06 Oct You! Yes, you! You’re precious to Him.
As I mentioned on Facebook, last Friday night the darkness seemed to whisper, “You’re a failure. Just LOOK at you.” Does that ever happen to you?
I love that God makes a compelling retort: “You are My precious poem.”
As Rick Warren aptly points out, “….The Bible says that we ‘are God’s masterpiece.’ He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago” (Ephesians 2:10 NLT).”
But what about the POEM?
Warren continues, “The New Testament was written originally in Greek. The Greek word for ‘masterpiece’ is ‘poema.’ It’s the word we get ‘poem’ from. [So]…
God says, ‘You’re my poem. You’re my masterpiece. I don’t want you copying somebody else. I’ve put gifts in you — heart, abilities, personality, and experiences — and I want you to use them.’ You have worth because of what God says about you and has done for you. [In fact…]
You’re not just wanted; you’re needed! The Bible says in 1 Corinthians 12:4-6, ‘There are different spiritual gifts, but the same Spirit gives them. There are different ways of serving, and yet the same Lord is served. There are different types of work to do, but the same God produces every gift in every person.’
You are needed. You’re needed in your church. You are needed in your community. You are needed in this world. If you weren’t needed, God would not have made you. He didn’t create you to just sit and soak and sour. He brought you here to make a contribution with your life. And everybody is needed.
There are no little people in the family of God. Every part is necessary. Do you know what the most important light is in my house?
It’s not the big chandelier in the dining room. It’s the little dinky light I turn on every night so that when I get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, I don’t stub my toe.
Every role is important. You are important. You have value because God said so and because he paid such a large ransom for your life when he sent his Son, Jesus, to die on the cross for you.”
Reading those words on Saturday morning led me to pray:
Thank You, Papa, that we are Your poems. Sure, we’re written on smudged paper, and more than a little frayed around the edges. But the condition of our scroll doesn’t change the fact that You carefully penned us—and blessedly KEEP editing us—with earnest, tender care.