I’ve been living like an orphan or so I realized when my pastor spoke on the subject. I’ve been hiding metaphorical scraps of food in my pockets in fear of starvation, in fear that tomorrow will finally be the day when my father forgets me. I’m acting like the orphanage is still the place where I find rest in the form of sleep every night, but it has been so long since I called the orphanage my home and still here I am pretending that it is.
I’ve been overwhelmed lately. I mean genuinely in over-my-head overwhelmed. I believed the lie that I was too much and that therefore I was not worthy of sharing my story or my scars. I’ve been overwhelmed by past scars that I didn’t trust the Lord to heal. I know it’s rough, but I know too that I’m not the only one who sings that sad anthem song as I fall asleep. The song that goes something like “I am not worthy. I am not pretty. I am not brave. God cares but I shouldn’t drag him down with this. I know this looks like a pity party but it’s not. This is the truth. I am not enough. I never will be. So leave me alone in my misery.”
Oh but my dear. That’s the point. We are not enough. We are not worth it. And yet- O what a beautiful yet!- God chose us, his sons and his daughters. Like orphans he paid fees and waited for children who may not choose him everyday or respect him or even trust him. Still he chose us- you and me.
“For you have not received a spirit of slavery leading to fear again, but you have received a spirit of adoption as sons by which we cry out, ‘Abba! Father!'”
May we not forget that we are apart of the family. We have no need to fear our tomorrow’s for God will be there and He will watch out for us.