "the good" in him, and it hurts my heart as I ponder the possibility that maybe there wasn't anything but evil in there at all. I can't help but think, "Why would God create that? Where's the 'fearfully and wonderfully made' in all of this?"
It's a sobering thought, to know that death is always imminent and that to some it is inflicted by the unthinkable actions of another man. There is no joy in this, no hope for a fallen world. And this is what the world is on its own, created in perfection yet willingly tossed into despair. The tragedy in Orlando was not the first of its kind, and without the intervention of God it definitely won't be the last. But there is always something wonderful in the world, something not just "good" but infallibly holy. True integrity and virtue in the hearts of others is not automatically there, and try as I might, I will not always see it. But I know that when I do, it's this little spark of joy that reminds me of my destiny of an eternity with my amazing God. And as much as I crave it, if it were everywhere, it would not be nearly as valuable to me. So when I read Psalm 139:14, I do not take it out of context by saying that because of this we must all have good in our hearts. I remember that this was a personal declaration of the psalmist David, and for it to be real in our lives it must be personal to us, too. It is a statement of faith in the Father, "your works are wonderful, I know that full well," and an acknowledgment that because of Him and Him alone, we really are "fearfully and wonderfully made." Just like we choose to sin, we can also choose joy and righteousness, and even though the sin will always be in our hearts, we don't always have to act on it. I still believe with everything I am that if there isn't goodness in everyone then there is at least potential in Christ for such, and that in God's eyes we are all sinners in need of a Savior. Even when our world crumbles, there will always be Someone we can depend on, and He is the source of all comfort and peace to those who trust in Him. Because once we find our Savior, we can stop looking. "The good" is already here.
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