I stumble across this story and my heart skips a beat and the eyes leak and I wonder when did I gulp down the lie that I have to be big to be noticed, write a book or a hit song, get married, have babies, be the most beautiful, act on some phony stage, find a successful career (all the while saving the world or at least the orphans in it), live until I’m 90…or whatever it is we fill in the blank….before the sum of me totals something of value? That I don’t count until I’ve been counted by the best there is out there? That the difference I long to make in the world has to do with something I do instead of something I am?
And somewhere in the middle of all this jumbled up mess I’ve forgotten that Someone happens to know just how many hairs there are on my head. That I am this wonderfully created, mysterious and beautiful masterpiece knit together piece by piece before anyone ever laid eyes on me and this Person, this God, knew in advance all my failures and stumbles and “picking back up agains” and chose to love me anyways. And it is He who says I am amazing not because of MY story but because of HIS story that He is writing on the pages of my life. A story that will live on beyond to tell of the awesome fame of our Great God. AND I DON’T WANT TO MISS IT trying to write it on my own.
No, what I really want is to be like baby Zion who enters and leaves this world not trying to perform his way to love, but nestled snug in the arms of a Saviour satisfied with me because I AM a child of the King.