It sure feels good to be chosen; to be picked for the team, doesn't it?
The alternative is pretty hard to swallow. It hurts to be left out, ignored, overlooked or made to feel as if you were invisible. Those moments, beginning from the time we first entered school and repeating themselves at various points throughout our lives, are etched into our memory. We barely cover the pain with a band-aid, because the sting is still so fresh.
As we grow older, we wonder why it seems that everyone else has their act together, while we struggle along, yearning to find our true purpose. We go through the motions of life, trying to keep up with everyone else by doing what is required. But still we may seem empty.
Deep down, we know God had something in mind when He knit us together. Or, at least that's what we used to believe, when we were younger. But we grow up, get whatever job we have to in order to make a living, and then spend the rest of our lives paying bills. Maybe that's called survival, rather than actually living, but it's the same as what everyone else is doing, so it must be right. Right?
My husband, daughter and I have struggled through this kind of existence as we relocated to a new state, 600 miles away from all that we've ever known. In the past, our intentions had always been good; to make the world a better place.
But it's difficult to touch the lives of others when you feel invisible to those around you. Abandoned. Insignificant. And on our best days, lonely and wondering where we belonged. And more importantly, why we belonged here?
The opposite of being chosen. That's exactly how we felt.
But day by day, my daughter made new friends. I suspect they were drawn by her laughter, or her gentleness. Maybe both. But, she gradually learned to reach out to others, with a eye open for the lonely. Abandoned. The ones who felt insignificant.
Here's the thing. In order to do this, she had to first suffer through the loneliness herself. She had to be ripped from the safety of the life she had known before, thrust into the unwelcoming and volatile world of high school, and forced to find her self worth from what was on the inside. Because at that moment, she had no peers.
But she had her God, and spent her time alone deepening her relationship with Him.
I firmly believe now, two years later, that she was chosen for this journey. Because she has made a difference in a land that never saw her coming.
Maybe that's how it works when we are chosen. We use our past hurts, our softened hearts, to help others. We learn to reach out to those who have that same look in their eye that we once had. We look for those strewn along the side of the road, desperately trying to flag someone down for help.
Because, that's exactly where we were were when God met us. Alone. Lost. And searching.
As far as He is concerned, we are all chosen. Chosen by the One that matters. Chosen to spend forever in His arms.
1 Peter 2:9 But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.
Can you share a time when you later realized you were chosen for a particular journey? And why?
The alternative is pretty hard to swallow. It hurts to be left out, ignored, overlooked or made to feel as if you were invisible. Those moments, beginning from the time we first entered school and repeating themselves at various points throughout our lives, are etched into our memory. We barely cover the pain with a band-aid, because the sting is still so fresh.
As we grow older, we wonder why it seems that everyone else has their act together, while we struggle along, yearning to find our true purpose. We go through the motions of life, trying to keep up with everyone else by doing what is required. But still we may seem empty.
Deep down, we know God had something in mind when He knit us together. Or, at least that's what we used to believe, when we were younger. But we grow up, get whatever job we have to in order to make a living, and then spend the rest of our lives paying bills. Maybe that's called survival, rather than actually living, but it's the same as what everyone else is doing, so it must be right. Right?
My husband, daughter and I have struggled through this kind of existence as we relocated to a new state, 600 miles away from all that we've ever known. In the past, our intentions had always been good; to make the world a better place.
But it's difficult to touch the lives of others when you feel invisible to those around you. Abandoned. Insignificant. And on our best days, lonely and wondering where we belonged. And more importantly, why we belonged here?
The opposite of being chosen. That's exactly how we felt.
But day by day, my daughter made new friends. I suspect they were drawn by her laughter, or her gentleness. Maybe both. But, she gradually learned to reach out to others, with a eye open for the lonely. Abandoned. The ones who felt insignificant.
Here's the thing. In order to do this, she had to first suffer through the loneliness herself. She had to be ripped from the safety of the life she had known before, thrust into the unwelcoming and volatile world of high school, and forced to find her self worth from what was on the inside. Because at that moment, she had no peers.
But she had her God, and spent her time alone deepening her relationship with Him.
I firmly believe now, two years later, that she was chosen for this journey. Because she has made a difference in a land that never saw her coming.
Maybe that's how it works when we are chosen. We use our past hurts, our softened hearts, to help others. We learn to reach out to those who have that same look in their eye that we once had. We look for those strewn along the side of the road, desperately trying to flag someone down for help.
Because, that's exactly where we were were when God met us. Alone. Lost. And searching.
As far as He is concerned, we are all chosen. Chosen by the One that matters. Chosen to spend forever in His arms.
1 Peter 2:9 But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.
Can you share a time when you later realized you were chosen for a particular journey? And why?
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