I heard You.
I heard how You said You loved me anyway. How you take me as-is, but promised never to leave me that way.
Did you feel that? How my tears burned at the corners of my eyes when I heard You speaking all that love over me?
I heard how You whispered promises into the marrow. How You reminded me that You’ve known me by name for centuries, way before I took my first breath. You knew — in advance — the times I’d follow in your steps. And you knew all the ways I’d stumble head-first off the path.
I’m such a spiritual klutz.
But You loved my anyway. And you still do.
Even before you made the world, You decided to love me. I heard you say that to stumbling, bumbling me.
I didn’t hear the words in my ears, but I felt them, way under my skin, the way a person knows she’s really loved. I can’t describe to You how much that meant to me. But You knew that already. It’s still so good to tell You, You know?
You also told me that mirrors are poor judges. A person can look in the mirror or the inbox or the bank account or the offering plate, and if things look good, life is good. And if things look bleak, well … life seems bleak. I heard you say it loud under the skin: Stop. looking. in. the. mirrors. They are horrible indicators of reality.
Yeah, mirrors reflect a false truth sometimes.
I do want to reflect You.
I’ve lived otherwise, at times. I’ve paid too much attention to mirrors — and to glitter. There’s a lot of glitter in the world. And there’s a thousand ways to count shiny things: followers, Facebook friends, @mentions and invitations. There’s only One Way that ever really mattered.
Lord, help me follow that Way.
There are also a hundred ways to measure if a lowly mortal is insignificant: especially if she’s been overlooked, overmatched, overburdened, overtopped. I want to be so over that.
There’s always someone out there telling us we’ve got to have a bigger voice, a better house, more money, more influence.
You know it already Lord, but let me say it out loud here: The world tells me to be all the things that end in Y: funny, pretty, skinny, witty. I’ll turn it upside-down, and chase after the One whose name begins with Y. You, Yahweh.
You know what, Lord? I have looked in mirrors. I have. I confess that to You. But … that’s the thing about You, Yahweh. That’s the amazing things about this still-amazing grace. You take our chins in Your nail-scarred hands. And You pull our gaze off of ourselves, daily re-adjusting our gaze so we’re fixed on You.
I see You.
And it’s so good to be seen by You.
You are the God Who Sees, my El Roi. And we all want to be seen, I suppose, to know that we matter.
You tell us that we already do matter. That we already are seen, already are significant, already are loved.
You’re the God of Alreadys.
And I want you to know how much that means to me.
Thank you, God.